Missionary Stocking

I made these last year for my missionary and his native companion.   I then filled them and sent them on.  I know some of you have already sent your packages, but these were kind of fun.  They aren't perfect as I made up the pattern myself.  Wondering whether I should send a new set this year?

Missionary Mom Necklace

I just received my missionary mom necklace I ordered.  I think they are kind of fun.  I put all three of my missionaries on.  She also has a bike you can use instead of a tie and several colors of ties.  If you are interested email me and let me know and I'll forward you her information.  No - I'm not trying to promote anything - I don't even know this sister, I just saw the above necklace I thought I would like one.  I asked her if it would be alright to give out her info and she said yes.

My email klvrjones@yahoo.com

11 tips for Successful Missionaries

11 can't-miss tips for successful LDS missionaries

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By Jason F. Wright, For the Deseret News

Published: Tuesday, Aug. 13 2013 11:08 a.m. MDT

Nearly a year has passed since President Thomas S. Monson of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints announced the historic change to the church’s missionary program. It’s become known colloquially as the “age change” — meaning that worthy young men are eligible to serve at the age of 18 instead of 19 and after graduating from high school. Young women are now invited to serve at 19 instead of 21.

This change has produced a remarkable surge in missionaries entering the field. The LDS Church estimates there will be about 80,000 missionaries serving by October. Before the announcement, there were about 54,000 missionaries.

This wave of willingness to tune out the world and serve the Lord as his full-time representative is inspiring. Witnessing these young men and women flood the field reminds me of my own mission to Brazil many years ago. My time there remains among my most treasured experiences and chief accomplishments. If I could return today, I would.

While serving as a young man — and later teaching for a short time at the Mission Training Center in Provo, and even now having Mormon missionaries into my home as often as possible and working with them at every opportunity — I’ve learned a few things about the differences between happy, successful missionaries and the unpleasant alternatives.

I call them my 11 can’t-miss tips for successful missionaries.

Be obedient — period

1. Be obedient — period. Following mission rules brings blessings you cannot fathom until you are immersed in obedience. Learn the rules and follow them.

Don't judge

2. Don’t judge. At times, you will feel tempted to judge other missionaries and their efforts. Remember, your skills and natural abilities may be different than those you serve with. Their best effort doesn’t need to be good enough for you; it needs to be good enough for the Lord.

Be obedient every minute of every day

3. Be obedient every minute of every day. You are unlikely to meet returned missionaries who were obedient but still regret their missions. But you will certainly encounter others who were never consistently obedient and never found the promised success and happiness. Being obedient doesn't mean you won't have difficult days, but it does mean more much success and happiness than otherwise.

Serve your companions

4. Serve your companions. Iron their shirts, make their beds and shine their shoes. If you’re blessed to be assigned a more challenging personality or someone who’s struggling, serve them even more.

Be obedient — even in the small things

5. Be obedient — even in the small things. Obedience is the only frequency that the Spirit operates in. Be sure you’re dialed in every time you walk out your front door to share the gospel.

Give praise

6. Give praise. Tell your companions, especially the challenging ones, that you think they're great missionaries and, eventually, they will be. At some point you will inevitably be assigned the companion with the “reputation.” Let them know you’ve only heard terrific things about them and offer a clean slate. When your mission is complete, be the one who says every single companion he had was amazing.

Be obedient

7. Be obedient. You will make mistakes and grow better each day at effectively teaching the gospel. But while you can't be perfect in all things, you can be perfectly obedient.

Love

8. Love. Love those you teach with all your heart, even the ones who ultimately reject the message. You will plant seeds that may not be harvested for months or years by others who will come after. But you'll harvest some that were planted by missionaries now home, married and gray.

Exercise faith

9. Exercise faith that obedience leads to greater success. If you have faith in this principle, you will see it unfold in miraculous ways.

Love each and every day

10. Love each and every day. Young missionaries only get this opportunity to serve 24/7. Leave nothing behind and don't regret a single day.

Be yourself

11. Be yourself! Smile! Laugh! Have fun! Sometimes elders and sisters think that obedience and the black name tag means you’re required to shelf your personality and become ultra serious. The Lord doesn’t want us to be different people — he wants us to be better versions of ourselves.

My First Drill

I came across this paper I wrote about 5 years ago.  I don't know if I ever posted it - I don't believe so.  I wish I was better at journallng, but would like my children and grandchildren to know a little about me and my life, so I'm inserting it here, to be recorded as part of my journal.  One of these days I'll catch up on posts as well.  It has been a busy year for me working full-time as a long-term 4th grade teacher; which looks like it will continue through the end of the school year.Trevor is doing well on his mission and his language seems to be coming right along after 4 months.  Spencer is getting closer and closer to graduation in June and Ken and I are closer to becoming empty nesters - not sure if I'm happy or sad about that  (a little of both).  Mostly it will just be a new adventure and adjustment in our life that we will weather together.

MY FIRST DRILL

I grew up in a country home.  Even though my dad was considered a blue-collar worker, we lived in a farming community.  My dad was the Agricultural teacher at the high school.  He taught young men how to fix cars, how to build houses, how to grow vegetables, and how to raise and slaughter animals for food.  After work we would feed the horse and pigs in our backyard.  Sometimes we went to the fields my dad tended.  My siblings and I experienced lots of different things in our small, religious farming community of 300 people.  It seemed to me my dad could do anything.  He was a gruff but loving man.  He was a big man, but he was fast.  My brothers learned real quick that big did not mean slow.  My dad taught us to race. The annual 4^th of July races were one of the highlights of the year.  We practiced and trained for those races.  We were proud to be recipients of the 1^st place "quarter" year after year.  We enjoyed a carefree childhood of roaming the streets, swimming in “The Falls”, playing hide-n-seek with the neighborhood kids, and of course learning how to work.

            When I was eight years old life drastically changed.  My dad decided it was time to get his Doctorate of Education.  He packed up our family and moved us across country from Nevada to Ohio.  Life was different in the city.  We had to get use to lots of new things.  The closest church was 30 minutes away.  My siblings and I were the only members of our religion in our school.  We were exposed to a different world.  It was difficult being away from friends and family, but we persevered.  My dad was still a country boy.  One day he brought home a bunch of chickens to be killed, plucked and cleaned.  It was quite a sight all those chickens running around with their heads cut off and my little brothers chasing after them.  We made new friends and life went on.  Soon two years was up and my dad graduated.  It was time to move back west.  Hooray - aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents – time to go home. 

We went back to our little country town, but that only lasted a few weeks.  My dad found a job in the city.  We bought a house and moved.  When we registered for school we learned I would be bussed across town.  Our city was beginning a new integration program.  The black kids would be bussed across to the mostly white side of town for 1^st through 5^th grade and the white kids would be bussed to special 6^th grade centers on the west side of town.  Gone were the carefree days of my younger years.  Although I had friends of all colors I now knew about racism, a new concept for me.

            Life continued to change in the city; more people, more opportunities.  High school brought challenges and a few successes.  My dad was still my hero.  I remember for one youth activity he cooked a whole pig with eyeballs and all.  It seemed all the kids liked my dad.  My friends and I would wait on the outskirts of gatherings so that when it was time to divide into cars we could be the first to my dad’s car.

            I remember one day when I was in high school and was a little rebellious, my dad pulled me aside and with tears in his eyes he told me he was worried that my mom would have a nervous breakdown and asked me to be more kind and patient with her.  My parents never fought.  They were not very affectionate in front of us, but we knew they loved each other a great deal.

            I learned many things from my dad about love, service and hard work.  My dad was hardly ever sick.  He hardly ever sat and watched television.  He was a do-er.  Occasionally my mom would tell me you’re just like your dad.  I thought this was a great compliment.

            My first few months away at college were difficult.  I was dealing with a lot of personal stuff, finding out college was harder than I expected, and a little homesickness as well.  One week the end of October my mom called to say my dad was sick and they took him to the hospital.  Over the next few days he continued to get worse and they put him in intensive care.  The doctors could not figure out what was wrong.  Miraculously he started to improve and they thought he would be home by the end of the week.  I knew someone going home that weekend so I decided to go home to help out with my younger brothers while my mom was at the hospital.  I saw my dad on Saturday and he looked good.  Sunday morning before church I stopped by to see him.  He didn’t look well and he was having a difficult time.  As I left he called out to me, “I love you, Vera”.  This was very unusual for him to say.  It meant a lot to me.  I went home and took my younger brothers to church, then went home and made dinner.  As we sat down to eat I heard my brother come in and I turned around, saw his face, and I knew.  MY DAD WAS GONE!

            Life was different without my dad.  There were many difficult days the first few years.  We all learned to go on and we drew closer together as a family.

            Soon I married a great man, but he was a city boy – not the country boy I was use to.  I tried to instill in him a desire to be a fix-it man like my dad, but it just didn’t work.  One day I said to a friend I wish my husband would let me buy him tools, but he just doesn’t want them.  A few months later on my birthday I opened a beautiful gift to find – my drill!  I realized that I was the one who wanted tools, why couldn’t I learn to use them, so I did.  I now have several kinds of saws, a router, many other tools, and of course my first drill.  I don’t think my friend realized that the gift she was giving me would mean so much, but I love tools.  It let me know that I can do whatever I want to do and in some small ways it helps me to know that I’m still daddy’s girl.