Let Me Lift My Voice

       Early yesterday morning Rick and I drove past the Pleasant Grove Cemetary. A scout troup was busy placing flags upon the graves of those who had served in the military.  I was in awe of the number of flags waving in the breeze.  It was as if the flags were encouraging us to remember that many have died - preserving our freedoms.

         

      My mother taught the ‘Constitution’ in Relief Society for years. It was through her studies I came to an early understanding and love for America.  This country is literally a gift from God. Divinely planned and prepared for FREEDOM.  Mother and I would go to the library and select books about some of the founding fathers. We studied the lives of Patrick Henry, Betsey Ross, Paul Revere, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Ben Franklin, Abigal Adams, and many others.  I believe that was the time I fell in love with historical figures and their missions in life.  Equally loved were my ancestors who came to America for freedoms not enjoyed in their homelands.

      While attending Utah State University I was asked to give a talk, “I Am Proud to Be An American”. I remember with great gratitude the preparation and research while writing it, and presenting. To this very day I am proud to be an American.  

     Then I became a performer with the Sounds of Freedom from Brigham Young University, and the Young Ambassadors. 

I was blessed to be chosen as one of six girls and six young men to tour the orient for USO United Service Organizations. (USO) is a private, nonprofit organization that provides morale and recreational services to members of the U.S. military.  It was during three months of entertaining the troups of Korea, Japan, Okinawa, Taiwan, that my love for America grew in greater porportions. 

 I performed for military soldiers on bases large and small. I shall never forget the bullets zinging past the bus as we traveled to a hidden military base on the DMZ of North Korea. It was truly scary and the reality of war was clear, evident and personal. To observe military force first hand, and realize what our soldiers face daily was eye opening. 

      Because of an inner ear infection and exhaustion issues I was forced to experience a brief hospital stay. I was shipped off to Okinawa. That confinement brought home even a greater love of America and those who bravely fight and defend our freedoms. 

I shall never forget the evening when a nurse rushed into my room and yelled, “We need you, and we need you now!” Before I could even comprehend the need she had loaded me into a wheel chair and quickly wheeled me down the hallway while enlighting me of the situation, “We’ve got a soldier, he heard there was a girl from Utah in the hospital. He says ‘I want to talk to the Utah girl.’  I quickly realized that I hadn’t been summoned for a simple chit chat session. 

           “He’s going to die!”  The nurse said as she rolled me into the room and close to his bed. Clearly there was no time for introductions.        

          “Call and tell my Mother that I love her, and that I tried hard to serve my country. Tell my brothers and my little sis that they will be in my prayers.”  I shook my head that I would. It was as if he realized he had but a few moments to express his last wishes--to a Utah girl.  He was barely breathing by then and I knew the nurse was right, as within a moment his breathing stopped and he was gone. The nurse reached over and closed his eyes. That was my first experience with someone dying right before me. I could now put a face on all those ‘unknown soldiers.’  Later that day the nurse brought me his personal contact information. I don’t recall his name now, but  I still can see the look on his face as he faded away from life. 

     When I returned home  two months later I made the promised phone call and expressed to his mother his final wishes and thoughts. I gave her my most accurate recall of the moments, his facial expressions... anything she asked of me. She greatly appreciated my call, but I realized that no words, even his words, could bring the desired comfort.

     For that one week in the hospital I was rolled into many rooms.  I was able to see many soldiers who have paid a great price for freedom. For some of them they will forever suffer. I saw men struggling to itch their toes only to realize they had no feet. Some so disoriented they thought I was their wife. I have watched as men were trying to learn how to eat without hands. While others could no longer could see. Some soldiers so wrapped and gaused as half of their body had been blow away. Imagine their lives - forever changed.  

I was visiting with a young soldier when he recieved a letter from home. He was so excited as he noticed the return address,“It’s from my wife.”  I watched as he quickly pulled the pages from the envelope and began reading it. His expressions instantly changed while he was reading.  Tears welled up in his eyes. His excitement turned to sadness as he offered quietly, “She’s leaving me, she says she can’t live with a cripple.”  I gasped in disbelief. That was such a sad, sad moment. I have pondered that scene in my mind over and over. If only his wife could have been standing in that hospital room as I was, surrounded by five other soldiers who had been rendered ‘crippled for life,’ would she have been so quick to surrender her love, support, because of a missing leg?  

     Because of those experiences with the military, and family histories,  I have a broader sense of sacrifice, life changes and the prices paid for the true value of freedom.  

         I would rather be exposed to the inconveniences attending 

too much liberty than to those attending too small a degree of it. 

~ Thomas Jefferson

We fight not to enslave, but to set a country free, and to make room 

upon the earth for honest men to live in. ~ Thomas Paine

     Reflecting back upon those days as I sang and danced upon stages, or was rolled from room to room in the hospital, I shall long appreciate those men and woman who stepped up for the cause of my freedom, my voice, and my choice.

      Freedom is standing up and declaring that it is a God given 

right for all people. I have seen blood spilt for the cause of it. 

I would rather not see blood spilt at all,  but for those who have shed

          it I give my thanks.” ~ Shauna Brown 

     I’m am thankful and proud to be an American. I state this firmly. None of us can take our rights and freedom lightly.  It has been said that history can repeat itself. If that is the case we must all be aware.  There are more Hitlers, Stalins, Freuds, Marxs and others who are ready to step up and step in with their causes. We must be wise and discerning... or it could be to our demise.  

      One of my favorite educators is Karl G. Maeser, he stated, “I would rather have my child exposed to smallpox, typhus fever, cholera, or other malignant and deadly diseases than to the degrading influence of a corrupt teacher. It is infinitely better to take chances with an ignorant, but pure-minded teacher than with the greatest philosopher who is impure.” 

    So fly your flags high.  Be proud of the stars and stripes. Let us all take a moment to express our love of God, freedom, and the home of the brave.  May you enjoy this sabbath day and the right to worship.

     Love to all,

     Shauna          

Spirit Tapping

by Shauna Brown 

Winston Churchill said, “To every man there comes that special moment when he is figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a special thing unique to him and fitted to his special talent. What a tragedy if that moment finds him unprepared or unqualified for the work which would be his finest hour.”

    I’m sure we all ponder our purposes here on earth. In fact, I have found I continue to ask myself - ‘If I am to be a usuable and ready instrument in the hands of God... what should I be doing?’    

As a young girl of twelve I decided to enter a speech contest. The ultimate wish of my heart was to win a trophy. No one in our family had ever won one. Mother had won numerous awards and prizes for her cooking, writing, sewing. My sister was a talent concert pianist. All of my brothers were talented and venturing into productive careers. I hoped that by winning a trophy I would be noticed for achieving something.  I could even see the golden trophy placed on the double tier table in the front room.  

      You see, being the youngest  of six children and watching all the accomplishments of those ahead of me was-- intimidating.  I wanted to be noticed with some form of accomplishment as well.  

     Mother helped me write the talk for the speech festival.  Parts of it I can still repeat and remember to this very day.  For weeks I practiced, memorized and polished it.  Ultimately I won the competition and my desired trophy.  Mama placed it  upon the table just as I had imagined it would be. 

Now looking back upon that experience I realize that I was following a God-given prompting, or as stated above-- a tapping on the shoulder. At that early point of my life, was when my Heavenly Father wanted me to learn to express myself, gain confidence and be able to stand before people and share. In so doing, it has become such a blessing in my life. I can see where I was divinely lead.

I have been able to look back at other times and see as well when the Lord has given sweet impressions and feelings upon my heart.  I will call this a spirit tapping moment.

Eighteen years ago I was asked to write a play about the Willie and Martin Handcart pioneers.  Because of that spirit tapping, I have  come to realize how the Lord knew those early saints could have a needed and lasting impact and influence upon my life. Their words would be key to my life’s mission and journey.  Those saints have lifted my spirit when it has been heavy. I have even heard their whispering words - ‘fresh courage,’ 'you can do this', 'you can do hard things.'  These were saints who had left loveones, homelands, everything, to pull a wooden handcart across the country in pursuit of religious freedoms as well as facing the unknown. They only had seventeen pounds of food and clothing to live on. None of them had a roof over their heads. Many of those early pioneers have been such an example of faith, and their lives continue to inspire me. I never dreamed that people living nearly two hundred years ago could step into my life and leave such a marked influence.

     Not that long ago I stood by Patience Loader’s gravesite. It’s located five miles from my home. She is one of my best, old, old friends born in 1827. I offered up my prayers of appreciation for her taking the time to write in her journal. Frequently I have read her words.  Her testimony holds a special place in my soul.   It is of little wonder then that because of Patience, Sara Jane, Ephriam, Josiah, Hosea, Elizabeth . . . that music, scripts, books, poetry, have evolved.  That I have shared their stories over and over again.

Each of us will be tapped upon our shoulders, or whispered words will come. It is then we must come to realize that we all have a special calling, or God given need. 

        I’m excited as I look forward to all the possibilities that life offers, and to anticipate the spirit tapping. Hopefully, I will be ready, willing and able. 

My wishes as a young girl of twelve was simply to receive a golden trophy.  Now I understand, and see far more clearly the greater gift.  God is most mindful of each of us. Let us be mindful of Him.    Forever I will be grateful for touching and tapping of my young girl heart.

   Make it a great sabbath day.

Love to all,

Shauna   

Thank Heaven for Mama!

    I don’t know how it all happened in the eternal perspective and creation of life and timing, but I am truly thankful to my Heavenly Father for handpicking such a wonderful mother for me.  My viewpoint of motherhood will differ from my siblings because I was the caboose. Because of that placement I feel so blessed.  I believe with full heart that being the youngest has definite advantages: example, example, example and then some.  I have sweet memories by the hundreds of being with my mother. I was her little, final sidekick and friend. My memories hold  profound moments that have shaped and molded my life. 

  

     Mother said on numerous occasion that her home was a ‘labratory of learning.’ Even though she never went on to college she continued to educate and fill her mind. I considered she had earned her Masters in so many areas. She didn’t seem to shy away from any task. I recall with clearity that she said, 'Shauna, if some one has done it  - so can you.' or 'There is no such word as can't.'   One watching her would realize that she was willing to study or learn from others until she became skilled. She was an excellent seamstress and made all of my clothes. By all rights and compliments she was a master gardner. Mama won countless baking contests. Was a published author of numerous articles. Many people appreciated her inspirational teaching. Little did they know she would spend a good month preparing for every lesson she gave. Fully focused and devoted as a wife and dedicated wife. Mother was the family barber and prided herself in saving the money that would have been charged.  Watching her cut the hair of her sons not only saved money, but it gave her one on one time with her children. 

Mother was the perfect example to me of motherhood. Now mind you, she wasn’t perfect, and I know that, but she was as close to it as I needed. I will treasure my time that I had by her side. Whether she was teaching me to play piano, instructing how make the perfect sewing stitch, plant the peas, can the peaches, write a poem, or polish off a talk. One knew she was keenly focuses on being “mother.”  

I was blessed as I listened to her read her written articles long before submitting them. Sometimes I thought she wrote them just because I needed to hear the words, without them coming directly from her lips-- it worked.       

For me, mother was my personal “life coach.”  I smile as I reflect upon the hours spent behind the highback chair working with me on my speeches. ‘Polish makes perfect,’ she would say. It didn’t matter if I was the little twelve year old, or the twenty year old who was giving a talk. She could render the best direction, the best suggestions.  Now mind you, I have had at least twenty speech and drama teachers, but mother was the best of them all.

    Many people pay big money to have a Life coach, clearly she was mine. A mentor, cheerleader, model, example, motivational... Mother was just what I needed. Let me share a moment of light. I wanted to try out for cheerleader at Irving Jr. High. Mother said she had the perfect cheer--no one would know it. I was surprised as she described for me  that she had once upon a time been a cheer leader on the field. I wasn’t quite ready as she began to demonstrate the cheer she used in high school. A bit dated for sure, but it will be forever embedded in my mind as I watched mama dance around the front room-- in a dress, yelling out:

        Your pep!  Your pep!

       You’ve got it - Now keep it!

       Dog-gone ya don’t loose it!

       Your pep!  You’re pep! 

      “Don’t loose it.” - But I miss her. Just the thought of her makes the tears arrive. She would smile now saying, ‘Tears make you beautiful.’ But she would be pleased to know that she is remembered. Oh,  I miss her soothing words of comfort, strong words of faith and support. I miss her laughter. I miss our conversations - daily they were. I miss her touch, her smile, the way she would look into my eyes. [ because they reminded her of Daddy’s ].  She always had answers or knew how to fix everything. She was incredible! I pray she knows how grateful I am for her life within my heart. 

    I believe mother did so many things well, but most of all  -- top of the list: I am thankful she instilled within me with the knowledge that God is real, and very interested--personally interested in our lives. Mother lived a life drenched in the spirit of faith.  I pause as I think of the profound enduring touches she has left for many. I watched her face cancer, becoming a widow, heart challenges, age, but through it all I heard her testify: ‘You must have unwavering faith.’  ‘Don’t ever give up on the Lord.’ ‘Trust in the Lord.’  ..and there just isn’t space enough to share her favorite scriptures.---But to me, she became scripture. 

      I think of the time just before she turned 80. We were planning  a celebration for her birthday at the Lion House in Salt Lake City. I was putting together a little booklet, a tribute to her. I wanted  her to share her personal testimony of Jesus Christ. I gave her the assignment to write it down so that it could be part of the booklet.  If it took Mama a month to prepare a lesson, just imagine what it would be to have her write her feelings about the gospel.  Prior to publishing it I sat down with her as she asked, “Could you listen to it and let me know if I say it right.’ 

    It was like I was young again. It was a sweet spiritual moment to sit across the room and listen to her reveal her testimony within the written word. We cried together as truth was born within our living room. 

    Mother later called me on the phone and inquired, ‘Shauna, can you add this to my testimony?’  Followed by other days with the same request. Her testimony continued to grow and so I added more paragraphs.

     I hope that is how it will be with me-- a growing testimony until I touch heaven.

      So, you can see why I thank heaven for my mother. She instilled with in me the want of a family. To believe and see God in all things. She gave me the desire to serve, to care, to learn, to live by the spirit. She showed me how to enjoy and embrace the good. 

She was my personal coach and fulltime cheerleader. Who continues to influence me to be a ready usuable instrument in the hand of the Lord.       

       May we each give a cheer to all mothers!  

Your PEP!  Your PEP !=   [ Personal Eternal Perspective] 

Don’t loose it!

        Have a great sabbath day - and Mother’s Day!!! 

Feel the hug! and smell the violets!

Shauna  

   Remembering

     Rick and I were blessed to get-a-way for the weekend. We haven’t been anywhere for so long. It was good just to have space to think without someone calling, texting or needing the Bishop. We didn’t go to any place exotic. Sometimes one doesn’t need to go very far to find peace, and joy in just being together. I even took of a day of work. That says a lot at the moment. It was needed and so enjoyable. 

     Of course we had way too many things written down that we wanted to accomplish.True to tradition we found ourselves checking off a few on the list.  One item, not even represented on our list came to be a central focus for my thoughts. My children won’t be surprised that Rick and I found ourselves walking through a cemetary. I love cemetaries.  I don’t know how or when it started. Perchance I learned to appreciate the value of lives because my mother would nightly  read the obituaries in the newspaper. Many times she would even underline items that stood out and inspired her. I have found cemetaries to be a place of peace, upliftment and validation.  I have come to appreciate the unspoken testament, the words erased by wind and time,pictures of loved ones faded by the years. Countless stuffed toys matted and dirty, yet placed with tender care. Purpose within each life continues as I ponder their eternal journey. Often on family vacations we have found ourselves venturing through cementaries from the west coast to the east. I will long treasure my walk through one of the most beautiful: Mt. Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Mass. or Sleepy Hollow in New York. Many famous writers and historical characters are laid to rest there. Oliver W. Holmes, Doretha Dix, Henry W. Longfellow, to name just a few. Of course one naturally holds a reverance while in Arlington National Cemetary thinking of all those who have given their lives for the freedom of this country.  Long will my children remember the night we walked through Anaconda cemetary in Montana. It would be the perfect location for a Halloween movie for sure.  Many wealthy miners are buried there. Perhaps this cemetary isn't as famous as the pyramids, but much expense was given to magnificient headstones, gold leafing, rod iron gates and fences. All hoping for remembrance and a purpose driven life. 

          I can’t imagine how many cemetaries we have been to, but enough to know the differences in culture, time, beliefs and the value of a life. Frequently I want to know of stories behind the headstone.  Let me give you an example.  Rick and came across five little headstones all in a row. On two of the headstones it described that two sets of twins had been born. Semour and Spencer Allen had lived for two months, the other set of twins Rachel and Richard only lived a day. Three other headstones reflected further heart ache as one little child lived for two years, and the remaining one died after living only three days.  Instantly my heart felt grief for the parents who had, I’m sure anticipated the arrival of a newborn.  For that couple, their dreams, hopes had not been realized. I took a picture to capture that tender moment. I must never take for granted the six sweet gifts that Rick and I have welcomed into our hearts. Miracle to count over and over again.

     I have found cemetaries to be a sacred sanctuary to ponder the purpose of each life. As I have walked through years of memorial thoughts I have come to appreciate how even in death many headstones have touched my life, inspired my thoughts and given me new hope and direction. 

    I remember as if it was yesterday when mother would gather up old quart canning jars and fill them full of fresh cut pink and red peonies, lavendar lilacs, yellow iris and daisies from our yard. Then we would pile in the car as a family and travel to all the cemetaries where our ancestors are buried. At each grave time was given for sharing and reflection. We dusted and cleaned off the headstones and placed our offerings of remembrance. Somehow, within my childhood heart was generated the roots of love, reason for family, and perhaps my cemetary ventures.  

      I remember one sweet visit to my Father’s grave one memorial weekend.  One of our family members had placed several stocks of rubarb on daddy’s grave.  Just the site of the rubarb made me smile, and caused me to reflect upon the many times daddy would slice off a piece of rubarb from the garden and then sprinkle it with salt. He would share a piece with me and together we would enjoy the tartness as we smiled through puckering lips and giggles.  Sweet, sweet memories. I wonder what my children will place upon my grave? Perhaps bubbles, balloons, yellow ribbons, daisies or twirling windmills. 

Let’s not think of that now... I don’t even want to go there. There is so much to do and so little time. 

On my weekend list I wrote: take a bubble bath and read a book. I can check both off. Return to Tomorrow, by George G. Ritchie. He shared his near death experience. It was a most interesting read and very much parallels what I feel about death and being in the presence of Jesus Christ.  In the book,  young George is asked, by Jesus: “What did you do with your life?” 

 ... like everything else proceeding from Him it had to do with love. Have you loved others as I am loving you? Totally, unconditionally?” 

       My weekend seemed to be framed with thoughts of the other side of heaven, as even one of the movies we watched was  Night in Rodanthe, which focused upon losing a loved one.  

     I thought of my parents, grandparents and ancestors who have played a significant part in my inherited gene pool. It caused me to focus as well upon the divinity held within each of us.  I feel so blessed in having been raised in a loving, Christ centered home. I was surrounded by great examples in not only parenting, but with siblings who still continue to strengthn and enrich my life.

I don’t know what will be written on my headstone. Perhaps I will be twinkled.  But whatever happens I pray that I will live true to what I was sent here to do. 

        

    I pray that each day I will focus my life in such a way that I will be a ready and usable instrument in the hand of God. 

    Enjoy the sabbath.  

        Love to all,

        Shauna 

Have a sunshine day. . . with a cherry on top!