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!

Ole' Bonnie Blue and Trusty Dusty

Way back in 2001, we met Bonny Blue. She was a little blue Pontiac Grand Am, just big enough for our little family of four. We loved to drive her over to the library to see the big goldfish in the local library's indoor pond, go shopping, and take the girls to see their grandparents, who lived close by. She fit into our family just perfectly!

About a year after our meeting, we moved from Idaho Falls to Boise, Idaho and stayed there for five years. She took my husband to work, was always there to pick up our oldest daughter from school, and took us to many fun family outings. She was even there to pick me up from the hospital after our Zanderman was born.

When she was about 10 years old, my husband got accepted to law school in Texas. At first we were worried about Bonny Blue surviving such a long journey. But, since we had faith in her, we squeezed our three young children in her backseat, and packed as much as we could in the trunk. It took us four days to make it to Houston, but she did it!

She continued serving my family by taking my husband to law school and work, took us to church and to playdates, and the children to school. Still she pressed on, but was getting old.

Miraculously, Bonnie Blue got a sibling named Trusty Dusty in 2008. Trusty Dusty was a gray mini-van, a year older than Bonnie Blue. He joined our family when a kind-hearted man from church gave him to us! Since someone else from church had given his family Trusty Dusty while he was in school, he decided to continue the tradition by giving it to us--another family in school. His family had gotten a new mini-van and no longer needed Trusty Dusty. We were so grateful to have two cars!

Trusty Dusty became mine while Bonnie Blue became my husband's commuter car. Trusty Dusty was my car-pool vehicle and the one I relied on to take the kids to doctor and dentist appointments. He took us to church and on family outings to the zoo and museums. Trusty Dusty trudged on all through law school and then finally died a few months after my husband graduated.

Since then Bonnie Blue has been our go-to girl and has pulled the weight of two vehicles instead of one. While she is old and on her last leg, she is a part of our family who we pray for ever day. We know it is only through prayers and the blessings of tithing that she still runs. While her days are numbered, she will never be forgotten.

We love you Trusty Dusty and Bonnie Blue! Thanks for taking care of my family all these years!

Santa Pat

From the day my family moved into our first Texas home four years ago, we met a man who I will affectionately refer to as Santa Pat. While my family moved to Texas in August-- the hottest, stickiest month in Houston, we got here a few days before the furniture came in the moving van. After sleeping on air mattresses and living out of suitcases for a week, we were more than happy for the furniture to arrive.

I will never forget that miserably sticky day when men and boys from church came to help my husband unload the moving truck. It was Santa Pat who I will never forget. He introduced himself and and his older sons, telling me that he lived nearby and gave me his phone number in case we ever needed anything. I stood in amazement at the kindness of this big, intimidating man, who I barely knew.

As time passed, I got to know Santa Pat and his family better. His daughter often babysat for us and his youngest son went to school with my oldest daughter. My children grew to love his family as we watched his kids go off to college, get married, and start families of their own. He and his wife were the directors of our neighborhood pool and gave my kids swimming lessons every spring.

At Christmas time, Santa Pat, bleached his beard white and could have been Saint Nick's identical twin. One time in church as we sat in a Mormon Sacrament meeting, my son who was about two or three at the time, saw Santa Pat sitting up in the choir seats. My little Zan-man got really excited as he jumped to his feet and stood on the bench in the pew. Pointing to the choir seats, he loudly exclaimed, "Mommy! It's Santa!" Santa Pat was as jolly as I imagine the real Kris Kringle would be. He had a special way with children and often dressed as Santa for Christmas parties.

It was during the fall of 2010 and winter of 2011 that I really got to know Santa Pat when I served as the Ward Choir Director. Thought I have a musical background in piano, I had little choir experience. Though I had been in a college choir for a semester and had sung in other ward choirs, I had never been the director and felt very inadequate. Santa Pat and his wife and son, all were loyal choir members with beautiful voices. I always appreciated their advice and rides to and from church since my family only had one car.

In July of this year, I saw Santa Pat one Sunday before he left on vacation to visit family. Little did I, or anyone else know it would be the last time we would ever see him again. I received word one night that his family had been in a car accident in Eastern Idaho and that it had taken our dear Santa Pat.

As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I know that Santa Pat is doing the Lord's work on the "other side." While we all miss him, I know that we will see him again. Though his mission on earth was complete, I know he is in a happier, more peaceful place where the spirit of Christmas is everlasting.

Finding Joy in the Journey

As I stood on a ladder, painting my son's room this week, I let my mind wander. I looked down at the colorful splatters on my paint clothes and remembered all I have learned as I've painted and repainted my home.


Since I live in an older home that we at first considered our "law school" house, I looked around me realizing how much this house of walls, floors, and ceiling has become a home to my family over the past four years.

Initially I thought my life would begin once my husband finished law school. It was while I waited for his education to end and his career to begin that I found myself immersed in the journey life took me on. Now, I laugh at John Lennon's statement, "Life is what happens while you're making other plans."

It has been during this time that I  have grown the most. I have learned to turn an ordinary house into a home through painting and stenciling. I also passed the time by writing a novel (which has yet to be published). I taught piano lessons and babysat. I survived a hurricane. I learned how to teach my children and to encourage their talents in music, art, gardening, and animals. I recently learned to make jam (it's easier than I thought!). My kids and I spent the summer learning to make quilts, both tied and patchwork. I learned how to use a sewing machine (yes, it's a miracle since I have always hated sewing!).  Last but not least, I learned how to serve others by watching those who have served me.

Now as I enjoy the fruits of my labors, I realize that wherever life takes me, it is the journey that changes a person, not the destination.

An Unforgettable Example

About a month ago, my 91-year-old grandma passed on. She outlived my grandpa by 14 years, but suffered many health problems along the way. She was the last of her siblings to go and had not seen her parents in about 50 years. Since I live so far away, it broke my heart that I could not attend the funeral in another state. Still the things she taught me as well as the memories I have of her will live on forever.

As a little girl, I lived only a few blocks from her. Some of my most cherished childhood memories were of the many Sunday dinners at her house. Grandma was a fantastic cook and my siblings and I always loved going over to her house. Since my grandpa was a fisherman, dinner often consisted of fried trout (or sometimes Southern friend chicken), homemade rolls, jello salad, garden vegetables, and strawberry freezer jam. Dessert always followed with a homemade berry pie. Yum! It's ironic that I hate cooking and I do not have the talent that she did.

On nights when my parents were out and my grandparents babysat me, I remember how grandma made everything fun. She often put on a fun movie then turned on her popcorn popper and let my siblings and I watch as the kernels popped into our favorite treat. Other times when my cousins came to visit, she taught us how to make cakes and treats.

One time I remember spending the night with my grandparents when I was about three years old. It was just me and since I was scared, Grandma let me sleep between her and Grandpa in their bed. Of course I could not sleep without my dolls, of which there were three or four. We squeezed the dolls between us and another one on top of the pillows, then we all went to sleep. In the morning, Grandma and I woke up and did not see Grandpa. We looked everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. Finally we found him down in the basement asleep on the sofa. He said the dolls had made him fall out of the bed! Grandma laughed about that story for years.

Many times as a young child, I accompanied Grandma to a neighbor's home or to visit a sick friend. She always took a jar of jam, homemade rolls, or a pie to cheer them up and it always worked. She and my grandpa volunteered at the thrift store, Deseret Industries, and often visited the elderly in the local nursing home. They served three LDS missions in West Virginia, Georgia, and Ontario, Canada. My grandparents also served as temple workers in the Logan, Utah Temple. I learned how to serve others by watching her.

Family history was also one of Grandma's hobbies. I loved looking through her Books of Remembrance as she showed photos of my ancestors and told me stories about them. It is because of her that I feel that I know them and love them. Her many stories will continue to live on as I tell them to my children.

Though I miss my grandma's cheerfulness, laughter, and love for her fellow man through service, I know that she is really not that far away since I will always carry a part of her with me. I only hope that when I am gone someday, my descendants will think as highly of me as they do of her.

BuBu the Brave

If you've ever met my youngest daughter, you'll know she is very shy and quiet at first. However, I have been amazed at the bravery she finds in helping those in need and sharing our faith.

BuBu (Boo Boo), a nickname my husband gave her at birth that we all later adopted, has a great love for creatures great and small. A few years ago when she was really little, she went outside after it rained only to rescue a worm from the driveway. She did not want it to get run over by the car! As I am a wuss when it comes to creepy, crawly things, she is the complete opposite. She ran inside to get a tupperware container, filled it with leaves and a stick and then gently placed the worm inside. Ironically, the worm died anyway when she left the container in the sun too long.

During her third grade year, she had a teacher who often took the kids outside to explore nature for their science portion of the day. One day I thought it was funny when BuBu came home excited that she had gotten to hold a frog! Because of that teacher, she learned more about amphibians and reptiles. I had to try not to laugh when she recently said, "Mom, reptiles are my favorite animals!"

As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, she is developing a great love for our faith.  BuBu grew to love that third grade teacher so much that at Christmastime, she wanted to give him something special. She found an extra copy of The Book of Mormon, a companion scripture to the Bible, that our family holds dear. She wrote an inscription on the inside, wrapped it up and gave it to her teacher. She continued to share CTR (Choose the Right) rings from church with her friends and invites her friends to church youth activities. She even got up to share her feelings about the gospel with the whole congregation during a Mormon testimony meeting.

She has inspired me and those in my family to share the light and knowledge that we have with our friends and neighbors and to respect the life of all creatures. BuBu reminds me of our Mormon prophet Joseph Smith, who would not let men kill a snake because it was one of God's creatures nor would he ever deny his faith or his testimony of The Book of Mormon.

Now when I see any bothersome creature, I think twice about taking its life and am learning to adopt her desire to share our faith with others. Though she is still young and very quiet, her actions have spoken volumes that motivate me to be a better person.

Meister the Maestro

 As a kid, I grew up in a musical family. Out of five children, we had two pianists, a singer, a guitarist, and a violinist. My parents also loved to sing together and my mom was a dancer. I cherish the memories of the many Sundays where we all gathered around the piano and had a sing-a-long or danced around the house together. The music always brought great joy to my soul.

Now as a mother with my own family, I had the same desire for my children: to feel the joy that music brings and to develop a great love for music. I know that it was divine intervention that brought my daughter's violin to her.

From the time she was very small, my daughter, who we affectionately call Meister (MY Ster), always wanted to be like her Uncle Cameron. Cameron, my youngest brother, is only eight years older than Meister. When he was five, he started playing the violin and now is quite a virtuoso. Meister grew up hearing him practice and when she was little, she got a toy violin that she played until it broke.

As she started school, I had an inkling that she would be a violinist. I always yearned to get her a violin, but since my husband was in school, we never could afford it. So, I waited.

Then, about a year and a half ago, just before her eleventh birthday, we acquired a free violin. A lady from church happened to be a violin teacher and had an extra violin, just the right size. We started lessons and Meister had great success. It brought such joy to my heart when one day she said, "Mom, playing the violin just makes me so happy!"

As my Meister started middle school in the fall of 2010, we gave her teacher back the small violin and rented a bigger size which she used in her school orchestra. Because she had practiced so hard all summer, the director moved her from the beginning orchestra to the intermediate orchestra where she was fourth chair. Since many of the best musicians are Asian, there were many oriental kids in her orchestra. She was one of two non-Asian kids in the whole orchestra!

When school ended for the year, the music store wanted the violin rental back and we could not afford to buy her a violin since they are usually thousands of dollars. I prayed that Meister would have a violin and that the Lord would help her find a way to continue her talent. Meister and I looked online and on Craig's List to look for an affordable instrument. One day she came across one on Amazon straight from a violin shop that was only $100. It was a discontinued model and was made with great care and quality. While our funding was limited, some relatives happened to send the exact amount of money for my birthday which we used to buy the violin. The music she has played since is a gift that we both can enjoy for the rest of our lives.

Super Zanman's Adventures in Gardening

Have you ever heard of a six-year-old who likes plants more than toys? I have.

When we first moved to Texas, my son, who we affectionately call Zanman, was two. He was often my little helper as we planted flowers each season. We had come from an apartment and were excited to plant flowers and palm plants in our flower beds. Besides digging for worms, Zanman loved to dig the hole in the flower bed for the flowers to go in. As he got older his gardening interest increased. His favorite library book was an A to Z book of flowers. He memorized all their names and he and his older sister, BooBoo, would have races to see who could name the flowers the fastest.

My husband was surprised when he took Zanman to the store one time and he begged and pleaded for Brandon to buy him a plant. When Brandon offered to buy him a toy instead, Zanman insisted on the plant. It was a small pine tree that we kept indoors all winter. Later in the spring, we planted it outside. When it died in the summer due to the lack of rain, Zanman was so sad that we hadn't taken better care of it.

Now that he is six, my Zanman has quite a collection of plants both inside and outside of the house. He knows how to repot plants and waters them religiously every day with his sister's old pink watering can. For his sixth birthday, all he wanted was plants and gardening tools. He was so excited when he got a little greenhouse for growing vegetables, a grow-your-own strawberries kit, and gardening gloves. The kid definitely has a green thumb!

His room itself is a greenhouse, sheltering many plants that friends give us or that he takes from outdoors. Our front porch is full of four or five potted plants that he has collected. His favorite Texas plant that has been thriving are his Impatiens, a tall, bushy plant with purple or white pansy-like flowers. He is learning through trial and error which plants grow best in our tropical climate.

One Monday night during our weekly Family Home Evening lesson, we were reading scriptures and talking about the Parable of the Sower from the Bible. The story is about seeds planted in different places and how it affected their growth or their decline and represented people's spiritual growth or spiritual death. When Zanman realized it was a story about plants, his little ears perked up and he listened very intently. Then I got a mustard seed to demonstrate Christ's teaching that all we need is a small amount of faith to do great things. Zanman got so excited and I was pleased that he understood the message. Following the lesson, he planted, and watered the mustard seed, taking care of it and watching it grow.

While I do not know if his green thumb will develop into a future profession, I am learning many life lessons through my son and his gardening. First and foremost, I am learning that as we nurture our children and their talents, they bloom into the people they were meant to become.

Unwrapped Gifts

It is completely true that Texans are some of the most friendly and helpful people you will ever meet. When we first came to Texas, my husband was starting law school and we knew no one. People went out of their way to help my family by assisting with car trouble, car pooling kids to school and youth activities, and babysitting. And it didn't stop there. We had friends who gave us bags of clothes that their  kids had outgrown and others who gave us their old minivan just because they knew we needed a second car! December 2010 was no exception.

In early December our washer started making a strange grrring sound and I noticed how the agitator was not moving. When I had someone look at it, he said it was the motor and the washer was shot. I had three growing children--one who happened to be a five-year-old boy--and knew I was in trouble. It was too close to Christmas and we were financially strapped. I thought about washing the laundry by hand as my progenitors had once done, but then I realized all I had to do was ask for help. Quickly I emailed all my local friends explaining my situation and asking if anyone had an extra washer.While I had many responses in my behalf, I found a local lady who had recently moved overseas, but was in town to help her daughter. She happened to have a 16-yr-old washer that she said we could have. The next day, my sister's husband and his brother took their truck out to pick it up for us.


Ironically, I used that old washer for one day when someone from church called and said they wanted to buy us a new washer. When I explained that someone had already given us an old one, they still insisted on helping. Our church friends delivered the washer that very night with the the biggest smiles on their faces. We were so grateful and felt so loved by those sweet people.

The following Sunday, we were suprised when the LDS missionaries were at our door. They handed us a small gift-wrapped box and said, "We were asked to deliver this to you." As they left, we stood wondering who the Secret Santa could be. The anticipation of the contents of the box soon caught up with my children and before I knew it, they had snatched up the box, tearing off the ribbon and lifting off the lid of the small box. Inside we found a poem and Wal-Mart gift card with a substantial sum of money.

Although I cannot remember what the poem said, I do remember having a deep love in my heart for that anonymous do-gooder. Thanks to their contribution, my children had an extra wonderful Christmas. It warmed my heart on Christmas morning when my nine-year-old daughter exclaimed, "Mom this is the BEST Christmas!"  My Christmas present that year was seeing how happy my family was and feeling the pure love of Christ through all those who had helped us.



I have come a long way from the wide-eyed little girl wondering what Santa brought for Christmas. Today I realize that it is always the gifts you cannot wrap that mean the most.

Hurricane!

As I think about my time in Texas, I remember how my first thought of this place was similar to how Dorothy felt in Oz: completely awestruck by the exotic beauty, but a little intimidated by the unknown. One thing completely unknown to me was hurricanes.

We had been in Texas a little over a year when news of Hurricane Ike swept over the Gulf Coast. Being from Idaho potato country, I had never experienced such a thing and wasn't exactly sure what to expect.
Fortunately, I attended an emergency preparedness meeting at church a few weeks before the storm hit. I learned that my ward was broken up into areas with neighborhood captains in charge of checking on the  families nearest them before and after the storm. I was grateful to know that my family, along with every other member of my ward would be accounted for. Since we did not have anywhere to go and there was no forced evacuation, we planned to "hunker down."

I remember going to the grocery store a few days before the storm hit and wading my way through crowds of people with the same idea I had. Everyone wanted 1) water, 2)snack foods (crackers, cookies, etc. 3) BBQ brickettes and/or fireplace wood. I was amazed that the aisles containing those items were completely empty in more than one store! Luckily, I was able to get what I needed and packed a storage container of enough non-refridgerated foods and plenty of water. Although home improvements stores like Home Depot and Lowes had stacks of wood to board up windows, we did not do that. Many people taped 'X's across their windows to hold the glass together in case of shattering, but we did not do that either since we were on a law school budget.
 
The night before the storm hit, we moved the tub of food into our inner hallway and brought in all our potted plants and lawn chairs. We put the car in the garage, the kids to bed, and prayed a little harder for protection from the storm.  In the early hours of Saturday, September 13, 2008, the storm moved through Galvaston and over to the Houston area. As I lay in my bed, I was awakened by extreme winds. I don't remember the rain as much as the wind because I had never heard wind that fast. The sound woke up two of my children, then ages three and six, who raced into my room and slept at the floor near my bed. I began to worry, so I went into my nine-year-old's room and brought her into my room too. Ironically, my husband slept through the whole thing!

We awoke in the morning with no electricity or water. Outside, the streets were strewn with tree branches and debris, but our house remained intact. Along with most of our neighbors, we spent the morning cleaning up our yard. My kids were amazed to see what a huge pile we made with our yard cleanup. Next, we piled into our minivan to survey the damage to our neighborhood. Looking out our windows, we saw many homes with roof damage, fallen trees and branches blocking driveways or doorways. We saw many people working to clean up the mess the storm left behind, bundling small branches and twigs, and raking as we had done earlier. The one blessing through it all was how everyone worked together to help each other.  Everyone was just a little bit kinder to each other.

By dinnertime, we had visitors. My sister's in-laws, the Bassetts, came over to check on us and invited us to stay at their house since they had gotten their power back. Apparently they lived near a police or fire station (I forget) and got it back sooner than most. They were a godsend and took us in for a week. While my husband still had to work and stayed to keep an eye on our house, my kids and I were kept cool and comfortable. While there, we saw on TV  the mess the hurricane made around the Houston area. Streets were flooded and many on the coast lost their homes and businesses. We heard that it had been a category 4 hurricane and was the third costliest hurricane in the United States!

When we went to fill up our car, there were extremely long lines for gas at about every gas station and many places ran out of gasoline very quickly. My husband soon realized that it was better to fill up at night when the lines were shorter. Curfews were also enforced to prevent looting or any criminal mischief. It actually made it harder for us since my husband would come to the Bassetts house after work which was often about nine p.m. He could never stay long because he had to get back to protect the house.

My daughters' school was closed for two weeks and church was canceled for a few weeks because so many people needed help. In retrospect, my kids say Hurricane Ike was one of their best adventures. For me, it is a memory I know I will never forget.

A Match Made in Texas

We had lived in Texas about six months when I heard a handsome, 20-something man, speak in church. He had been asked during a Mormon Sacrament meeting to share his testimony. While I don't remember exactly what he said, I was impressed and a still, small voice in my head shouted, "Melissa! Melissa!"

I knew that my youngest sister, Melissa needed to meet him. She was a beautiful, single, nurse practitioner who I knew was a catch and deserved someone amazing. I hoped this guy was it and felt he could be her match. The only problem was that I did not know his name. It took me a few weeks to find out that his name was Joseph Bassett. His parents were in my ward and he had been away at college, but was home for a visit that week. Since I was relatively new in the ward myself, I barely knew his family, but knew that I liked what I had seen.

For weeks, I wondered exactly how to find out more about this Joseph Bassett and how to get my sister to meet him. Melissa and I traded emails for a few months and I would tell her when he was home for the weekend. I tried to get them together through email, but for some reason, he never got her email address.

Finally, in May of 2008, I had a playgroup at my house. Ironically, the one mother who came knew Joseph's mom, Janet, really well since they served together in the LDS Young Women organization. She gave me his mom's email and phone number. I was so excited, but still a little intimidated since I did not know Janet very well. At the same time Melissa called and said she wanted to come visit in a few weeks.

A few days before Melissa came, I thought about calling Janet and nearly didn't, but again the still, small voice in my head said,  "Do it for Melissa."  Nervously, I picked up the phone and called Janet Bassett. We connected like old friends both conspiring to do some matchmaking. When Melissa arrived in town, I told her she had a date!

In the mean time, Joseph's dad, Del, went to pick Joseph up from school in College Station, Texas and bring him back home to Houston for a date with Melissa. (I think Joseph's car was in the shop or for some reason not working.)  Melissa and Joseph finally met on a blind date the next night when they went to a Houston Astros game. Afterward, Joseph took her home to meet his parents who she connected with right away.  My sister was only in town for a weekend, but it was enough time to light a spark between them. 

For the next month, they connected any way they could: phone, skype, email, and text message to get to know each other. About the 20th of June, I had a family reunion in Las Vegas, where my parents and other sister lived at the time. After my family's airplane tickets were purchased, my husband, Brandon, got a new job working in a pharmacy, and had training that week. With Brandon unable to go, he opted to give his ticket to Joseph. Now Joseph could be reunited with Melissa and meet the rest of my family!

My family loved Joseph and the rest is history. Melissa and Joseph were married about a year later in May 2009.  It just added to my Texas experience to witness their relationship develop from the first spark into an everlasting flame.

The Beginning

Since I've been impressed by my talented friends and family's blogs, I am finally motivated to start my own. I thought about if for a few months--thinking about what to call it and what to write about. At last I decided to call it "A Texas Sized Life" because I live in Texas and  have had Texas-sized experiences while I've been here. For now, I will start at the beginning of my time here. Here goes. . .

It all started in late 2006 when my husband, Brandon, was in his last year of school at Boise State University when I intercepted the mail. I had found a letter addressed to him from the registrar's office sending him something. As many wives do, I curiously opened the letter and noticed the words 'transcript' and 'LSAT.' I knew that the LSAT was the entrance exam to law school and got worried. So here I was with my two young daughters and  infant son, hoping that he was just entertaining an idea and would be completely done with school like we'd planned in the Spring of 2007.

When the door opened and he returned home from school, I confronted him. Waving the envelope in front of his face I had to ask. "You're not thinking of going to law school are you?" He gave me a sheepish grin and nodded. My heart sunk as the inner voice in my head screamed, "Noooooooo! Three more years of school!" I was just beginning to see the "light at the end of the tunnel," but now everything was going dark. If you've ever had a spouse working full-time and going to school full-time with three young children and one car, you will know the darkness and disappointment I felt in that moment. I knew that my life would be drastically changing and I wasn't sure I was going to like it.

In the summer of 2007 after the LSAT exam and the law school acceptance/rejection letters had come, we decided that we would most likely go to Lansing, Michigan. While I was packing up our three-bedroom apartment, my husband was dragging his feet about Michigan and was still waiting to hear from a school in Texas. He liked the school in Texas the most because it was one of the more inexpensive law schools and was in a warm climate. In the meantime, we went to a family reunion in California where my husband expressed his school wishes to his dad. Now I know it was simply divine Providence because Brandon's dad  told Brandon to email the school and tell them how much he wanted to attend their school.

After returning to Boise, Brandon sent an email to the school and received an  acceptance email shortly after. The only problem was that law school orientation was the following week and we were broke. Somehow, everything fell into place once we found a four-bedroom house in Sugar Land, Texas via the Internet and a family member donated money towards our move.

In retrospect, I can see that it was the hand of God who guided us to Texas. It took a leap of faith to get here, but in spite of it all, I'm glad we came.