Sunday, April 27, 2014

Why Did the Lord Bring me to St. Johns?

April 1, 2014

When I was four years old, my grandmother showed me a picture of Jesus Christ, and she said, “This is Jesus Christ, if you’re ever scared or in danger pray to Him. He will hear you, He is your friend, He is always there for you, He will always help you.” As a child I would often catch my grandmother praying on her knees.

Learning about Jesus Christ, and watching my grandmother pray on her knees, is a lesson that I learned as a small child, and would ultimately save my life. I would find myself praying occasionally, usually when I was in deep hole or in serious trouble like overdosing on cocaine or alcohol, that’s when I prayed. Funny how in retrospect I can now see how the Lord not only sent help when I asked for it, but answered many of my prayers. For example, while I still lived in New York I prayed to God to help me out of my addictions. He sent me the LDS missionaries and when they told me about Joseph Smith I knew for sure they were crazy, and ultimately refused God’s help or his answer to my prayer.

Around November 1996, I ended up in the emergency room in New York and ultimately in a detox center for alcohol and drug addiction. When I got to my room I found a bible in the night stand and because I was so scared I held that bible against my chest, and in a fetal position in my bed repeated these words, “God, please help me get through this,” over and over and over falling asleep repeating those words.

It occurred to me years later how God would answer that prayer because during detox I was the only one out of sixty plus heroin and cocaine addicts that did not receive any medications during the 28 day detox process. All others had uncontrollable shakes, sweating profusely, nightmares and a host of other withdrawal symptoms that I never experienced. (Thank you Heavenly Father) How amazing is that miracle!

When I joined the church in March of 1996 I would learn to pray properly and with way more respect and meaning, and you know Heavenly Father would answer my prayer by giving me some assignment like stake missionary or visiting families in their homes. I really did not get it--I was asking for something specific, like I really needed more finances, but I did not receive any cash, nor did I ever win at any of those lotto tickets nobody ever knew about. And I was not very diligent at visiting those families and had no clue about what a stake missionary does and had a poor attitude about it.

It has taken me almost 15 years as a member of this church to learn this beautiful and glorious lesson.  I have learned that prayers are answered in the form of callings and assignments and in being diligent and do the very best you can at what the Lord has asked you to do, whether it’s 11 year old scouts, pack meetings, home teaching, or attending a boring meeting when you and two others are the only ones there and 13 are missing. When my testimony finally outgrew my fear, I was catapulted towards Christ and have tried to continue on that path. I have learned that amazing things happen when we are obedient to the whisperings of the Holy Spirit and ultimately those whisperings are the ones that lead us back to Christ. 

Clearly what I am saying is that many times in my life I have prayed for this or for that, and the Lord always answers my prayer, but not in the way I expect. The Lord seems to give me special assignments, like teaching a class at a last minute’s notice, or picking up a hitchhiker and supplying him with a hot meal, or telling someone I had a dream about you and the Lord wants you to know how much He loves you. These are the things that have grown my testimony tremendously, these are the things that he continuously asks of me and these are the things that have strengthened our relationship. It’s a sad day for me when I have no assignment because assignments are the things that bring the most joy to my life. When I’m on assignment I am a better father, a better husband, and a better person. I am so grateful for the love He has for me and for the powerful testimony that he has caused within me through special assignments.

        Now let me tell what this all has to do with St. Johns. We moved here in July of 2007 and to tell you the truth I did not feel all the love that many profess they feel when they move here. In the beginning, moving here was painful for us, we sacrificed a lot, and for a long time I had no clue why the Lord wanted us to come here. We liked the idea of feeling safe in a smaller community, especially where our children are concerned. We were struggling financially, and I remember calling the elders quorum president and his counselors for a whole week and no one ever returned my call. I was desperate to find work, a job, or sell some of our belongings so that we could feed ourselves and the children. I was way too proud to ask the bishop for help, so I thought I would try calling my leaders again, but again no one would return my calls. I felt let down, unimportant and to tell you the truth very unwanted here. I was angry and swore that I would never attend elders quorum ever again. For several months I would go to sacrament meeting only and then go home.

One day a member of the stake presidency came to our home on a Sunday afternoon, and I knew immediately why he was here. I invited him to come in and sit down. I was very polite to him, after all, this guy never hurt me. Inside I knew my pride was not going to let me give in. I was still angry and I swore I was going to hold onto my anger as long as I could. No one was going to convince me to go back to elders quorum, besides, a part of me enjoyed coming home early to catch football games (NFL)! During the time we sat on the couch this member of the stake presidency asked me to tell him my testimony. What?? I thought. That’s a rather odd request, however I accommodated him, and during the bearing of my testimony my anger and all those bad feelings I was trying so hard to hold onto were burned away. They were purged out of me through tears and testimony. The spirit reentered into me and my home. What a glorious feeling! At first I tried to fight it, but it was no use--I was no match for Heavenly Father and the atonement (what Christ did on the cross), so that I could one day get rid of all the stuff that had been separating me from God for so many years.

Now this is why I believe the Lord brought me to St. Johns, and for a couple of other reasons. One named Leslie who taught me to lift where you stand, to say and do good things, not bad things, and that if you’re going to open your mouth, let it be something positive instead of gossip. Second reason named Chris, who taught me that it is my responsibility to lead my family in prayer, in family home evening, and that as the priesthood holder of the household I would be held accountable for leading my family home, back to the presence of our loving Father in Heaven who originally gave us charge over our families. As a fairly new member of this church I simply never knew that, no one ever told me in those words. When I left Chris that day I went home and looked in the mirror and was determined with a new-found force to apply the things he said to my life. Thank you Chris and thank you Leslie for delivering those special messages to me. This is why the Lord brought us to St. Johns and I am so grateful for all He does for me.



Orlando Mora




Sunday, April 20, 2014

He is Risen!

Can't you feel it in the air this beautiful Easter morning?  The warmth of the Spring sun and the knowledge that on a gorgeous day like this our Savior was risen from death…it fills my soul with happiness.

Many years ago, when I was about 15, my mother "strongly encouraged" me to sing in the ward choir for an Easter program.  I didn't have the right spirit about it as we began practice in January for an April program.  However, I went diligently with my mother and listened as an awesome "music man" listed the numbers we would learn and bore testimony to us of the beauty and inspiration that" only music can lend to a soul".  His name was Rendall Gibbons, and his plan was to describe and tell of the life of Christ using the music that has been written over various years.  The program would open with many Christmas hymns that portrayed the story of His birth.   Far, Far Away On Judeah's Plains, O Little Town of Bethlehem, and Joy to the World, were among the numbers expected of us to learn. Then he wanted us to tackle, songs like O Divine Redeemer, How Great Thou Art, and even The Messiah, to testify of Christ's life, death, and resurrection.  We set out to work, and it was just that...WORK.  He expected perfection out of our small, meager choir.  We sang and resang, harmonized and reharmonized.  There were many choir members that had experience singing, like Sister Esther Davis among several others.  I remember thinking it made perfect sense for her to be there with her beautiful voice to lend to the Lord, but for those of us, me in particular, who had been recruited, well we had a real challenge before us.  But, somehow, this beautiful man Brother Gibbons, convinced us that we could perform these numbers as well as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir! He carried an amazing spirit of music. And he was contagious!   So with joy (and a slight bit of fear) in our hearts, I distinctly remember praying together as a choir that our performance would please the Lord, and testify of him.  What an awesome spirit filled that loft, both during that prayer and the performance.  We truly sang our testimonies for and to God, and it was amazing!  I seriously believe that angels were amongst us, lending their spirits and voices of this truth!  I'm not sure how we sounded exactly, but I remember Brother Gibbons, as well as others being moved to tears.  Funny how the Spirit can work through even some of the most unassuming instruments.

I guess my point in recounting this is that over the course of those months, I gained a testimony of my Savior.  Spending time with music that praised him and taught of his mercy and love gave me the basis of a testimony that will always burn in me.  I know He lives!  I know he loves us all.  I know He provides a way back for all of us through repentance, forgiveness, mercy, and above all His love for us!

I woke up this morning with the tune of O Divine Redeemer in my mind.  In particular the words,      

                                                           Hear my cry, hear my cry 
Save me, Lord in Thy mercy; Hear my cry, hear my cry! Come and save me, O Lord!
O divine Redeemer!  O divine Redeemer! I pray Thee, grant me pardon, and remember not Remember not, O Lord, my sins!
Save in the day of retribution From death shield Thou me, O my God! O divine Redeemer, have mercy! Help me Savior!

The good news for any whose souls are "crying out", those filled with various types of anguish, but also for those who have found peace… the good news is that He lives!  And all things are possible through him.  Believe Him and find peace and love.  Then pay it forward...

I will always be grateful for Easter Sundays, and ever grateful to my Savior and His love.

-Kirstin Udall


Saturday, April 12, 2014

A Fortunate June Day

When people ask me how we ended up settling down in St. Johns, my response is… "Just lucky I guess!"  Our path here, in a nutshell, goes like this: in a small town not far from here, where I grew up, a young, dashing, loud, farcical, Polish New Yorker ended up following his construction working brothers to a job in that town.  We met, fell in love, one year later married, and headed off to college in Mesa.  The Persian Gulf War called him off for a while and when he returned, we chose a college that was family friendly in Missouri, where we could start our family.  

Our first little tyke was born, and we realized we were in over our heads and we were going to need help raising him!  We moved back to Arizona to be closer to family, and had our second little whippersnapper, while attending college at Northern Arizona University.  We finished college, celebrated with a third little bambino, and applied for teaching jobs all over Arizona.  On a warm and windy June day, Nestor Montoya, from St. Johns Unified School District, called the dashing, farcical daddy in for an interview, and hired Tony as a special education teacher that day.  The next day, several other school districts called, but our luck was in motion and St. Johns was becoming our home!

We noticed right away that there was something special about St. Johns, despite the rumors that "it is difficult to fit in without belonging to the correct groups", or the "correct families."  We found that the people in this town were very friendly and welcoming to our young family.  We quickly developed friendships with several families in our neighborhood, and in the school system, and we realized we had a strong support group to help us uphold our belief in the saying, “it takes a village to raise a child.” Our comfort in finding a place to call home was sealed  by me being hired as a part-time teacher, and then the birth of our fourth little cub!  

As our youngsters grew, we became more and more aware of our good fortune in ending up here.  Our boys were able to join sports teams where they were exposed to some of the best men that could possibly exist, and in turn learned how to be good men.  They participated in Boy Scouts and religious activities in several different churches where they learned a love of God, family, life and their fellow man.  They joined summer camps through 4H where they learned how to fire a weapon, shoot archery, raise an animal, and how to respectfully use the earth's resources.  Our guys also acquired jobs where great bosses taught them how to arrive on time, follow orders from authority, work hard, please the customer, etc. etc.

The school system in this town has also proved to be above and beyond what we could have asked for.  Much to our dismay, we quickly discovered that our high-spirited energetic boys were… ponderous learners.  Many a teacher in St. Johns Schools called upon my husband or myself to take corrective measures when one son or another began to fall off the tracks behaviorally, (which in one incident resulted in "junior" being pulled from Junior High wrestling practice for talk with mom while silent team members and coaches, to this day, describe hearing the hard clip clopping of mom's high heels until the two were "well past the library!")  

Additionally, teachers also made us aware when one of our little sprouts tried to slide in an assignment with minimal effort; for example, an assignment to build a diorama depicting a fifties era setting ended up as a box of dirt, with a popsicle stick sign stuck in the middle of it reading, "Drive In: Closed for Re-modeling".  The call from the teacher resulted in a family all-nighter where the said child led the erecting of an all but functioning, mini drive in movie theatre.  Thanks to St. Johns teachers, our little lads found that their educators cared too much for them to allow them to waste the gift of free education, as well as the gift of free behavioral management. What a relief it was to eventually see each of our guys meet or exceed all academic expectations, and become slightly more subservient students.

The friendships made between our little pumpkins and other kids while in school, and in the aforementioned activities, have been priceless!  I will admit that there may have been the occasional incident when one of our kids, and a friend may have gotten into some trouble for such things as, climbing on the roof of a building in town with a skateboard in tow, or for "misfiring" a paintball gun within city limits, or on Halloween… oh… maybe it is best that I do not mention Halloween, my boys, and pumpkins in the same paragraph.  My point is, that in the end, the friendships were as priceless and lasting as the lessons learned.  At the end of the day, we always placed an extra plate or two at the table for whichever friends might be around at suppertime.

It must be hard for someone, not from St. Johns, to imagine raising kids in a town where so many experiences, activities, and great people are available.  I would never have believed it myself if Tony and I hadn't gotten so lucky when Nestor called on that warm and windy June day!

-By Mary Jo Raykovitz

Saturday, April 5, 2014

The Wind Beneath Our Wings

‘Twas spring again in ole’ St. Johns,
and all through the Arizona town,
the Wind made its annual presence known,
nearly knocking small children down.

Cries of “Auntie Em!” were heard,
reminiscent of a Kansas-famed storm.
Along the airport’s chain-link fence,
a tumbleweed mural took form.

Would there be snow or sunshine a’ plenty?
For there seemed no in-between.
But one thing was for certain-
There would be a flying trampoline.

Lilac bushes were prepared to bloom,
and apricot trees were poppin’,
heedless of the one last freeze
that their fruition would be stoppin’.

That fly ball hit out to left field?
Well, Mother Nature’s home run it became.
Not even a weather-service dust-storm warning
is enough cause to cancel the game.

The mistral wall the tracksters hit
sprinting around that last bend,
dirt in their hair and teeth and eyes,
digging in, they always reach the end.

Rabbits, spiders, lizards, runners-
all emerge from long winter’s hibernation.
One day near 80, the next barely 50,
they are thrown into consternation.

Yet, not stopped by a breeze ever mighty,
nor halted by a lack of moisture,
San-Juan-ites relentlessly march onward
with a faith and a fortitude pure.

At the park will be Easter picnics,
Squash, grass, and marigolds planted still,
Prayers for rain uttered from each pulpit,
With the hope that every reservoir will fill.

The trees will turn green, this we know,
strong roots forged from years of fighting gales,
not unlike the formidable people here,
whose love of God, family, and friends never fails.

~By Suzanne Hancock