Grant County Journal
April 25, 2011r
Good Things Take Work
Written by Janet Warren
It was like a well-executed military maneuver. Okay, maybe more like a scene from Pink Panther with Steve Martin, but we pulled it off.
1. Spencer arrives at the Easter pageant in Mesa directly from work, still dressed in his scrubs, to save Jenni and me seats. Check.
2. Jenni and I get all three children ready to leave from home in Chandler; buckled in car seats. Check.
3. Driving to Mesa, Jenni asks if I have my cell phone, a strategic necessity in our plan. Oh oh.
4. Go back home to get my cell phone. Check.
5. Arrive at Mesa Arizona Temple 30 minutes later, 10 minutes before showtime. Should have been 20 minutes, but every plan has a wrinkle. Check.
6. Double park behind Spencer’s car. Check
7. Jenni stays with children in double-parked van, hoping no one will ask her to move, and nurses baby. Check.
8. I try to find Spencer amidst 8,000 people. Thank goodness for cell phones. Check.
9. Spencer returns to car to relieve Jenni and drives the three children home. Check.
10. Jenni slides into the aisle seat Spencer has procured 10 minutes after show time. It would have been perfect if not for the cell phone wrinkle. Check.
Good grief it’s difficult to have a spiritual experience when you have small children (or teenagers). But it was worth it. For me, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, unless, of course, I happen to be visiting my daughter in Arizona the week before Easter again, then it could be twice-in-a-life, because I would definitely do it again. I had the opportunity to see an Easter pageant put on by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and held on the lawn of the Mesa Temple. In 65 minutes, the life of Christ was portrayed in music, dance, and through the words of the King James Version of the New Testament.
In 1928, a few months after the Mesa Arizona temple was built, this pageant was performed out of the back of a cotton truck as an Easter sunrise service. Except for a few of the war years, it has been performed every year since then. It has grown into the largest annual outdoor Easter pageant in the world. Today it is presented on a 9,600-square-foot stage, which stands four stories high, complete with professional sound and lighting systems. The 450 volunteer cast members prepare for nine formal performances, which 4,000 to 12,000 visitors attend each night. It is presented for all faiths, cultures, and ages.
The pageant is a community event that is free to the public. No donations are accepted and no tickets are required. People travel from all over the United States to see this beautiful remembrance of Jesus Christ. There was seating for 8,000 people on the night my daughter and I attended, and most of them were filled. I was amazed how quiet 8,000 people, including children, can be when they are mesmerized. The play began with Christ’s birth, and because of it’s quick pacing, was able to depict many of the biblical events in Christ’s life such as when he told the parable of the ten virgins and his suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane. The crucifixion was portrayed, but I think one of the main differences between this pageant and a traditional passion play is that it focused more on Christ’s resurrection. At the end of the pageant, all 450 cast members were on stage, angels with trumps were four stories up, and Christ was raised on a pedestal above them, which made it look like he was in the air above the stage. It was all masterfully done and such a beautiful thing to see.
As we were leaving the north lawn of the temple grounds, the visitor center’s curtains were opened to reveal an 11-foot statue of the Christus. The original marble Christus was sculpted by Bertel Thorvaldsen, a Danish sculpter, in 1821. It is housed in the Church of Our Lady in Copenhagen, Denmark. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints commissioned two replicas in the 1960s; the first was placed in storage until the facility to house it was built on the Salt Lake City temple grounds, but the second one was displayed at the 1965 World’s Fair in New York. The LDS church has 134 operating temples around the world (not to be confused with their meeting houses). The closest temples to Ephrata are in Kennewick and Spokane. Today there are more than 15 Christus replicas placed around the world in LDS temple visitor’s centers—Los Angeles, Hawaii, Mexico, Japan, Washington D.C., and Mesa being a few. I have also seen Thorvaldsen’s Christus at the beautiful Victorian Dome of John Hopkins hospital, where Spencer did his medical fellowship. The Dome is part of the original hospital built in 1889, and the statue, entitled Christus Consolator, was unveiled on October 14, 1896. A bronze full-size replica is located at the Oakwood Cemetery in Huntsville, Texas.
Thorvaldsen originally envisioned sculpting the Christus with hands raised, as if to bless, but at the last minute decided to sculpt Christ with his hands outstretched so that all could see the prints in his hands as he reached out to them. It is a gorgeous sculpture and a gentle reminder of how Christ died for us.
Sometimes we get so busy in our lives that it takes an effort to remember to slow down and reflect on our blessings. I hope Easter refreshed you spiritually. Without nourishment to our souls, life can become pretty grim.
Mike’s coming to Arizona on Friday for the twins’ third birthday! I also have another exciting announcement next Monday. Talk to you then.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Christmas in April
Grant County Journal
Christmas in April
April 11, 2011
Written by Janet Warren
My favorite quote collector, Dorothy Bair, recited this poem to me and I loved it. It was written by the most prolific author in history, Anonymous.
When first he called me sweetheart, My youthful knees grew weak,
and that was topped when I heard wife, for sure, I'd reached my peak.
Until a tiny voice said Mommy, a joy I still recall.
But now, the sound of "Grandma" is the sweetest word of all.
The little princess has arrived! Ivy Noël Heaton, 6 pounds 2 ounces, 20 inches long. Noël is my daughter’s middle name; she was born a week before Christmas. The parents realize Ivy will forever be explaining why her middle name is Noël when she was born in April, but she’ll have to explain about the trema over the e anyway. Even though I was the one who named my daughter Jennifer Noël, I just learned when Ivy was born that the two dots over the e is called a trema and it means that the vowel preceding the e is pronounced separately and not blended into the e. Of course, this will make no sense to you if the paper isn’t able to print the trema. You’ll have to imagine the e with two dots over it. Jennifer (later shortened to Jenni), wanted to be sure Ivy wasn’t named anything on the top 10 list of baby names. Jenni, who was born in 1978, grew up with at least 3 or 4 Jennifers in her classes at school.
Jenni is recuperating, but it’s tough with three-year-old twins who don’t understand why they can’t jump on their post-operative C-section mommy. That’s one of the reasons I am here—I’ll do the heavy lifting until the other grandma comes to take over. We’ve had a bit of jealousy over here too. Hey—last time there were two babies so I got to hold a grandchild anytime I wanted. Oh, and the boys have also been a little jealous. Seth saw his daddy holding Ivy and yelled at him to give mommy her baby back. When Spencer tried to explain Ivy was Mommy and Daddy’s baby, Seth cried, “No, Seth is Daddy’s baby.” It almost broke my heart. This parenting stuff is hard work, which is why being a grandparent is so fun. I get to enjoy the moment without having to worry about the long-term consequences. When I leave, Jenni and Spencer can always say, “We only do that when grandma is here.”
I walked Seth and Noah over to the park yesterday so Jenni could get some much-needed rest. Gone is the beautiful, little bit too warm for me, weather. It was replaced with 70 degrees yesterday. Except for being a little windy, it felt really good. Apparently 70 degrees in Arizona is cold. Adults were at the park dressed in hooded sweatshirts. Wimps. Today, however, was in the 50s and I was wishing I had packed some socks.
I saw a roadrunner a couple of days ago. When I called Mike in Ephrata and told him, he said, “what year?” Mike, Mike, Mike. You have cars on the brain, but I am missing the way you make me look at something in a totally different way. No, I saw the bird like the one who was always driving Wile E. Coyote crazy. I have never seen one that wasn’t animated, but it was obvious it was a roadrunner when it ran past me in the park.
I promised to send a picture of Ivy, and here she is! I can’t help myself, I have to go into grandma mode. She is the most beautiful baby girl I have ever seen (besides my own, of course). Thanks, my Ephrata friends, for letting a semi-old grandma brag.
Christmas in April
April 11, 2011
Written by Janet Warren
My favorite quote collector, Dorothy Bair, recited this poem to me and I loved it. It was written by the most prolific author in history, Anonymous.
When first he called me sweetheart, My youthful knees grew weak,
and that was topped when I heard wife, for sure, I'd reached my peak.
Until a tiny voice said Mommy, a joy I still recall.
But now, the sound of "Grandma" is the sweetest word of all.
The little princess has arrived! Ivy Noël Heaton, 6 pounds 2 ounces, 20 inches long. Noël is my daughter’s middle name; she was born a week before Christmas. The parents realize Ivy will forever be explaining why her middle name is Noël when she was born in April, but she’ll have to explain about the trema over the e anyway. Even though I was the one who named my daughter Jennifer Noël, I just learned when Ivy was born that the two dots over the e is called a trema and it means that the vowel preceding the e is pronounced separately and not blended into the e. Of course, this will make no sense to you if the paper isn’t able to print the trema. You’ll have to imagine the e with two dots over it. Jennifer (later shortened to Jenni), wanted to be sure Ivy wasn’t named anything on the top 10 list of baby names. Jenni, who was born in 1978, grew up with at least 3 or 4 Jennifers in her classes at school.
Jenni is recuperating, but it’s tough with three-year-old twins who don’t understand why they can’t jump on their post-operative C-section mommy. That’s one of the reasons I am here—I’ll do the heavy lifting until the other grandma comes to take over. We’ve had a bit of jealousy over here too. Hey—last time there were two babies so I got to hold a grandchild anytime I wanted. Oh, and the boys have also been a little jealous. Seth saw his daddy holding Ivy and yelled at him to give mommy her baby back. When Spencer tried to explain Ivy was Mommy and Daddy’s baby, Seth cried, “No, Seth is Daddy’s baby.” It almost broke my heart. This parenting stuff is hard work, which is why being a grandparent is so fun. I get to enjoy the moment without having to worry about the long-term consequences. When I leave, Jenni and Spencer can always say, “We only do that when grandma is here.”
I walked Seth and Noah over to the park yesterday so Jenni could get some much-needed rest. Gone is the beautiful, little bit too warm for me, weather. It was replaced with 70 degrees yesterday. Except for being a little windy, it felt really good. Apparently 70 degrees in Arizona is cold. Adults were at the park dressed in hooded sweatshirts. Wimps. Today, however, was in the 50s and I was wishing I had packed some socks.
I saw a roadrunner a couple of days ago. When I called Mike in Ephrata and told him, he said, “what year?” Mike, Mike, Mike. You have cars on the brain, but I am missing the way you make me look at something in a totally different way. No, I saw the bird like the one who was always driving Wile E. Coyote crazy. I have never seen one that wasn’t animated, but it was obvious it was a roadrunner when it ran past me in the park.
I promised to send a picture of Ivy, and here she is! I can’t help myself, I have to go into grandma mode. She is the most beautiful baby girl I have ever seen (besides my own, of course). Thanks, my Ephrata friends, for letting a semi-old grandma brag.
Making Limeade out of Lemons
Grant County Journal
April 4, 2011
Making Limeade out of Lemons
Written by Janet Warren
My daughter and son-in-law, Jenni and Spencer, moved to Arizona in September, after Spencer finished nine years of medical training back east. None of our family has ever lived where you can grow citrus trees, and when I visited Arizona in November, I was intrigued with the lime tree Jenni had growing in her back yard. We had fresh limes right off the tree for Thanksgiving. They looked like limes, they tasted like limes, and they smelled like limes. I had no reason to think they weren’t limes until a month later when Jenni informed me they had turned bright yellow. If Jenni had mentioned her lime tree to someone who had lived in Arizona for a few years, they most likely would have told her about the growing season and that her limes were actually lemons. Sometimes we assume things and don’t bother to check with someone who really knows.
When my son was 11 years old, Mike and I took him to meet Aunt Charlene in Hemet, California and to visit the attractions in San Diego and Los Angeles. He was at the age where he was beginning to be interested in the world around him, yet not quite old enough to understand them. Of course, I’m not sure I’m old enough to understand some of the things that are going on around us, either, but that is beside the point.
We drove down the Oregon Coast and then entered California through Crescent City. Just north of Crescent City, Jeffrey looked around him and said, “California doesn’t look like it’s bankrupt.” Sometimes as adults we view the world like an 11-year-old. I admit when my daughter and her family moved here last September, I was worried about the murders that were taking place with the Mexican drug cartel. A man was even beheaded in Chandler, where Spencer and Jenni live, although I later found out it was way out in the desert. When I visited them in November, which is the first time I have ever been in Arizona, the part of my brain that behaves like an 11-year-old was probably saying, “It doesn’t look overrun with illegal immigrants and murdering cartel henchmen.” My point is, we can get riled up with the news reports of everything that is going wrong, even to the point of jumping on the Boycott Arizona Bandwagon. Some of us don’t even bother to ask someone who lives here; we form our opinions from the media. I happen to think Governor Brewer is very brave for sticking up for Arizona. There are a lot of reasons I wouldn’t boycott Arizona, but the most important one is because some of the most important people in my life live here.
On a lighter note, those of us who live in the cooler Northwest are sure to say we could never live in Arizona because of the heat. We forget that six to eight months of the year is beautiful and that you can grow grapefruit trees in your backyard.
Arizona’s spring has sprung. We went for a walk to the park the other evening, and I could smell the night-blooming jasmine. The temperature was like a warm summer night, but it was very pleasant. On April 1, however, Chandler broke a record temperature for that date by 5 degrees. It got up to 98 degrees. Jenni cranked up the air conditioner and we stayed indoors most of the day. Fortunately, the rest of the week dropped down to more normal April temperatures in the 80s. It usually doesn’t begin to get into the 90s until the middle of May. The latest forecast has Friday with 76 degrees.
The reason I am here for a month is that Jenni’s C-section is scheduled for 9 a.m. tomorrow morning. My almost-three-year-old twin grandsons, Seth and Noah, don’t have a clue what is about to happen to them when Jenni has the new baby. Noah has warmed up to me, but Seth is still very suspect of me. Friday morning Jenni was resting in bed and Seth was on the other side of the bed watching a movie on an iPhone. I went in and kneeled down beside Seth and asked him what he wanted grandma to make him for breakfast. He scooted quickly over to his mother’s side saying, “Mommy, help me.” Oh my, he’s in for such a surprise tomorrow when either grandma makes him breakfast or he will be one hungry little boy. That’s the problem with living so far away. I was talking to Julie on the playground at Grant before I came here and expressed how I wished I lived closer so I could see my grandchildren more often. “My grandkids live in Seattle,” she said, “and I don’t see them that much either.” She has a point there. Unless I lived in the same city, I probably couldn’t have the close relationship I wish I had. Of course, living that close to your children might present a whole list of other problems. And, as beautiful as Arizona is the rest of the year, I really couldn’t take that summer heat. Snowbirds, maybe? That would be the best of both worlds. Mike, can we talk?
April 4, 2011
Making Limeade out of Lemons
Written by Janet Warren
My daughter and son-in-law, Jenni and Spencer, moved to Arizona in September, after Spencer finished nine years of medical training back east. None of our family has ever lived where you can grow citrus trees, and when I visited Arizona in November, I was intrigued with the lime tree Jenni had growing in her back yard. We had fresh limes right off the tree for Thanksgiving. They looked like limes, they tasted like limes, and they smelled like limes. I had no reason to think they weren’t limes until a month later when Jenni informed me they had turned bright yellow. If Jenni had mentioned her lime tree to someone who had lived in Arizona for a few years, they most likely would have told her about the growing season and that her limes were actually lemons. Sometimes we assume things and don’t bother to check with someone who really knows.
When my son was 11 years old, Mike and I took him to meet Aunt Charlene in Hemet, California and to visit the attractions in San Diego and Los Angeles. He was at the age where he was beginning to be interested in the world around him, yet not quite old enough to understand them. Of course, I’m not sure I’m old enough to understand some of the things that are going on around us, either, but that is beside the point.
We drove down the Oregon Coast and then entered California through Crescent City. Just north of Crescent City, Jeffrey looked around him and said, “California doesn’t look like it’s bankrupt.” Sometimes as adults we view the world like an 11-year-old. I admit when my daughter and her family moved here last September, I was worried about the murders that were taking place with the Mexican drug cartel. A man was even beheaded in Chandler, where Spencer and Jenni live, although I later found out it was way out in the desert. When I visited them in November, which is the first time I have ever been in Arizona, the part of my brain that behaves like an 11-year-old was probably saying, “It doesn’t look overrun with illegal immigrants and murdering cartel henchmen.” My point is, we can get riled up with the news reports of everything that is going wrong, even to the point of jumping on the Boycott Arizona Bandwagon. Some of us don’t even bother to ask someone who lives here; we form our opinions from the media. I happen to think Governor Brewer is very brave for sticking up for Arizona. There are a lot of reasons I wouldn’t boycott Arizona, but the most important one is because some of the most important people in my life live here.
On a lighter note, those of us who live in the cooler Northwest are sure to say we could never live in Arizona because of the heat. We forget that six to eight months of the year is beautiful and that you can grow grapefruit trees in your backyard.
Arizona’s spring has sprung. We went for a walk to the park the other evening, and I could smell the night-blooming jasmine. The temperature was like a warm summer night, but it was very pleasant. On April 1, however, Chandler broke a record temperature for that date by 5 degrees. It got up to 98 degrees. Jenni cranked up the air conditioner and we stayed indoors most of the day. Fortunately, the rest of the week dropped down to more normal April temperatures in the 80s. It usually doesn’t begin to get into the 90s until the middle of May. The latest forecast has Friday with 76 degrees.
The reason I am here for a month is that Jenni’s C-section is scheduled for 9 a.m. tomorrow morning. My almost-three-year-old twin grandsons, Seth and Noah, don’t have a clue what is about to happen to them when Jenni has the new baby. Noah has warmed up to me, but Seth is still very suspect of me. Friday morning Jenni was resting in bed and Seth was on the other side of the bed watching a movie on an iPhone. I went in and kneeled down beside Seth and asked him what he wanted grandma to make him for breakfast. He scooted quickly over to his mother’s side saying, “Mommy, help me.” Oh my, he’s in for such a surprise tomorrow when either grandma makes him breakfast or he will be one hungry little boy. That’s the problem with living so far away. I was talking to Julie on the playground at Grant before I came here and expressed how I wished I lived closer so I could see my grandchildren more often. “My grandkids live in Seattle,” she said, “and I don’t see them that much either.” She has a point there. Unless I lived in the same city, I probably couldn’t have the close relationship I wish I had. Of course, living that close to your children might present a whole list of other problems. And, as beautiful as Arizona is the rest of the year, I really couldn’t take that summer heat. Snowbirds, maybe? That would be the best of both worlds. Mike, can we talk?
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