Thanksgiving Thoughts

I am going to ask you to ponder how you would answer the question, “Who are you?” while I tell you a little bit about who I am.

In 1979 my mom was expecting her forth child who she hoped to call “Celeste.” My dad favored, “Amy.” It wasn’t until mom did some research on the two names that she relented. She found that Amy was a Latin name that meant Beloved. She knew that my dad’s name, David, also meant Beloved. And so I was named Amy, after my dad.

My dad changed jobs a lot when I was young because of the nature of auto-mechanics. He often had to work two jobs or my mom had to take on odd jobs to take care of their six kids. There came a point, though, where my parents were sure their prayers for a good job had been answered and my dad started a business selling large equipment to auto-shops throughout Utah. He had to travel a lot and he slept in his little car, but things went well for a while.

Within the course of a single year, though, my dad was in the hospital four times. He shattered his wrist installing a hoist and had to have pins put into his arm and later taken out. That same year he had emergency gall bladder surgery and an appendectomy. It was during those months that his largest client declared bankruptcy and he knew he would loose his business because of the money this client owed him. Still, my dad refused to declare bankruptcy himself, insisting that if it took his whole life he would pay off his debts.

Somewhere during that year my dad taught me an important lesson. Our car had broken down and we went to a parts store to buy what he needed to fix it. As my dad and I walked out of the store, he examined his receipt closely and declared we had to return. I grudgingly followed him, not finding auto parts to be all that interesting. At the counter he handed the salesman his receipt and said, “This is for my personal car, I need to pay the taxes.”

I never said anything to my dad about that experience, but I have thought about it often since. How many people would have just walked away? How many would have reasoned that they certainly pay enough taxes or that it was a small amount and not a big deal? He certainly wasn’t likely to be called to account for it. Even as a young girl this experience made me profoundly grateful to be named after my dad, a man of amazing integrity.

My parents struggled a lot when I was young, but I was never very aware of it. I think that’s the ultimate example of gratitude. My mom and dad were so engaged in service and love that they didn’t have time to complain.

President Benson explained that, “Today we are aware of great problems in our society. The most obvious are sexual promiscuity, homosexuality, drug abuse, alcoholism, vandalism, pornography, and violence. These grave problems are symptoms of failure in the home—the disregarding of principles and practices established by God in the very beginning.” I confess that I didn’t know much of these problems growing up and the credit for that belongs to my parents and the example they set.

When we think about who we are, we ought to be profoundly grateful for parents who taught us the gospel and, if they did not, they certainly deserve credit for in some way instilling in us the values that brought us here today. Parents, teachers, church leaders, and friends all deserve gratitude when we consider who we are.

My middle name is Jensen. I have always been glad my parents didn’t give me a real middle name because I didn’t want to give up my family name when I married. To me it represents all my ancestors. Naturally, I cannot carry with me the names of all the ancestors who influenced who I am, but I want to tell you about one of them. Baint Johnson was a farmer in Sweden when the missionaries came to his home. He accepted the gospel and his family was baptized. It turns out that the Swedes weren’t much more accepting of the church then the people of Illinois at that time, because his neighbors organized a mob and came to his house where he was alone with his seven-year-old son. He pushed his boy under the bed and instructed him to stay there until it was safe. The mob forced their way in and beat Baint so severely that his son would later tell people he was baptized in his father’s blood. As soon as Baint was well enough to travel he and his family took what they could carry and walked to Stockholm. There were other saints there and he thought to settle but word came from the mission presidency that he was to move again to Denmark. He moved his family again and prepared to start a life in Denmark, but was told he was supposed to take his family to America. He packed again.

On an over-crowded, rickety old boat he headed for the east coast, but was soon put way off course by a huge storm. Instead of landing where they expected, the little boat went around Florida and forced all the passengers off in New Orleans. He worked there for a time to earn money to take his family to St. Louis and from there, to Nauvoo. Once again he was told he could not stay and he began the long journey across the plains to Salt Lake City. Brigham Young then sent him to Provo where he again began to farm. This trip took over seven years. It was the beginning of the gospel in that line of my family. When we ask who we are we need to remember those that sacrificed to bring us the true gospel of Christ.

Remember your ancestors, and be grateful for them. If you are a first generation member, be grateful for missionaries and friends who helped you get to where you are. Be grateful for loving mothers that sent their children to answer the call of a living prophet. To the youth and primary children, take advantage of living grandparents. I remembered that story from speaking with my grandpa when I was very young. When I called him to ask him to refresh the details for me, I discovered my own mom didn’t know it.

Sometime before the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ a young boy was orphaned and went to live with his uncle, Thomas Hancock. The boy later grew to become the first signer of the Declaration of independence. While none of John Hancock’s children lived to maturity, his cousins passed the Hancock name down a few generations to prominent members of the church who lived in Nauvoo who carried it across the plains and eventually passed it down to Nathan Hancock who, six years ago, asked me to share it.

While Governor of Massachusetts, John Hancock declared a state holiday which he called, “A day of public Thanksgiving.” I want to share with you a bit of the article Gov. Hancock wrote as his declaration. He asked that on this holiday the people should, “devoutly and sincerely offer to Almighty GOD, the gratitude of our Hearts, for all his goodness towards us; more especially in that He has been pleased to continue to us so a great a measure of Health—to cause the Earth plentifully to yield her increase, so that we are supplied with the Necessaries, and the Comforts of Life—to prosper our Merchandise and Fishery—And above all, not only to continue to us the enjoyment of our civil Rights and Liberties; but the great and most important Blessing, the Gospel of Jesus Christ”

This, like the others I have discussed, is a legacy we all share. Not only was our country founded by men who were blessed with a profound understanding and gratitude for Jesus Christ, it was created by the Hand of God to be the place he would restore his gospel. Elder L. Tom Perry explained, “Among other things, the Constitution guarantees the religious freedom that allowed the Reformation to continue and flourish. The great religious reformers began to throw off the rituals and dogmas that had been attached to Christianity during the dark ages and sought to return to the pure and simple truths of the New Testament. “

Joseph Smith said, “The Constitution of the United States is a glorious standard; it is founded in the wisdom of God. It is a heavenly banner.”

Brigham Young said, “[The Constitution] was dictated by the invisible operations of the Almighty.”

Spencer W. Kimball added, “One of the reasons America is great today is because those men who formulated the Constitution had vision. They looked ahead to today, and all of us here are recipients of their wisdom and foresight.”

How grateful we must all be to be partakers of the blessings lavished upon those Heavenly Father brought to this promised land. I am grateful for freedom and for those that made the United States a part of who I am and those who continue to fight for it today.

My final name is one that I chose to take upon myself, but also one that came to me as the result of the divinity of all Children of God. At the age of 8, I was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ and on that day I covenanted to take upon me the name of my Savior. When we are considering the inconceivable blessing of being chosen to bear the name of Jesus Christ, we ought to be humbled by so great a trust and responsibility. And, in turn, we need to ask ourselves how we can live up to that name, the same way we should always be striving to live worthy of the other sacrifices people have made so we could be all that we were born to be. I think even as adults we sometimes tend to become casual in our behavior, our language and actions may be more to receive a desired reaction from the people around us then a reflection of what we believe. But even when we are less then diligent in reflecting our Savior, we still bear his name. When we stand before him someday, may we be proud of the way we represented him.

President Hinckley further explained this principle when he said, “As His followers, we cannot do a mean or shoddy or ungracious thing without tarnishing His image. Nor can we do a good and gracious and generous act without burnishing more brightly the symbol of Him whose name we have taken upon ourselves. And so our lives must become a meaningful expression, the symbol of our declaration of our testimony of the Living Christ, the Eternal Son of the Living God.”

While we are counting our blessings this year, may we also list those things that make us who we are. Ignoring all that I’ve said today, I could stop after listing Nathan’s wife and already be in great debt to my Heavenly Father. Adding the mother of Ryan and Sean kind of makes me the proverbial poster child for the unprofitable servant. But then I am also a daughter, Member of Christ’s Church and, of course of the Gurnee first ward, an American, a Child of God and the list could continue forever. I became who I am not because of anything special about me, but because of the amazing sacrifices of thousands of people who prepared the way, most long before I was born. And I will be forever grateful for that. And I pray the Lord will help me live up to it.

Why the USA has the best doctors in the world

The USA has won 85 Nobel prizes in medicine. This is, by far, more than any other country. Why do you think that is?

Happy Thanksgiving

Thank a Hero

My Grandpa, Reed Talmadge Johnson, passed away last month. His life was far from limited to the service he gave during World War II. But, today is Veteran's Day and I want to tell a story. I confess that I am embarrassed that I may not remember all the details correctly. Grandpa loved to tell stories and I loved to listen. But, as I got older, I became busier and the old stores were not always refreshed with new tellings. If you still know World War II veteran, write their stories down before they are gone forever.

My grandpa was anxious to enlist in the navy. In fact, he and a friend went in to sign up together when they were underage. They were promised that they would always be able to serve together. Well, grandpa wasn't able to get his parents to sign the release, so his buddy went into the navy without him. That friend was killed at Pearl Harbor.

When he did enlist, Grandpa served on a floating dry dock in the United States Navy. He liked to tell how he was hand picked for the position. He often described the majesty of the broken ships that came aboard to be fixed. Throughout his life his third love, after family and religion, was his country. His children were taught how to raise, lower and properly care for the flag in their front yard. Later, he kept dozens of little plastic American flags at his home and I was often given one to wave and told never to let it near the ground. I took that requirement very seriously.

I don't know how it happened that grandpa ended up on a beach somewhere during the war. I suppose he was on leave, but I can't recall where. He once told me a story of sitting on a beach with a friend who had been drinking. they were both missing their families. Grandpa had left behind a new wife to serve his country. The friend had said something along the lines of, "That's it. I don't want to do it any more. I'm going home." Then he had jumped into the ocean, intending to swim back to the United States. Grandpa had to jump in after him and pull him back to safety.

Sometimes I get so frustrated by how far we've come from the freedom loving people grandpa was fighting for. We're so concerned with our busy lives, immersed in our technology, consumed by our own problems, that many of us don't even realize what's happening. This Veteran's Day, Let's begin the long swim back to the United States. And, thank a soldier, honor a veteran, pray in gratitude for this divinely inspired nation. It is a sacred stewardship.

Stupid things people say to amuse me: Reproductive Freedom

I’m starting a new feature. It’s not going to have a regularly scheduled time. But, since I have been doing a fairly regular “words of people much smarter than me,” it’s time I balance it out with “stupid things people say to amuse me.”

Let’s welcome our first recipient! Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz (D-Fla.), the Democrats’ chief deputy whip in the House of Representatives.

For those of you who didn’t follow the sneaky, underhanded tactics of Nancy Pelosi in getting the monstrosity of a “health care” bill through the House last Saturday, here’s the story. The Dems knew they didn’t have enough votes. That’s because there were moderate Democrats who could stomach enslaving children in debt for eternity, but recognized that there had to BE children to pay the debt. As written, the bill included a premium intended to pay for elective abortions. In order to get the bill passed, the politicians added Stupak’s amendment, which specifically prohibits taxpayer funds from paying for abortions. The measure passed.

Of course the legislative process is a process. There is no reason the bill that passed the House will be the one implemented into law. Liberal Democrats know this, and that’s why they allowed the amendment. In fact, our stupid quote author has promised that the amendment will be stripped from the bill before it passes the Senate.

Now, Ms. Wasserman Schultz’s quote: “It was extremely painful for me to feel compelled to vote for a bill that contained that kind of restriction on a woman's ability to make her own reproductive choices.”

Huh.

Let’s follow this to it’s logical conclusion. Not forcing the taxpayers pay for a woman’s abortion is a “restriction on a woman's ability to make her own reproductive choices.”

In that case, we live in a country where I cannot make my own food choices. You see, the government isn’t paying for my food. There is apparently a restriction on my ability to make my own choices about where I can live, because I have to pay for my own housing. This country is restricting almost every choice I thought I was making. It’s disgusting. This is clearly a fascist nation.

Well, at least no one is restricting my ability to be amused by other people’s stupidity…wait, am I paying for this internet connection? Crap.

What is Real.

There are a lot of things going on today. Perhaps I should focus on the fact that the House is going to vote on a huge mistake tomorrow. Perhaps, like most conservatives today, I should be venting outrage at President Obama’s creepy unconcern about the lives of our military. But I don’t want to.

Instead, today, I want to say one thing and one thing alone: God bless our military. I have been blessed to live near a Navy base and, now, an Army base. Many of my friends, neighbors and colleagues over the past five years have been military and their families. It is impossible to describe the sacrifice these men and women make. I get a little choked up each time that I see a bumper sticker that expresses pride in the service of a son, daughter, sister, brother, husband or wife. I am also proud of the members of my family that have served. I love to watch the videos of troops returning home. I cry each time I read about a hero who made the ultimate sacrifice.

This blog tends to get a little political. As such, I often get caught up in the big mess that is one person’s opinion pitted against another’s. Today I want to make it clear that I know that all those arguments are secondary to something much more important.

I know what matters.

The battle going on in the United States, and elsewhere, is about the love of a mother for her children. It’s about the feeling I still get, after 10 years, when I see my husband walk through the front door. It’s about Thanksgiving dinners with kids running around and football playing in the background. It’s about family. Every battle we face as members of this country, every battle our troops fight in other countries, they are all about ensuring our way of life. They are about the freedom to be happy. They are about the sacrifices our ancestors already made.

Thank God for our soldiers. They, so often, sacrifice for themselves the very thing they are fighting for the rest of us to have.

Legitimate Profiling?

My mom is a special education teacher. When I got the letter I featured in yesterday's post, I decided to call her and see if her school does the same thing. I figured it must, since this is supposed to be federal standards. My mom surprised me. She seemed bothered by the fact that I was upset about the letter. She said it wasn't a big deal and that it's something that the schools have been doing since she was a child. I suppose that makes it okay? In an attempt to explain why the letter was necessary she said, "They want to know if one particular racial group is struggling in a certain area." Well then...

I decided I probably didn't effectively explain why I was bothered by an enormous government bureaucracy gathering racial and ethnic information on kids. Apparently there is a school of thought that seems to think they should find out which races are doing better at math. After all, if Hispanics are struggling with mathematics, it must be related to their ethnic background, as opposed to other factors. Ask what color they are, not what curriculum they are studying. Ask what color they are, not what their family situation is like. Ask what color they are, not who their teacher is.

In fact, if one ethic or racial group is better at one subject than another, we should embrace these differences. We can use them to make the world more scientific and efficient. Perhaps Indians make better doctors. I would like to know when I am searching for a pediatrician. Maybe African Americans are better drivers. I think that ought to be factored into my insurance rates. It's undoubtedly true that certain races are more susceptible to certain diseases. The high risk groups should be paying more for heath care. Maybe we ought to shuffle people into careers such as engineering, teaching, and farming based on the color of their skin. After all, if people whose ancestors are from Japan are better teachers, we wouldn't have to ask questions about curriculum. We'd just have to get data on the race of the teachers!

OR...Maybe we ought to STOP gathering RACIAL data on children and start focusing on the academic programs that are effective instead.

Just a thought.

Further Proof of Equality

Earlier this year, Newsweek magazine suggested that babies are innately racist. Of course, if we're born that way, then it should be okay, right? The federal government seems to think so. A couple days ago, my son brought this paper home from school and told me I had to sign it. The paper that accompanied the form included a very strong language about how the form was "required" and parents "must" return it. Well, you know how much I enjoy being told what I must do. So, to convince parents like me, the note threatened that, as a last resort, the teachers would simply look at my child and decide for themselves what race he is. Since I got the note, my son has asked me repeatedly to please sign it. I couple of times, I have sat down with the intention of doing so, at the behest of my sweet Ryan. But, each time, the wording ticks me off again and I find myself unable to fill it out.

The people who know me understand that I am extremely difficult to offend. But seriously? The federal government wants to categorize my child by his race in order to prevent racism? It makes no sense. I suppose they're going to have to decide for themselves what color my sons are. It won't be hard. They are both the only "white non-hispanics" in their classes. Until today, I didn't think that mattered at all. I chose a predominately Hispanic school because I wanted them to learn a second language.

I will not set the precedent in teaching my children that grouping by race is ever appropriate or helpful. Until we have a truly colorblind society, we will never be one people I would think that the government would set the example by by recognizing that a student is a student no matter what color.

But do you want to know the real tragedy in this type of mindset? Ryan is a very talented young man. He's brilliant and thoughtful. He's wants to be a "mathematician and a sciencematician." He loves music and drawing. He shows a real aptitude for computer science. No one is bothering to ask "who" he is. They are concerned about who he is descended from. I am proud that my kids never describe their friends by their race and or ethnicity. If they did, they'd miss everything about them that makes them who they are.