Remember You Are A Gift- 

     by Shauna V. Brown 

     Recently Rick and I had the sweet experience of caring for Brittany and Steve Helm’s children for four days: Noah 7, Reed 5, Jamison 3, and Paige 1.  
    One of my favorite moments was when young Jamison would always volunteer to pray-- at every prayer time.   I was touched as each time Jamison would ask the Lord to bless and protect not only his parents, but everyone else that he knew. Bless the chickens so they will lay more eggs. Bless the sun. Bless Sunny and Papa, Bless Ruby. Bless Tootsie and Grandpa B, Bless Noah and his BB game today. Bless my cut . . . .
        His prayers turned my mind back to those prayers that my young children had offered. Some with similar, long and lengthy requests. How eager they were to be called upon to render their words to the Lord.
         I often think back to one of my favorite times of the day. I truly loved preparing for nighttime in the Sunshine Factory. Anticipated bubble baths, fluffy pajamas, and cuddle time with each of my children. That was a blessing all by itself.
         "Stories read

           Prayers said.

           Hug and a kiss-before bed." svb 
     Then, while tucking them in Rick or I would ask a quick little question before the goodnight kiss, “Who loves you?” 

     At that point they would respond..
       “Heavenly Father - Jesus - Mommy-Daddy- Grandma-- . . . and down the family tree.
       Hopefully, each of my children will remember those moments and prayers where we tried to instill within them,who they really are --a  child of God. Often we expressed that they were a gift from God. How blessed we felt to have them as a member of our family, who loved and wanted them.
       Now, I watch as my own children are enjoying and experiencing parenthood for themselves. It makes my heart rejoice to see the ripple effect of love and sunshine.  

     President Gordon B. Hinckley shared:
        “Imagine how our own families, let alone the world, would change if we vowed to keep faith with one another, strengthen one another, look for and accentuate the virtues in one another, and speak graciously concerning one another. Imagine the cumulative effect if we treated each other with respect and acceptance, if we willingly provided support. Such interactions practiced on a small scale would surely have a rippling effect throughout our homes and communities and, eventually, society at large.”  
Gordon B. Hinckley, Standing for Something: 10 Neglected Virtues That Will Heal Our Hearts and Homes    

        So this day I thank my Father in Heaven for children, “perfectly picked for me, as well as the rest of the Brown’s Sunshine Factory. Grateful that each one of them are striving to lift and love one another.  I love knowing that their best friends are their family.
        A good friend of mine made a chilling statement one day while visiting her. She said that her father had never told her that he loved her. In fact, as he lay in a hospital bed (suffered a heart attack) she inquired of him if he loved her. In frustration with his delay in answer   She then said, “Father, If I simply say, 'Rhonda, I love you.’  Then just shake your head if you do love me.’ 

     Now note, being in the hospital had nothing to do with his speech. He could talk if he wanted to. Then Rhonda continued, "I’m just grateful that he shook his head and then answered, 'yes.'  Clearly it was difficult for him to express love to me."
        Imagine it, Rhonda was in her mid forties before she ever heard him express his love for her - and yet it had to be induced.
        If I could stand on the roof top and yell aloud to all the world, I would proclaim of God’s love for me and everyone. That he knows us personally, cares about us personally. Answers our personal prayers, and is more than excited to express his love daily and openly.  We just have to look for it. It comes in all shapes and sizes, words, squeezes and ripples of goodness.
        When Noah came into the kitchen holding an egg from the chicken coop--freshly laid,  I smiled with the miracle of it.  Simple blessing! Simple gifts.  Look around, look up, and rejoice in the miracle of life and God’s goodness....See the good in one another and then go out and cause a bit of a ripple yourself.
        Smile more! Serve more! Speak up and give a compliment. Tell someone you love them. 

See the good. Remember who loves you... and pass it on! 

   Have a great Sabbath!

 
    Love Shauna

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

             Dream Daddy

          I can almost hear my Father’s daily announcement, “It’s another beautiful morning!” While opening the kitchen window and breathing in another new day. Equally as expressive was his frequent invitations, “Come see this incredible sunset!” His outlook on life was always one of being positive. I guess I should express my appreciation at this very moment for the part  and key role he played in my life. He truly was a happy father, and made those around him realize the gift of a family.  Happy Fathers Day Daddy!

 Clyde LaVar Van Wagenen, called fondly by some "CL, Van, Mr. Van, Bishop, Daddy, Father, Sweetheart", was a man who taught, exampled, led, inspired those around him.   I could write pages upon pages about my Father. He was a gift, a special God given gift for me. 

     Years ago I had a very vivid dream I would like to share on this Father's Day. The dream so real that upon my waking I found I my pillow wet from tears. 

Just how far away is heaven? For that night I stepped within the realms of it, and saw my Father once again. It had been years since his passing. I was so excited to see him. He was walking briskly with a great concourse of people. It wasn’t difficult to see him, as his once jaunty walk was instantly recognizable. He was no longer was held back by Parkinsons. I ran to catch up. It had been such a long time.   “Daddy!” 

He smiled, nodded his head in recognition, then said, “So little time Shauna,” but he continued to walk. He seemed so focused, business like and couldn’t allow any distraction.  It was true, Daddy had always been an excellent businessman, and I fondly remembered how many people would tell me what an outstanding man he was.   “Mr. Van is the best boss anyone could have.”  “If you need something done, and something done well, just ask Mr. Van.” “He was my Bishop, and my favorite one.”   “I love your father, he always treats others so kindly.”

      So here I was following after the man I had known for years as ‘Daddy’...

 Oh, how I wanted to hug him and let him know of my love. However, in my dream that didn’t happen. I followed him in and out of buildings, up and down stairs. There were no golden highways or cobble stones, and most of the buildings were made of brick. What ? No marbled walls--gold or crystallized imagination? This was’wasn't the heaven I have dreamed of.  Mansions, I didn’t see any. But what I learned within those moments has caused me to ponder upon it frequently.  

      Daddy took me into a room. I quickly discovered it to be his office. It was small in comparison to the one he once had on earth.  It was evident that Daddy didn’t have any personal secretaries. He invited me to sit down. I was surprised to see the simple surroundings. There were no pictures on the walls. No digital devices of any kind. I thought for sure heaven would be more high tech. Yet, there was definitely a warmth I felt within.  

     My interest was then drawn to a wall where a large, antique, secretary stood. The kind of desk that has lots of cubbyholes and spaces, small drawers and such. It rose to be within a foot of the ceiling. It was ornately carved and crafted. Of interest were the compartments and spaces which were filled with envelopes. Some of the envelopes were filled and plump, while others looked seemingly flat.

I asked Daddy, “What do you do here in heaven?”  His reply was simple,“There is so little time Shauna.”

 I noticed that his desk was very organized. His fountain pen positioned directly by a stack of blank pieces of paper. I recall seeing that he had written a few words upon the top of one. Seeing my gaze caused him to fold it and slip it into an envelope on the third level.  (They must have secrets in heaven)

    “So little time,”  He reaffirmed again. Then he shared with me in his humble manner that he was a steward over our family, “I am to record what you do. Not just you Shauna, but all our family line and members.”  By all indications and observations he was tracking and noting our earthly performance. His job was to return and report of the experiences and use of our time. That was a sobering thought for me. Instantly I wanted to see my envelope. But even before I could speak, Daddy was up and moving out of the room. It was quickly apparent that there could be no hesitation and I quickly followed.  

As I was trying to keep up with him I went to push a door open. Unknowingly, I took my eyes off of my Father and my dream ended , as well as my moments with him.  I remember that I cried, and it wasn’t just in my dream.     

Wouldn’t we all love to see our personal envelopes? See those acts that are considered of most worth and value to the eternal perspective of life and time.  Would there be descriptions concerning our relationships, our example to others? Would we be described in glowing terms?  Would there be papers that would cause regrets or sorrows?  Would we be true to our divine nature?  Would there be moments  written where we had fallen short of our potential?

My Father kept saying, “So little time.” What did he mean? 

‘So little time’-- to become, to do, to believe, to give, to learn and know? Perhaps it should cause us to review and discover the truths within the saying by Goethe: “Things that matter most, should never be at the mercy of things that matter least.” 

    My Father was a great man, an exemplary man of God and mankind. He honored his home, his wife, loved his children. Daddy sought with great dedication to lead others to Christ. I wish I could write his notes and fill his envelope!

     Regardless of the true meaning of that dream I am grateful for it. Today more than ever before the reality of life is fragile and can never be measured by the ticking of the clock. The sunrises and the sunsets are far more appreciated by me today. 'It's a beautiful day', and my oh my, the sunsets are vivid in testimony of the true nature of God. Rejoice in our Father who art in Heaven, for each of us are HIS children.

      In my quiet, pondering moments  I think upon my envelope within Daddy's desk.  Is it bad to want to peek within? Will it be worthy of note.  I guess I'll leave the answer up to Daddy.

Enjoy Your Sabbath.

Love to you all

        Shauna

     "Hold On Shauna, Hold On!"

     by Shauna V. Brown

     For years and years my family attended the annual ward Lagoon day. Pretty much it was a time for families to enjoy the discounted entrance price and give-aways.We all enjoyed the fun house and all the whirly rides, cotton candy, and especially the old rickity roller coaster. Lagoon’s famous wooden roller coaster “Roller Coaster - Coaster” was designed by John Miller of Coney Island fame. The coaster was constructed in 1921. It is the 7th oldest roller Coaster in the world and the oldest roller coaster in the Western United States.   

    So here’s my story for today. Years ago my mother shared with me her first experience riding on the now world famous roller coaster - coaster.  It so terrified her that she said she nearly wore out her kid gloves (Gripping it so tightly). As she told  the story it was easy to visualize her fears and imagine her vocal pleading with her Heavenly Father to return her ‘safely.’  She shared how she  made a promise with God that she would never ride that coaster again. In all my growing up I never saw her ride it. To all my knowledge she was true to her word and promise.

   When my mother was eighty Rick and I invited her to go with us and our family to Lagoon.  Even when our young children tried to coax her to riding the wooden coaster, she issued, ‘I promised I would never ride it again.’  

     Mother and I slid onto the bench on the ferris wheel . She was quick to point out how Lagoon had changed over the years.  Where some of the old rides had been located, how the area had been a lagoon with water. There had once been a fire and most of the park had been destroyed. They had worked hard to save the Merry-go-round. If her memory held right she thought it was around 1950.That is when the roller coaster was painted white - because of the smoke and fire damage. 

      I showed her some of the new rides that the children loved, the Boomerange, Colossus, and we observed from our vantage point plenty of people enjoying them. We could hear screams of delight and those of sudden fear.  I asked,“Wanna go on the ‘Jet Star’  with me, almost in jest. Her response was quite surprising. 

  “Sure!” 

I kept thinking to myself - this ride has got to be twice as scary as the old roller coaster. I thought she wouldn’t ride it. But equally as true to her word- we went. We stood in line and waited for our turn. It wasn’t difficult to observe the quick dips, turns and accelerations. We could even see the fear on the faces as they screamed past us, as rolling wheels clanked and coaster cars zoomed.

    I was almost ready for her to chicken out, but to my surprise she stepped in the car bucket.  I fit snuggly infront of her.  I can still hear her scream in my ears and feel her belly jiggle as she coached me loudly, “Hold on Shauna --Hold on!” 

We banked, rolled and looped and felt the intense G- force. Her hands were firmly gripping the side of the car. "Hold on Shauna, hold on." There is something that naturally induces one to laughter, and by the end of the ride we were both laughing so hard that neither one of us could get out of the cockpit.  We both tried our best to get out, each taking a turn. But somehow in all the zigging accelerations, and gravity, we were stuck. 

People in the line waiting were losing their patience with the white haired, eighty year old woman and her forty year old daughter who remained seated and holding up the ride. Despite all, we continued to laugh at our predicament.            

The attendent quickly extended his hand, “Let me help you out!” He couldn’t do it and motioned for another young man to come and help. Talk about embarrassment. Mother answered, “ I can’t get out,” she grinned, “I’m stuck.”  With a push and pull and the assistance on both sides of the car we were able to finally get off the ride -- red faced, but giggling all the way. 

Then I asked her the question, “Did you brake your promise to God about riding on a roller coaster?”

      “I promised that I wouldn’t ride on that old wooden roller coaster," she said pointing to the old rickety wooden one, “but boy didn't we have a fun ride?”

      That is a treasure of a memory for me. I don’t believe Mama ever did ride another roller coaster in her lifetime. But the key element of this story are the words mother extended in loud tones over and over through the ups and downs, tight curves and sudden drops.  “Hold on Shauna, Hold on.”

       Isn’t that what it is all about---  Holding on to life and life’s experiences?  There are those times that can literally take your breath away. Moments when a sudden giggle errupts out of no where, only to make you smile. There are times when you think you have run out of track and no where else to go, only to discover there is hand reaching out to lift you. There are guaranteed ups and downs to give you the ride of a lifetime. I know there are moments when we all wish to get off the hectic, frightening, unknown, seemingly never ending ride and toss all the tickets back. 

    I have long admired Corrie Ten Boom who said it best: 

When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark,

  you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. 

You sit still and trust the engineer. 

    All right, so it took a couple of men to pry me and my mother out of the vehicle. I’m sure she is giggling on the other side...with the thought of it still to this day. There was a great sense of relief felt when we didn’t have to rely on the use of a blowtorch or the jaws- of -life. We think we probably would have made the Deseret News for sure. It was so funny.  

    The Beatles wrote the song: 

   He’s got a ticket to ride...and so do we.  It’s only good for one ride on earth. So we must all learn to trust in the Lord.  Lean on the Lord, and understand He knows the curves, the ups and downs as well as the contrary forces.  I have listened and heard the same words as Mama used that day at Lagoon, “Hold on Shauna, hold on.”

Enjoy your sabbath!

Love Shauna

COLOR ME YELLOW!

by Shauna Brown 

Recently I was asked by one of my grandchildren, “Sunny, what’s your favorite color?”  I instantly thought of a crayon box and all the colors contained. As a child I loved the large box of 72 colors. It was an anticipated, traditional gift that I looked forward to each Christmas. I had a few favorite colors then, and they were the ones that wore down and broke quickly, usually the yellow ones.  

      Can you imagine what it would be like without a touch of yellow in life?  Yellow butter, yellow corn, yellow bananas, daffodils, cheese, omlets, lemons, bumblebees, pineapples, pears, banana squash, school pencils, school buses, the large yellow “M” arche , butterflies, the bright sun, cats eye marbles, yellow brick roads, sunrises and sunsets?    

        This past Friday I realized that yellow triggers and touches off a spark of emotion within the center of my soul. I receive a large bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers. Now I won’t cry over butter or bananas, but sunflowers caused a stirr of delight to dance, and tears to flow.  For hours after I pondered the effect it had within. 

What would we all do without that spark of yellow brightness in our lives?  I don’t know for sure, but I believe I fell in love with ‘yellow’ years ago, when I was just a little girl.  I loved our beautiful backyard. It was my secret garden of sorts. It was defined by Baskets of gold, pansies, larkspurs, daffodils, poppies, peonies, violets, ferns, iris, daisies, and varieties mother knew by name. I spent a lot of my childhood time there. 

Our yard and garden contrasted greatly to the adjacent “prison field.” For those who can’t recall, my childhood home bordered on the Utah State Prison in Sugar House.  I remember my Mother pointing out to me on a few occasions,  “See the difference Shauna. Beautiful gardens to bring enjoyment and peace, contrasted by those imprisoned  and surrounded by weeds and sagebrush. Prisoners who long to smell a rose, or touch our daffodils. Locked up behind bars, oh, can you imagine how they long to tickle their toes in grass.”  I felt sorry for them, and even prayed for them. They couldn’t observe the bumble bees dancing from flower to flower. Or watch the humming birds who thrived upon our honeysuckle bush attached to our clothes line post. 

      Oh, how I appreciate those memories as mama and daddy were so key to teaching the important things within my life. I guess one could easily say they pioneered the potentials within my soul.  Mother was quick to point out all the possibilities, capabilities, and taught me those things which could bring me everlasting joy. 

     When I was a young girl I would tag-a-long, with my older brothers into the “prison field,” it was the perfect place for discovery.  There were tons of red ant beds, grasshoppers, pheasants, gophers, field mice and black shinny stink bugs who would pump up their bottoms and send us scurrying on our way. Then there was the vast assortment of weeds, obnoxious burrs, and thistles which always got stuck in our socks. It was truly a field of contrasts. But even in that prison field there, for my enjoyment and wonder were freely growing sunflowers.  Perhaps that is where my love of yellow truly blossomed. 

Then when I became a ‘Beehive’ in the Young Womens program I was asked to select a flower that reflected me and would represent my personal emblem. Just that week at school I had learned about sunflowers. I was fascinated to hear that their  blossoms daily followed the light from the sun. I set forth to discover the truth of it for myself. I remember watching the reality of it on a Saturday and it was true. This phenomena is called ‘heliotropism’ or sun-tracking. I learned, when the water accumulates on the shady side of the stem, there is a hydraulic system that starts to work. As the pressure builds up, it forces the head of the sunflower to follow toward the light. This process provides enough energy and force to move the head of the sunflower in a 180-degree arc. Amazing! I love the thought and still continue to hope that the sunflower represent me as I continue to seek the light.  The more I studied about sunflowers I sadly learned that once the sunflower reaches maturity it no longer needs to follow the light.  Wow!  Doesn’t that give pause and reason to ponder? 

  Could I have possibly been influenced while living in the Sunshine Factory for the past forty years? The fact is we could have called  it the Rainbow Factory as well. Or we could have chugged along on the Success Express, or lived in the Motivation Station, or even the Brown’s Paper Sack.  I’m glad Rick and I selected the Sunshine Factory as a family theme. Thankful for the additional rays. I do love the color yellow, and girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, snowflakes. . .    

Yet, after all these years, since I was that young Beehive girl of twelve, I find myself wanting more and seeking more frequently the light. Not for the cause of becoming a tan beauty, but because I need to feel the warmth, the security, the energy, the spirit, the power of God for myself every day.         

 Just this morning I read a thought by the famous author, Willa Cather,  I found it most interesting.“The new country lay open before me: there were no fences in those days, and I could choose my own way over the grass uplands, trusting the pony to get me home again. Sometimes I followed the sunflower-bordered roads. Fuchs told me that the sunflowers were introduced into that country by the Mormons; that at the time of the persecution when they left Missouri and struck out into the wilderness to find a place where they could worship God in their own way, the members of the first exploring party, crossing the plains to Utah, scattered sunflower seeds as they went. The next summer, when the long trains of wagons came through with all the women and children, they had a sunflower trail to follow. I believe that botanists do not confirm Jake’s story but, insist that the sunflower was native to those plains. Nevertheless, that legend has stuck in my mind, and sunflower-bordered roads always seem to me the roads to freedom.”    ~ My Ántonia 

     I smile as I can well imagine my mother or one of my ancestors filling her apron pockets with seeds and casting them to the wind with the dream, hope and desire for those following to enjoy bright yellow blossoms. Blossoms that beckon us to follow the eternal source of all light.

  

  Can you hear me singing loudly - like I did as a five year old?  --- It’s a favorite hymn:

       JESUS WANTS ME FOR A SUNBEAM

TO SHINE FOR HIM EACH DAY.

IN EVERY WAY TRY TO PLEASE HIM

AT HOME, AT SCHOOL AT PLAY 

A SUNBEAM, A SUNBEAM, JESUS WANTS ME FOR A SUNBEAM...

In becoming that sunbeam I want to raise my face closer. Hold my head up higher, follow and embrace all that God can issue for my growth and development.  So lets fill our pockets with sunflower seeds and purposes, and scatter sunshine far and wide. In so doing I want to share the sunshine and joy that grows and bubbles within  me until my spiritual hydraulic system bursts.

Have a great sabbath day.  Shine on!

Shauna