Beautiful Thailand by Brandee Davis

"We have to hurry,” he said. "The shuttle van will leave without us.” It was Sunday morning in Bangkok, Thailand. We had been in this big city for two days so far, with the boy we hadn't seen for two years. It was amazing. We couldn't believe our eyes, or our ears, as we sat back and listened to this child of ours speaking this different but beautiful language to complete strangers. This boy, who has never been one to step out of his comfort zone, was now looking for people to talk to. About anything. And everything.

We got to the shuttle place, which was under a large freeway, and a bit sketchy. We climbed into this fifteen-passenger van and waited for everyone to load up. It was going to be a two-hour drive. Not too bad. The A/C kind of worked. It could've been way worse, so we were good, but we were so happy to get out of that van when we hit Lopburi. As we got out of the van, Elder Davis told us we only had ten minutes and that we had to hurry. We did hurry, and we made it on time.

As we entered their store-front-looking church building, it was nice. You could tell they took great pride in their new church. Immediately they all hurried to say hello to an old friend. Elder Davis was so happy to see these beautiful people whom he served and loved. As they began their meeting, we began to look around. What a beautiful spirit these humble Thai people had! As they began to sing, you could feel their love for God. We couldn't understand what they said, but we felt it with our hearts. At the end of the meeting, they asked Elder Davis to say a few words. We didn't know what he said to those sweet people, but we could tell by the way they listened, that they loved what he had to say about the Gospel.

Immediately following the meeting, they all invited us to come back and eat with their branch after the three-hour block. We really wanted to return to be with them, but we had an errand to run first. Elder Davis wanted to go a visit a friend who couldn't make it to church that day, so we left to see her. We caught a tuk tuk over to her work. She was thrilled to see Elder Davis. He visited with her for just a few minutes, and while we were there, he received a phone call, again asking if we would please come back to eat with the church members. We headed right back. When we got there, the youth were setting up tables for lunch. Out of probably seventy people in their branch, I bet fifty or more stayed to eat. They loved one another. They truly enjoyed each other's company. As we looked around at these sweet, kind, humble people, who would give you anything they had, if only you'd ask, we were in awe, and we were ashamed.

What do we take for granted? Absolutely everything. What a great example those people were to us that day! We will never forget them. The charity they showed was such an example, as they fed us first, gave us the most, and wanted more than anything for us to be happy and just enjoy being there. What a gift they gave us that day! We are so blessed! Blessed to live where we do. Blessed to be able to speak freely and worship how we choose, without fear. We are so grateful to those people for loving Elder Davis the way they did. For taking care of him while we were unable to. That gift of love will never be forgotten.  

A Grizzly Bear and an Answer to Prayer by Laurette Platt

With the celebration of Pioneer Days, the reflection of inspiring stories from past relatives came into my mind and a desire to share those sweet tales with my grandchildren. So I preceded to relate the adventure my Grandpa Fredrick Hamblin had with a grizzly bear upon a high mountain in Alpine.

To prepare them for this introduction to this brave relative, we got into the minivan and traveled to the beautiful town of Alpine itself. Before reaching the cemetery to find his grave, and see the mountain where the bear lived, we, of course, stopped at the Lollipop Shop for nourishment and refreshment. With suckers in hand and taffy and chocolate in the bag, we found the quaint cemetery hidden among the pines. It was delightful to watch the children run from headstone to headstone as we located Grandpa Hamblin's grave and so many of our dear relatives. They were thrilled to become acquainted with these great people and laughed and squealed with joy as each person was found. We finally set upon the ground, tired and happy with our candy in tow as I began the tale of their great, great, great grandpa. I thought you as readers would enjoy this story as well. It is an inspiration to all who hear it of great faith and perseverance.

Grandpa Hamblin was one of two men who purchased the entire Alpine Valley. He is brother to Jacob Hamblin, the famous tracker and missionary to the Indians. Grandpa had also served as a missionary along with Jacob and was equal in his ability to track and hunt. After the acquisition of the land, Frederick moved his family to the beautiful mountains and began his trade as a rancher and farmer. He was married to Frances Jane Prudum, and they had a happy and prosperous life in the lovely white mountains.

One early winter morning, Grandpa arose to begin his chores. After feeding and checking on the water, he noticed a dead calf in one of his fields. Upon further investigation, he saw bear tracks - Grizzly Bear tracks - all around the dead animal! His heart sank within his chest as he knew the bear would be back for more cattle. He resolved upon a stratagem right then. He would track the bear and kill it. The predator would be gone, and they would have bear meat for the winter as well as a warm winter coat. 

He got his trusted horse, Lucky, his best gun, and food for the day. After bidding the family he loved so much goodbye, he began his journey of tracking the huge animal. The trail led him up one of the tall mountains surrounding the beautiful valley, but Grandpa Hamblin had no success the whole day. He was led on a merry goose chase all over that mountain without a trace of that bear. The day was going quickly, and Frederick realized he would have to head home soon.  Tired and discouraged, he sat on a log to rest, with Lucky by his side. After a few minutes, he heard a rustle behind him in the bushes. As he turned to look, a horrible site caught his eyes. The grizzly bear was upon him, standing to his fullest height and ready to attack. Grandpa had no time to load his gun before the animal was upon him. He instead used the gun to deliver blows to the bear's head and down his throat. It stopped the attack for a minute, and, in the process, knocked out several of the bear's teeth. Alas, it was not long before the bear was upon him, ready to destroy his life. Grandpa was a strong and healthy man so was able to defend himself for some time. In the fight, the bear lost two claws off one paw and three off of the other. As time wore on, though, it became evident that the Grizzly was winning. Frederick became weak from the loss of so much blood and began to realize the bear was killing him. At that point, he began to pray fervently for God's help. As he prayed, a distinct thought came into his mind. He was told to fall to the ground and not to move. He must lay as still as possible, as if he were already dead. Grandpa immediately did as the spirit instructed him to do. As soon as he fell, the bear stopped the work of destruction and got down on all fours. He then began to circle Grandpa Hamblin, sniffing him as he went and nudging him with his nose. After several minutes, the bear ran off into the forest, and Grandpa was left alone with his wounds.

He lay for a long time in shock and gratitude that he was yet alive. He was finally able to, by the grace of God, pull himself up and get onto his valiant horse. He lay across the horse’s back and prayed for a safe return to the cabin.  Lucky was a true and steady horse and was able to make his way down the mountain and back home without losing Grandpa to the ground. It was way after dark when they rode into the homestead. Jane and the children had been praying fervently as well and watching and hoping. As he came to the cabin, they ran out but could not recognize him as he was covered in blood! It was a cold night, and they quickly got him inside, scared and yet overjoyed that he was safe. They made a bed by the roaring fire and began the process of cleaning his wounds while providing hot soup and drink to nourish his depleted body. It took six months for Frederick to walk again and recover. For the first month all he could say was the word "bear" over and over again.

When spring finally came, two hunters visited Grandpa at the cabin. They had interesting news for him. They had been upon the mountain when they came upon a bear that had died. As they inspected it, they realized it was a grizzly and was missing a great number of teeth as well as two claws on one paw and three on the other. They knew it was the bear he had fought, and Grandpa confirmed that for them. The bear must have starved to death with few teeth left and no claws. After they left, Grandpa again knelt in prayer to thank Heavenly Father for saving his life and answering his prayer. Frederick fathered 17 children, established the town of Alpine, and served God all his days.

May this great story touch your family as it has ours for so many years. May it give you hope in the power of prayers and the inspirational whisperings of the spirit. God bless you all!

Baby Steps by Suzanne Hancock

In trying to find a post for this week, as I forgot to ask someone else to write, I came across something I wrote in 2009. It struck a chord in me when I read it, remembering my feelings at the time, and also reminding me how important it is to take steps forward, no matter how small:

My son took his first steps tonight (sniffle, smile, sniffle, smile), which put me in a contemplative mood.

He stumbled, leaned too far forward to keep his balance, tried to go too fast, and needed his dad and me to be there to catch him. He went back and forth, back and forth, his face a smile, our excitement contagious. We all clapped, we all laughed, we all cheered. I wish I could bottle those five minutes and drink it up every day.

Isn't this how we all are throughout life?

We try something new, a career, marriage, a baby!, a friendship, opening our hearts, forgiving someone, embracing who we are.

It is hard. We stumble, we try too hard, we go too fast, but we keep trying. If we don't, we never learn to walk on our own, with our own confidence, our own faith, our own destiny.

We need others to catch us and stand us back up. Without our cheering sections, our successes are mere footnotes rather than headlines.

May we all take the steps that allow us to grow, but more importantly, may we applaud each other's efforts, even calling for an encore.

Elder Neil L. Andersen, speaking in the April 2012 General Conference said this:

"Jesus's call "Come, follow me" is not only for those prepared to compete in a spiritual Olympics. In fact, discipleship is not a competition at all but an invitation to all. Our journey of discipleship is not a dash around the track, nor is it fully comparable to a lengthy marathon. In reality, it is a lifelong migration toward a more celestial world.

Wherever you now find yourself on the road to discipleship, you are on the right road, the road toward eternal life. Together we can lift and strengthen one another in the great and important days ahead. Whatever the difficulties confronting us, the weaknesses confining us, or the impossibilities surrounding us, let us have faith in the Son of God, who declared, 'All things are  possible to him that believeth.'"

I love thinking that we are all on the same journey, plugging away, taking our first steps in various pursuits and callings and even trials. We are all aiming for the same goal, all equipped with the tools of prayer and scripture study to help us, all making mistakes, all trying to improve.

As I reflect back on that time with my son seven years ago, I am again grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who cheers our efforts, large or small, and who provided a loving Savior to redeem us from our stumbles and our falls.

I, for one, will continue to take my baby steps, moving forward, and celebrating each moment that brings me closer to the person I want to be for now and for eternity.

The Week My Town Doubles in Size by Kamarie Hancock

Every year the town celebrates the many different pioneers that came and settled the little town of St. Johns. Relatives and friends of these pioneers come back each year during this week to celebrate the Pioneers. While growing up in St. Johns, the Pioneer Day celebrations became a part of my life every July. I mean what child wouldn’t want free ice cream given out at the ice cream social? Or to watch a parade and get scores of candy? As a teenager I can remember attending the dances every year; usually, there was a live country band, which was awesome!

Now, as an adult raising my family here, the yearly celebrations mean something a little different. I realize now that there was a lot more to the Pioneer Celebrations than free ice cream, parades, and dances. There is an overwhelming sense of family, community, and ancestry. I did feel that as a youth but didn’t realize the impact it would have on my life until I got older and had a family of my own. There is something special about families coming home by the carloads. The feeling in the air during this upcoming week is different from any event I’ve ever attended. We are all linked together through our ancestry, and the sense of community here is amazing. We are truly blessed to have grown up in St. Johns. We are blessed to be surrounded by so many wonderful friends and family. We are blessed to be able to remember where we came from. And we are blessed to all be reaching towards the same goal. I am blessed to be able to raise my family in such a wonderful place and have them experience the togetherness that happens during this upcoming week. The town of friendly neighbors doubles in size and shares a week filled with celebration in honor of our heritage.

Can you see them...? by Michelle (Baca) Sanders

In May of 2015, our family (the sanders seven) traveled along the pioneer trail.  We went north through Missouri - Independence, Liberty Jail, Far West . . . . - to Nauvoo, Illinois.  From there, we followed as closely as we could along the trail until we reached Salt Lake City, Utah.  There are hundreds of stories that can be told of these days!  So many personal moments of all emotions - each and all strengthened us as a family as they connected us to each other and to those who walked this earth before us.  

The majority of the path we took was through the plains . . . . land for miles to meet the big open sky - few buildings and even fewer cities!  The days were filled with anticipation of where we would arrive throughout the day - most of which took us along backcountry dirt roads, the site recognizable only by the National Park Service sign telling us that we had arrived. . . . .the land where “Come, Come, Ye Saints” was written :: a single grave next to the train tracks :: deep ruts carved into stone . . . .

I would often look out the window across the land to the horizon.  Sometimes there would be a row of hills or mountains.  Sometimes the grasses would meet the unbroken sky.  Sometimes there would be a few trees.  I would see shadows and shapes that looked to me like a line of wagons or handcarts along the horizon, joining our journeys.  Looking out, I would ask my children:  Can you see them?   Can you see the pioneers walking along the trail?   Every time, my Eli would joyfully answer “Yes!”  

As I ponder on those days, I can see them  . . . .  I see their teachings and feel their love and follow their footsteps once again . . . .

They journeyed with something: faith and testimony and hope and love!  They also journeyed towards something: the temple and its blessings, a freedom to worship as they lived their everyday lives, a place to raise their families to God.  They lived their lives along the trail with a lasting purpose that would continue with them long after they reached the Great Salt Lake Valley.  These were people who desired to be Saints each day of their lives - and their journeying with purpose requires me to ask of myself if I am doing the same.  What am I journeying with and towards in my every day?

The pioneers prepared the way for those who would follow them.  Taking time to build ferries to cross water, setting up supply stops, building shelters, planting crops, marking paths, writing in journals.  There was a constant awareness of and deep love for those they knew would need to make the long journey - often including the remainder of their own families.  This connection to each other continues to bring me to tears as I write this - I am filled with a desire to answer well the question:  How is my journey helping and showing love for those who are following me?

They turned to rescue as soon as they knew there were others coming late in the season.  Giving the clothes off their backs and the meager possessions they had to help bring all to Zion.  Leaving their own homes and families to save each saint.  No hesitation.  Then, when the afflicted arrived, taking them into their homes and caring for them - embracing them.  Loving them.  Opening their hearts to each other.  Who in my life is in need of such rescue?  

As was written early in the journey:  “All is well!”  They did not sing “all used to be well” or “all will eventually be well” - they were singing “all is well!”  Many had painfully separated from family who did not believe as they did.  Homes had been burned.  Mobs had threatened and attacked.  Sickness raged through camps.  Shoes were worn through.  Loved ones were buried.  Food was scarce.  Almost everything was left behind - possessions as well as a way of life.  They were facing the unknown.  

And yet . . . .

and yet, they continued to sing all is well. . . . 

for with each step upon grassy plains and over rocky ridges - as they faced the unknown they experienced being known.  They came to know their God as their Father and themselves as His beloved children.  “The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay.”

Oh!  To daily walk with a present inthemoment gratitude, joy and recognition of God in my life!  To know Him and to be known by Him!  How I love my Father and my Savior!

I join with them - making this chorus swell:  All is well!  All is well!

Editor's Note: Michelle (Baca) Sanders is the daughter of Jacque (Heap) Baca. Michelle currently resides in Gilbert with her husband, Michael, and their five children.

Missionary Parents by Ray & Brandee Davis

730 days.

17,520 hours.

1,051,200 minutes away from home.

108 Emails.

4 much-needed phone calls.

Countless prayers.

Constant concern.

Immeasurable pride.

Pure joy.

Tender mercies.

Numerous Miracles.

Loneliness.

Pride.

Happiness.

Exceptional growth.

Lifetime bonds.

Gratitude.

Never-ending stories.

Cheerful service.

Anxiety.

Impatience.

Overwhelming love.

Finally Home.

What I Have Learned from Having Kids by Ashley Doubt

1. Time goes too fast.

2. My kids are always dressed better than I am.

3. When they laugh and smile, I feel like I'm doing something right in that moment.

4. The mopping, dishes, & vacuuming can wait when they want to play.

5. My patience is being tested to every known level possible.

6. They don't always listen, but they are always watching.

7. I have so much more respect for my parents raising me with no iPad.

8. It's the little things that keep them happy. For example, painting Ava's toe nails a different color on each toe even though it's a pain. 

9. I am not a very good cook, so Mac n cheese, corn dogs, & chicken nuggets are my favorite go to items. 

10. Privacy is overrated.

11. Being a momma is worth every stretch mark, wrinkle, and sleepless night. And I am so tired, but yet so happy.