Hearts Turned Toward Fathers

Rare highlights in these run-together days of isolating tend to assume

heroic proportions. We miss being able to "treat" the Manchester

area Elders or Sisters to dinner and a chat. This week we created

an occasion to do something "like unto" it: we ordered

curbside pickup from Olive Garden for Sisters Semadeni

and Young, on the condition that we would be able to deliver

it to them while keeping our distance. Here I am handing it off

at the end of a XC ski pole as Sister Young "receives" it at

the end of her broomstick!

They always reward us with thank-you notes and tokens

of gratitude. Here I am holding the early spring nosegay . . .

. . . that accompanies their note card.

The time stamp at the top of this post is significant to us.

April 26th is the birthday of my wonderful father August (Gus).

I have been thinking of him especially a lot this week,

and comparing notes, my sister and brothers have been too.

(This group picture was taken the last time we were all

assembled for Thanksgiving at the Warner household.)

Below, is a favorite of my son Cory's, from Dad's executive

days, looking westward from his mid-70s Salt Lake office 

of Deloitte where he was Partner-In-Charge.

Less historically, I was able to drop in to visit with him

on his birthday (2016) as he manned his shift at the Conference

Center (Missionary Host). This was a taxing assignment

for him at the end, but he said he felt invigorated and 

strengthened as he served and walked and explained there.

This was the final time, I believe, that I saw him on duty.

He was a very accomplished man, and I wish I could share all

the wonderful ways he blessed my life. I often feel him near, and 

hear his "catch phrases" of advice and wisdom in my mind. 

One surprising thing was his developed interest after retirement 

(from public accounting) in counted cross-stitch (fun to 

teach him something after he taught me so many things). 

Here are two of the prized pieces he completed: 

Grandfather's Barn & Grandmother's House.

Dad is often on mind and heart these days. As I walk

near our apartment along St. Anselm Drive, I pass many

beautiful homes. This one always catches my fancy, and

(accurately or not), it evokes Dad's childhood home

on O Street in the Avenues of Salt Lake City.

Inspiration for this week's post comes from general themes

in 2 Nephi as I've been reading recently, where are

mentioned the "turning of hearts" of children toward fathers, 

and connected blessings from Heaven. 

We've been thinking of our two wonderful fathers. 

While I don't have ready access

in my remote location here to a picture of Lloyd Warner, Vince

always mentions one attribute of his dad instantly when asked.

Lloyd hated fishing, but when young Vince wanted to go do that,

he made it possible, helping with preparations and logistics,

and making it seem as though it was an enjoyable activity.

(When we found this consignment painting print at Country 

Cobwebs in Warner this week, it was an instant purchase!)

Easy the task to think about Vince's progenitors recently,

as we made Warner, NH our destination outing in

an otherwise very mundane week. Only 45 minutes away.

 Here is Vince, posing between outbursts of surprise

that we weren't being offered the keys to the town.

Do you see that Warner, NH is pre-revolutionary?

(Just to be clear, Vince's Warner line were originally

Werners, emigrating from Germany at 

mid to late 17th century. Not related to Jonathan Warner,

citizen of Portsmouth, after whom the re-established

town was named.)

We've visited Warner before, on a trip 3.5 decades ago,

stopping to get a picture in front of the post office

and firehouse signs to prove that it happened.

In the old days, I would have walked in and had 

"my passport stamped" to commemorate.

As a quasi-resident of NH, I don't do that, and right now they

would frown on such "non-essential" virus exposure.

Once we returned home, Vince posed in his BYU colored

t-shirt which offers the geographic coordinates.

Some recently-perused travelogue hyperbole touted 

"typical New England" locales as "colorful autumn foliage and white 

country churches." Warner, NH, would qualify on both counts.

(Warner Congregational Church)

 We discovered that Warner has THREE covered bridges,

and we visited two (more on that topic in a later post).

Here is the Waterloo covered bridge, exterior and . . .

. . . and interior so the crossing beam construction

is visible, and . . .

. . . here is the Dalton.

Scenic country views caught my fancy as I saw spring

lambs and ewes in a field. (Vince hopped the fence

with his cell camera to take these much closer than

I would have been able to).

As part of our quest to capture historic stone fences

and cellar walls, we visited a historic cemetery near

Exit 8 (Lower Warner Cemetery) perched on a hill

with town road and I-89 skirting on two sides.

(No Warners buried here.)

Someone had carefully tended to veteran graves.

This marker is for Joseph Burke, 1757-1829.

He was a veteran of the Revolutionary War -

something you don't find in Utah or Idaho.

While we work to re-define what our mission service

looks like (Vince continues to be quite busy),

we have large quantities of time to ponder and consider.

We were born of goodly parents, certainly, with rich

and varied heritage.

For me, as I celebrate once again the birthday of Dad, 

without my beloved siblings near to buoy me up,

my lamp is full of oil that will light my way always.

Love you, Dad!

How have the people in YOUR family tree blessed

and enriched your life, and made you who you are?

Clarity Cascading

Week Four of NH Stay At Home orders, so I begin with

this special, hand-drawn message from our friend Andrea

who shares her deep feelings of Hope in Christ.

I enjoy how the parachutes that are still attached to

the wand are heart-tipped - I feel her love extended.

As we are strengthened each day with understanding,

research, possibly-diminishing effects of virus,

focusing on the CANs instead of CAN'Ts,

we find that the whisper of HOPE is growing. 

We'll get through this before too long. 

No debate: this is a different landscape than we're used to

and a truly unforgettable time. In fact, it is easy to declare,

"Toto, I don't think were are in Kansas anymore."

(This altered downspout around the corner from

our apartment brightened my day when I noticed it.)

Getting out of the apartment for walks and rambles has become

our "restorative", as will be chronicled more in this post.

On a new walking route through a different neighborhood,

I passed this vehicle parked in a driveway.

It also made me chuckle with accidental introspection:

this may have been the next-best or only available

variation of "WARRIOR". But when I read it silently to myself,

it came out WORRY-ER.  That's me: Princess Worry-er!

My super power!

If I could talk face to face with you, I would ask what you are

finding to be your "comfort" mechanisms. How are you coping?

What helps you settle down, close out the terrors, 

find inner peace to "be still and know"?

My early-in-the-year diet plan is sunk, because this, below,

is my favorite thing right now (even better in my new

Georgetown Pottery 8 oz. ceramic mug), as well as

those lavender bubble baths at the end of the day

(which choice my fingernails rue).

I am glad it is mid-April now, and that sunny days, warmer

weather, and earlier day-dawns help lift my spirits.

This weekend, we took the suggestion of the Sansoucie family

from the Canterbury Ward and made a trip to western

New Hampshire (the Monadnock region) to explore.

(This picture here is 'spoiled' as Vince points to the arrow

to demonstrate for me where the 'eye' dot should be

placed, to make it into a fish!)

The Chesterfield Gorge is a fairly small natural NH State

Park with a trail loop that parallels the cascading of

the Wilde Brook as it tumbles down the gorgeous granite

(I'll talk about NH as 'Granite State' another time)

in the midst of a lovely forest.

Even before reaching the trail head, near the parking lot,

there was plenty to behold. Emerging lawn was carpeted with

last autumn's acorn bounty, and since they look so much

like hazelnuts (among my favorites), I was continually

and instinctively wanting to scoop them up for later

(my inner squirrel). So here begins my recounting of

 the life lessons that our nature ramble helped to "clarify" - 

hence the post title: Lots of "seeds" but not ALL must be 

taken in and nurtured. Choose the better part. 

Let the best find fertile ground.

Here, at the top of the Upper Falls, beauty is already

abundant. And as Andrea also reminded me today,

"There's spiritual food everywhere you look."

Rocky substrate keeps the water flowing on top,

and the splashing creates wonderful music and

sparkly dazzle in the sunlight.

It was soul-filling to simply sit awhile in the sunshine

on a bench provided by the NH Park Service, and watch

the water and listen. (It is verified emotional therapy.)

Working our way down hill and across a bridge,

we discovered vista after vista of beauty as

the water tumbled. Near the top, at a more level spot,

I found myself in the mood to 'warn' the brook that

even though not apparent, a quickening and

dramatic cascade lay ahead, just around the bend.

The plunge was steep. All along, the damage from

passing winter freeze/thaw and strong winds was

evident as the forest giants had 'failed', become broken

and tumbled into the chasm. 

 Here is one of the steepest and most beautiful portions.

Lots of force as the water falls - and that was why

we had come and why we were entranced!

Our journey was assisted (and lamps filled) as

we took advantage of steps and bridges

and protective fences placed or built by others,

to make the journey more accessible and safe.

Even the ever-reaching root systems rambling

across the surface provided stepping features

that assisted us wanderers to return to the top.

Now vigilant for lessons, I stepped across this seep

making its way downhill toward the main brook.

Here it crossed a fairly level and broad forest gap,

but because the 'path of least resistance' had been

struck previously, the trickle could not now find

any easier meander.

 Our route was not treacherous, but still comfortable

to have the "trail this way" markers there, just in case.

NOTE: there is a rubber slip-on cleat overshoe hanging

on the off-side, picked up after it had been misplaced,

I assume. Does that mean someone had them to use

but decided on this trail at this time of year

they didn't need the improved traction?

 I am always amazed at the tiny seeds from which

these giants grow! Here, Vince holds a few miniature "cones"

evidently dropped from the huge Canadian hemlocks.

 As I watch my footing with my head down

(unlike Vince who is scanning forward for promising pools

in the brook where the fish most likely would be)

I always find surprises. Here, the polished raised design

of the root on the path has the appearance of veins, 

as though this was animal and not vegetable, with 

furry arm reaching deep to hold its place.

 Our final picture from the forest walk is of this cut stump,

photographed by Vince. Amazingly colorful, it made

him think of a renaissance world map.

God's creations are a wonder, even on the inside!

 Two final items that added oil drops to our lamps

this week. Here is a shot of the fleet of mission vehicles 

"in storage" following recent significant departures. 
Poor Elder Warner has worked so hard over the past 

nine months to reduce total vehicles count to match 

what 'headquarters' says we are allowed, based on 

the number of missionaries in our 'complement'.

Then, suddenly, we have ELEVEN surplus (this makes for

convenience and independence for Pres. and Sister Beck,

and for us as well, when we have 'spare' cars to drive).

Another uptick: Vince was just apprised that we will

be receiving 26 new or replacement vehicles in late May

or early June. Translation: new missionaries will be

coming at about that time, too. (Keeping fingers crossed -

Church headquarters believes things will get more normal.)

Second, I understand the regular morning time that 

the pair of cardinals visit the feeder. Left is the female,

right is the male. Because they are feeding this time

together, they were forced into positions where

I could see them better than usual. Always a boost!

As we drove back from Chesterfield, the horizon

offered us a greeting from giant turbine-driving windmills.

Made me think of my view from home in Lehi, Utah!

Our lamps are filled with love, lessons,

warm weather and sunshine, buoyant messages

from missionaries and friends.

Hope you are finding encouragement in small 

but significant things, too. Take care!

In Memorium: Tomie dePaola

So many reasons I didn't know before about HOW MUCH

I needed to be here in New Hampshire! Blessings overflowing!

Within 24 hours of the post last Sunday evening, we stumbled

upon news that 1) Tomie has been living and working near

here in New London, New Hampshire, and 2) that he had

suddenly died following a fall at home (March 30, 2020).

He was 85 years old, and said he couldn't imagine retiring - EVER.

(Learning that he died after a fall opens an old, healing wound.)

Anyone who has read award-winning stories to children in recent

decades will know of Tomie dePaola (pronounced de-Pow-la). 

The book and illustrations that "launched" his career was this one:

Most of this post will be a gesture of respect to Tomie. 

But before that, I wish to record here our recent, very 

different experience with the April 9th transfers. 

First change: NO new incoming missionaries (being kept at home 

until things improve.) Second change: NO large gathering of young 

Elders and Sisters who arrive and re-mix for new assignments.

Instead, with miraculous choreography, the APs released

travel plans in four "waves" at one-hour afternoon intervals

to try to avoid the temptation for too-close association,

or chatting and waiting around. Here their compliance with

"social distancing" shows even with parked mission cars.

 To protect them and US seniors, the transfers occurred

almost completely outside - and it was a very rainy day.

Supplies and missionary mail dissemination happened

from under a canopy. Pre-packed snack bags were placed

inside the open-back mission trailer (though many didn't know).

My duties for *regular transfers (*what does that mean?)

involve ordering in Panera bagels and cream cheese,

procuring fresh fruit, string cheese and packaged

snacks for those traveling in from distances and then 

back out to avoid the need to stop for dinner somewhere.

This image below, was from the pre-COVID-19 transfer

in late February where you can see the happy associating

and tables full of snacks.

This time I put up paper sacks with non-refrigerated

foods so missionaries could grab-n-go.

Change Three: no excursion to Concord, MA to 

the Old North Bridge, or farewell dinner and testimonies

shared across the dinner table at the Concord Inn.

Instead, those departing in this group (1.5 weeks after

the previous early release group) were staying-at-home

between two regular or vacant mission apartments and

the Bedford, NH mission home. In these pictures, we

are saying good-bye from a distance, in the rain.

First to those at the Manchester 4 apartment 

(Sisters Christiansen, Crook, Nye and Ogden), and . . .

 . . . in Bedford (Sisters Bell, Johnson, Drollinger;

Elders White and Cluff).

 This is what the other side of the farewells looked like:

we used our prepared sign (awaiting an Easter delivery)

to express what is usually offered with handshake or hug.

Change Four: no in-person send off, with smiles,

tears (no escaping those), shared stories, etc.

That night, we huddled around computers for a multi-screen

Zoom tele-conference. (In tiny upper right screen are

Sisters Rumsey, Foote and Chesley, housed in Nashua.) 

Not to be with them all was brutal.

One more pre-amble: our Easter Sabbath experiences.

During an Easter week walk to nearby St. Anselm College campus,

Vince and I explored around the monastery grounds,

and came to this beautiful, secluded sculpture of

Christ Ascending at the end of a modified "points of

the Cross" nature walk. Here under sponsorship from 

a different religious tradition, it was touching and

soul-filling for me, in this time of chaos and unease.

A bright spot in our Easter morning was seeing this customized

digital bunny visit, sent from our friend Andrea. So fun!

Easter afternoon, we drove 30 miles east to Epping

and tried to return the favor at Andrea's home,

though Elder Warner is  NOT quite as cute! Nor fuzzy.

Returning to honoring Tomie dePaola: Monday evening's

local news broadcast was followed by the usual Chronicle

show on NHPBS, which showcases local human interest stories.

I was drawn in when I recognized the subject of a re-airing show,

then immediately knew this was an in memorium presentation.

What? Tomie lived that close, and now he's gone?

The realization felt strangely heartbreaking.

Here is a mapquest screen shot showing how really close 

we are to where he lived and worked, in New London.

Of course, the "remembering" show included live recordings of 

Tomie speaking and explaining, full of chuckles and grins

and color! It was instructive, and if you are

interested, you can follow this LINK to watch.

 Feeling strangely bereft, I spent much of Monday evening

reading articles about his recent show openings near here

that celebrate his illustrations, thinking about how his books

has impacted me and my quilts, and learning more about him.

From a NH Homes Magazine article about 6 years ago, come

 images of his studio and home. Wish my work space in Lehi

was as light and airy as this! And organized!

(To read that article, follow this LINK.)

 Strega Nona (1985) was Tomie's first real success and launched

his career and made his life comfortable. Eventually, he wrote

more than 270 books. This illustration (below)

from Strega Nona shows his simple but inviting style. 

Tomie knew from pre-school years that he wanted to draw

and paint and write children's books (and [tap] dance on stage).

His characters include flawed humans, but Tomie's outlook

is one of forgiveness, reconciliation, and hope.

A recent article from a New Yorker writer expresses

her views about how and why his books touch more than

one generation of readers, reaching young and older.

(Find that article by following this LINK.)

My own relationship with his work began like most have

as we (parent and children) discovered and fell in love 

with Strega Nona. Before long, I found "The Quilt Story" 

(co- author Tony Johntson), and it quickly came to mind as I 

developed my "Patchwork Imaginings" quilt collection.

His folk style resonated with me, and I was hooked for life

once I saw his "Abigail" quilt shown full-page inside front cover

as the new quilt, and inside back cover as the aged quilt. 

(This is the "new" quilt illustration.)

 More than one quilter has paid tribute to Tomie

by recreating his quilt painting in fabric and thread.

This is an image of my version.

If you and I were chatting face to face,

I would want to know which dePaola books

were your favorites. Quite a few of them represent

legends or ethnic stories and fables. As the New Yorker writer 

expressed it, his books were "moral, but not moralistic." 

Here is another book that was

included in the "Imaginings" collection. (Wish I had

 access to my quilts to also include them here.)

I love the feeling of blessing from departed loved ones.

 Bright illustrations from this book caught my fancy

and immediately paired itself with a quilt design.

And there are dozens more I love or plan to read soon.

Finally, here are a couple more images harvested from

the published articles showing Tomie's lovely home.

The history of this property, the 200-year-old barn

that was renovated, the new studio additions, etc.

are chronicled in the NH Homes article. We will visit

the area sometime soon, I hope, since it is not too far off

the highway as we travel north to Sharon, VT.

Another view of the courtyard.

Not difficult to see how he could be inspired there.

 Though it has been a week full of contemplation, sadness,

loss, and change, we also have been lifted by abundant

love from so many we care about. We feel the blessings

that accompany health-y news from family and friends,

and from remembering the promise of Easter.

Oil in our lamps continues to be filled to overflowing --

a little like Strega Nona's pasta pot.