Beyond the Gingham Dress

            “I won't ever live here...I won't!  I will never live in the desert!”   I blurted out to Clint on our way back to college after one of my first visits to St. Johns.  He just smiled that charming Arizona boy smile and replied “You marry me, and we will live anywhere you want.”

            ….and we do.

            I am reminded of the true story entitled “Gingham Dress”.             

            A lady in a faded gingham dress and her husband dressed in a homespun suit, stepped off the train in Boston and walked timidly without an appointment into the Harvard University President's outer office.  The secretary could tell in a moment that such backwoods, country hicks had no business at Harvard and probably didn't even deserve to be in Cambridge.

            “We'd like to see the president,” the man said softly.

           

            “He'll be busy all day,” the secretary snapped.

            “We'll wait,” the lady replied.

            For hours the secretary ignored them, hoping that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away.  They didn't, and the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president, even though it was a chore she always regretted. 

            “Maybe if you see them for a few minutes, they'll leave,” she said to him.

            He sighed in exasperation and nodded.  Someone of his importance obviously didn't have the time to spend with them, and he detested gingham dresses and homespun suits cluttering up his outer office.  The president, stern faced and with dignity, strutted toward the couple.

            The lady told him, “We had a son who attended Harvard for one year.  He loved Harvard.  He was happy here.  But about a year ago, he was accidentally killed.  My husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him, somewhere on campus.”

            The president wasn't touched.  He was shocked. “Madam, he said gruffly, “We can't put up a statue for every person who attended Harvard and died.  If we did, this place would look like a cemetery.”

            “Oh, no.” the lady explained quickly, “We don't need to erect a statue.  We thought we would like to give a building to Harvard.”

            The president rolled his eyes.  He glanced at the gingham dress and homespun suit, and then exclaimed, “A building!  Do you have any earthly idea how much a building costs?  We have over seven and a half million dollars in the physical buildings here at Harvard.”

            For a moment the lady was silent.  The president was pleased.  Maybe he could get rid of them now.

            The lady turned to her husband and said quietly, “Is that all it costs to start a university?  Why don't we just start our own?”  Her husband nodded.  The president's face wilted in confusion and bewilderment.

            Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford got up and walked away, traveling to Palo Alto, California, where they established the university that bears their name, Stanford University, a memorial to a son that Harvard no longer cared about.

           

            At first glance, St. Johns may be that “gingham dress”, but look closer...the riches underneath, are unfathomable!

             I grew up in a place that, I was sure, could only be compared to the Garden of Eden.  Its beauty was beyond compare.  Whether it was the the green pastures dotted with fat cattle, the background of snowcapped mountains covered in pines or the wild flowers at every turn, I was convinced that nothing on earth could hold a candle to this country.  I looked at everything else like that “gingham dress”.  To me, nothing meant “gingham dress” more than sage brush and tumble weed.  Even my family once said “We love Clint, we just don't want him to drag you to Arizona.”  I quickly reminded them that no one “drags” me anywhere and that I would never live there.  Fork and spoon please, I am still eating those words.

            I wish that I had some magical story to tell of the moment my heart changed, the moment that I could suddenly see the riches this “gingham dress” held.  I don't though. Maybe it was sudden.   Maybe it was a little at a time.  I don't know, what I do know is that by the time we chose to move here, I could see it.  I now see beauty in sage brush, and yes, even tumble weed.  I find that no where on earth compares St. Johns when it comes to sun sets and sun rises.  Even so, that is not what makes this dress truly beautiful to me. It is more than that.

•     It is the coach, who shows up at my house out of the blue (during the off season, nonetheless) to talk to my boy about making good decisions early, because that coach cares.

•     It is the neighbor who video tapes that solo of my daughter for me because she notices that I am not there.

•      It is the friend who I see grab the video camera out of the hand of another friend who is trying to tape her son wrestling and is shaking too much to get it done.

•      It is the football team, delivering wood to those in need because they are looking outside of themselves.  

•     It is the many women who took turns bottle feeding the set of triplet girls born to our town during every feeding shift (day and night) because that is what St. Johns does.

•      It is the music teacher who makes sure every child has a part in the program and has taught them all how to dance. (always evident at the family dances where children of all ages two step the night away) 

•     It is long list of “Aunts and Uncles” who are related in love but not blood to my children.

•     It is a school of teenagers who knows how beautiful and amazing their fellow student who has downs syndrome is and elect her as their homecoming queen.

    

            The list goes on and on.  While I may not know what exactly that it was that woke me up from a blindness to “gingham”, I am grateful.  I love “that gingham dress” that I call home. 

Cherie Wiltbank

Beyond the Wind

When I moved to Saint Johns 31 years ago little did I know how much I would come to love this Town of Friendly Neighbors.  I grew up in Duncan, AZ. and Snowflake, AZ.  Also good towns, but neither have touched my heart like Saint Johns. 

I had met a great guy in the YSI, Young Special Interest group and we dated and fell in love and after a couple of months got married.  Bob had moved to Saint Johns via Eagar, Prescott and San Diego and was working for Brown and Root then eventually for Tucson Electric Power. Bob was living in a little rental belonging to and right next door to Wilford and Mabel Shumway and so we started our marriage out in a wonderful neighborhood full of caring and loving neighbors.  It was a romantic and learning time for us in that little apartment.  Basically we had a very meager paycheck, but we decided to try to build some food storage anyway.  Back then there was Triple S grocery store.  The store belonged to our landlord and operated by his daughter Ann.  Once in a while she had drawings for groceries.  We won twice and I have often suspected Ann and Brother Shumway of "making" sure we won because they knew we needed it.  Brother and Sister Shumway were always so good to us.  Our neighbors on the other side of us were Mel and LaVelle DeSpain and Ted and Julie Raban.  I cannot say how much Bob and I love and appreciate all these special and lovely folks.  They have brightened up our lives in so many ways, still do. 

Eventually Bob and I bought 25 acres about 3 miles south of town.  We love our place and even call it Humphreys' Heaven.  Both of our wells were drilled by Nielsen Well Drilling and we will always be grateful to them for this great blessing.  Water is so essential here.

I have always been amazed at the "old home town" feeling I get in Saint Johns.  So many people are related and I am still learning relationships.  I attended a funeral once where some ladies sang their changed rendition to a well known song making it "I love those dear hearts and friendly people who live and love in old Saint Johns".  I decided right then that I want that same sentiment at my funeral.  There is something about this place that gets into your bones.  I have thought about it often over the years and I just don't know how to describe it.  The people are wonderful, but the town itself is just as wonderful.  The history of the very buildings, the businesses that struggle to survive, the dry riverbed, the Christmas lights across main street, the amazing 4th of July activities to the 24th of July festivities.  I love to see all the families get together on the 24th.  Actually one of my favorite days of the year is the 24th of July parade.  The special Sacrament meeting is a highlight of the year.  

I also discovered I have roots in Saint Johns.  My third Great Grandfather is Nathan Cram Tenney, one of the first to be sent by President Brigham Young to settle Saint Johns.  I love that I have old connections to this town. To date, Great Grandfather has the tallest headstone in the cemetery. 

The wind is also a big part of this place.  I have heard it said that when the Saints came here to settle they decided to stay just until the wind stopped blowing.  That is why we are still here.  Actually, I think they stayed because they could see beyond the wind, the dry ground and lack of water.  They saw a place where they could raise their children to be strong in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.   

To live in Saint Johns one needs to be strong.  True Saint Johns residents are fiercely loyal to this town and their homes.  We are strong enough to endure the wind, the cold, and the lack of water.  We know who our Savior is and strive every day to live His teachings in a place where we are free to do so.  We love Arizona and we love this great United States of America. 

Laura Humphreys

Through Faith We Can Move Mountains

About a month ago I went in for an interview with my bishop, Bishop Heap. During it he asked me the questions are you paying a full tithe and do you attend your church meetings regularly? To which I replied “I am striving to.” During the course of the interview I also told him that most the time when I am at church it because of my wife and that I am thankful for all that she does for me and our family. 

The next thing that came out of his mouth was quite astonishing to me. He said, ”Jake, why strive when you can just do it have faith and the Lord will bless you?”

I was speechless. He said, "Let me put it in a way that you may better understand. You should be three things in your life, the provider, protector, and patriarch of your family. The first two usually come easy to most men the last seems to be harder. But in my opinion the last is the most important of the three.” He then challenged me to be a better Patriarch for my family.

When I got home from the interview I reported the conversation to my wife Elizabeth to which I added sometimes I just wish that my faith alone was enough. The first thought to pop into my head next was, " If you have faith the size of a mustard seed you can move mountains", to which I thought ok yeah I definitely have that. Shortly after that the thought "Faith Without Works Is Dead" came trotting along and as it passed me by kicked me in the gut. My stomach sure did feel nasty. I realized that I can have faith the size of the world but with no action it was useless. I thought of all the different things that I could be doing to be a better patriarch and boy did the list start to pile up. I had started to think that this was going to be harder than I thought.

The other week I had the opportunity to officiate the St. Johns holiday basketball tournament. While watching a game between Many Farms and Williams, there was a hard foul on a Many Farms player where his head slammed down on the court. The gym fell silent but within seconds there was a man that had come out of the stands. I don’t know if it was his father or just a fan, but he came down and stood over him and blessed him. It absolutely amazed me. I knew that that man had faith and in blessing that player he made sure he acted upon it and never questioned it for a second. I was amazed at the faith that that man showed.

My dad told me once that if you have the faith of a mustard seed you can move mountains. He said, "I don’t think you are going to walk up to the mountain tell it to move and it will unearth itself and move. But I do believe that if you pick up a shovel and start digging and continue to have faith that you will eventually move the mountain. "

I have realized in all of this, that as long as I have faith and continue to work my Heavenly Father will see my effort and in return bless me in ways that I cannot imagine. I know that everyone has struggles and that they are all different, but I know that faith can be applied in almost all facets of our lives and that it is the work that we do to accompany that faith that makes the difference.

I encourage everyone to pick up their shovels and little by little move their mountains and know that through faith nothing is impossible.

Jake Udall

Cheering from the Sidelines

Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to watch my kids participate in quite a few state playoff games.  In the weeks and days leading up to the game, the excitement and anxiety is felt by the whole family.  Sometime prior to the game, I’ve given my children the same advice.  “Don’t be so nervous that you forget to appreciate what you’ve done.  Very few people get this chance.  Take a deep breath, look around, and enjoy yourself.  And no matter what happens, I love you.”

As a parent and spectator of those games, I’ve chewed my fingernails, covered my eyes and even fallen to the ground in relief.   I’ve paced behind the bleachers, snapped pictures and cheered wildly while running down stadium steps.  In every case, my greatest wish has been to be there with my child and his or her teammates.  However, with the AIA (the entity that governs Arizona High School sports) standards I, along with the other fans, have been required to remain behind the fence or in the stands when the game concluded.  No amount of anger, cajoling, begging, or flattery could grant me physical access to the team.  And so, I was left watching from a distance as the players and coaches celebrated a victory or mourned a loss.  In those moments of greatest happiness or deepest despair, I would have given anything to be at my child’s side.  Whether it was to comfort a distraught daughter or rejoice with an exhausted son, I had hoped to share the moment with them.  But sitting on the sidelines, all I could do was shout and wave hoping for their attention.  Hoping that I could provide the support that they needed.  Hoping that they would remember my advice to enjoy themselves, to be proud of their efforts and always remember my love.

As I’ve looked back at those situations, I’ve often thought that it is not unlike our journey here on Earth.  Prior to birth, Heavenly Father surely taught us and loved us he planned for our earthly existence.  Yet as we experience this life, His own standards leave Him in the bleachers, hoping, watching, and cheering. I’m sure he would love to personally comfort us when we are weak or celebrate with us when we succeed.  Yet just like my experiences in the bleachers of football and softball games, He has to remain physically distant from His children.  And yet, He’s still there, hoping that we will look up to Him in our trials as well as our triumphs.  He wants us to turn to him through prayer.  He wants us to remember His lessons and teachings.  Most importantly, he wants us to always remember His love.

President Spencer W. Kimball taught: “God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs. Therefore, it is vital that we serve each other.” 

There are many times that I’ve felt “sidelined” as a parent.  Not by the restrictions of the AIA, but by my own flaws, ineffectiveness or circumstances.  It’s been in those difficult situations that my heartfelt prayers have been answered by acts of service from this humble community.  Those answers have come in the form of patient coaches who have been able to teach my children lessons they don’t want to hear from me.  They have come in gifts of tortillas when Cade separated his shoulder and in ice cream when Lauren knocked her teeth out. They come from my kids’ friends who have set good examples.  They come from dedicated teachers who realize that helping kids grow personally is as important as teaching a subject matter.  Equally, these same good people have offered sincere joy in my children’s success.  They’ve clipped newspaper articles that mention my kids.  They’ve shown interest in recent games and upcoming activities.  They have sought ways to individually meet with my children to encourage and praise them.   In each instance, I’m reminded that God does watch over my family and me.   Through the strength, assurance, guidance and support of my friends and neighbors, I am reminded of my Heavenly Father’s presence.  It is in their simple acts of kindness that I recognize His love.

Marcie Ashton