The Trek of '09 - Day 1

Hume, Virginia is a beautiful area. Grassy, rolling hills some covered with trees, others just knolls. Cows dotted some of the fields, rolls of hay others. Streams waved in and out of the valleys and the smell of fresh air and grass wafted with the breezes that sometimes carried 'cow' along with their cooling effect. We were going to hike this area, pretending we were like the pioneers of old who crossed the plains of the United States in search of a place where they could live their religion without fear of the extermination ordered by Governor Boggs of Missouri.



Why would we do such a thing? Why put ourselves through what was surely to be a hard, dirty and maybe pointless effort? We all know that saying about not knowing someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes, well, that's pretty much what this was about. As members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, we have an heritage, whether by birth or adopted upon baptism into the church, of the men and women who braved immense hardship as they made their way from Missouri to the Great Salt Lake Valley. These pioneers sacrificed homes, family, businesses, worldly possessions and sometimes their lives because of their faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and His chosen prophet of this dispensation, Joseph Smith Junior. We wanted to feel in some small way of that sacrifice so as to more fully appreciate it. We needed to walk a mile, or fifteen, to gain a small inkling of what they endured.




I had to wear boots. My skirt was cute and so was the bonnet that I swapped mine for; girly, white, lacy. The boots? Ugly and brown and squished around my fat cankles. Being a "Ma" on the Trek, I was in the know about some things and knew that on the first day we would be fording streams and to wear my tennis shoes first. The outfit didn't look too bad then, although I know the pioneers didn't have tennis shoes and sometimes even boots, let alone shoes. The tennis shoes/boots are worn with two pairs of socks, one a liner, the other cotton, to prevent blisters forming. We also had a podiatrist hiking with us for any who succumbed to the rigors of the Trek and whose feet paid the price. We were going to trek in style compared to the early pioneers.



Our handcarts had to be put together by the youth. They were handy, well-made vehicles of seasoned wood, smooth, sturdy wheels and strong ropes for the yokes. We were divided into Companies and the companies into families. Each company had four families. Each family was roughly four 'sons', four 'daughters' and a Ma and Pa. Kris and I had three eighteen year-old boys and one who was fourteen, and then four sixteen year-old girls. Each of us had a bucket that we were allowed to carry seventeen pounds of personal effects in. Suggestions were given of what to take with us; clothing, underwear, personal items, hygiene items etc., but it was up to the individual. One kid had a bucket that was mostly hair product - he wasn't our 'son'. No cell phones or any form of electronic gear allowed and no extra food, only the food we would be given by the camp cook each day. We had bandannas that identified us as to which company we belonged to. Ours were a vibrant red with the trek logo embossed in the center. "Red is for courage to do what is right", to quote a Primary Childrens' song.



The weather couldn't have been more beautiful. It was in the low 80's with a gentle breeze and clouds scudded across the blue skies, blotting out the sun now and then. We were thrilled to get off the bus after a 5 hour trip. It felt good to stretch our legs. We had doused ourselves with sunscreen, Deet, and pounded sulphur around our boots and socks to ward off the chiggers, ticks and other creepy crawlies. Our company, Pettitt, headed out first, the others following at 15 minutes intervals.



Two boys were at the tongue of the handcart and the rest of us walked either to the side or behind. The bonnets provided great shade from the sun and swarms of little gnats that would appear out of nowhere. It didn't take us long to be in the fields with not a building in sight. Fences and gates, however, outlined acreage like the stitches of a patchwork quilt. It was right before one of our gates that we came across a group of women pleading for our help. Several young 'babies' had been orphaned and needed to be taken to family in the Valley. Each family was given a 10 lb. bean sack 'baby' to carry for the rest of the trek. No putting the baby down or letting them ride in the handcart. Our 'children' named her Delilah Philippa Davide and were very good with her. Deanna even caught herself rocking back and forth whilst holding Delilah. Dylan liked 'tending' Delilah too, it meant he wasn't pushing or pulling!



"As we journeyed, mothers gave birth to offspring under almost every variety of circumstances; except those to which they had been accustomed - in tents and wagons - in rainstorms and in snow storms.
"Let it be remembered that the mothers referred to, were not savages, accustomed to roam the forest and brave the storm and tempest - those who had never known the comforts and delicacies of civilization and refinement. they were not those who, in the wilds of nature, nursed their offspring amid reeds and rushes, or in the obscure recesses of rocky caverns. Most of them were born and educated in the Eastern States - embraced the Gospel as taught by Jesus and his Apostles, and for its sake had gathered with the Saints; and under trying circumstances, assisted by their faith, energies and patience, (in making) Nauvoo what its name indicates, 'The Beautiful'. There they had lovely homes - decorated with flowers, and enriched with choice fruit trees just beginning to yield plentifully. to these homes without lease or sale, they had bid a final adieu, and, with what little of their substance could be packed into one, two, and perhaps in a few instances, three wagons, had started out desert-ward, for where? To this question, the only response at the time was, God know." (The Personal Writing of Eliza Roxey Snow.)



On day one, we knew we were going to have to cross the trek equivalent of the Sweetwater river, the Rappapanock River. Virginia had experienced quite a bit of rain in the weeks preceding our trek so we weren't overly sure what to expect. We knew that we were going to be crossing so we had worn regular tennis shoes as opposed to our hiking boots which would take forever to dry out in the humidity. Lucky us, we had a change of shoes, not like our pioneers, some of whom ended up with rags wrapped around their feet in an effort to protect them from the elements and rigors of the every-changing terrain. Here are a few excerpts from journals regarding such crossings.



"The handcarts moved on November 3 and reached the Sweetwater river, filled with floating ice. To cross would require more courage and fortitude, it seemed, than human nature could muster. Women shrank back and men wept. Some pushed through, but others were unequal to the ordeal.
"'Three eighteen-year-old boys belonging to the relief party came to the rescue; and to the astonishment of all who saw, carried nearly every member of that ill-fated handcart company across the snow-bound stream. The strain was so terrible, and the exposure so great, that in later years all the boys died from the effects of it. When President Brigham Young heard of this heroic act, he wept like a child, and later declared publicly, "That act alone will ensure C. Allen Huntington, George W. Grant, and David P. Kimball an everlasting salvation in the Celestial Kingdom of God, worlds without end"'. (Handcarts to Zion)



Our crossing was made during eighty degree weather and we were able to put dry shoes and socks on after we waded through calf deep water. Several of the boys rose to the occasion and either carried or piggy-backed the girls through to the other side. We ended up going over three water crossings that required shoe changes, but no hardship considering our feet were comfortable.



"Some of the men carried some of the women on their back or in their arms, but others of the women tied up their skirts and waded through, like the heroines that they were, and as they had gone through many other rivers and creeks. My husband (Aaron Jackson) attempted to ford the stream. He only gone a short distance when he reached a sandbar in the river, on which he sank down through weakness and exhaustion. My sister, Mary Horrocks Leavitt, waded through the water to his assistance. She raised him up to his feet. Shortly afterward, a man came along on horseback and conveyed him to the other side. My sister then helped me to pull my cart with my three children and other matters on it. We had scarcely crossed the river when we were visited with a tremendous storm of snow, hail, sand and fierce winds ... " (Elizabeth Jackson Kingsford, Martin Handcart Company, 19 Oct. 1856)



On we trekked encountering some difficult parts and the heat and humidity began to get to us. The trail began to be a little more tricky with rocky outcroppings that we had to be careful going over with the handcarts. The trail was narrow with warnings of poison ivy echoing down through the groups. During our training sessions as Ma's and Pa's we were advised to be ready to talk our family through their wanting to give up as the trail became more difficult. Not once did we have to do that.



Then, suddenly,the shout was given that we were stopping at "Independence Rock". Independence Rock is a smooth, rounded mass of granite at the East end of the Sweetwater Valley, 5 miles east of Devil's Gate. It was one of the most prominent landmarks on the trail. Saints would leave messages for family members and well-wishes for other Saints by writing on the rock. Our rock was a very vine-covered, scrappy outcropping of rocks, very wanting in majesty but sufficient for our purposes of remembering how the pioneers communicated with one another and we did the same, writing our names and some, messages to the companies coming up behind us. The early Saints would follow the trail from Independence Rock for nearly 100 miles along the Sweetwater and the Willie Company had to cross the river eight more times to get to the South Pass to be re-supplied with food.



It had been a long haul at this point. Thank goodness for cold, pure water from ice-filled 5 gallon coolers. It was getting late, around 6:00 or 6:30p.m. and we hadn't eaten since around noon. Our energy was beginning to flag but we continued to be determined to reach the camp for the evening, surely it couldn't be that far away? We rounded a corner and saw a sister, kneeling on the ground, digging in the dirt with a spoon.



'Mary Ann Mellor' greeted us, "Good day. I am about a sad task. This grave is for my twins. They lived only but an hour. I was too weak yesterday to go on with our company. I have sent my husband on ahead with our other children and the handcart company. He's coming back for me and the babies. I was so discouraged yesterday to be left here alone, but my daughter, Louisa, had such great faith. she went off by herself to pray to the Lord that He would help us and protect me while they journeyed ahead. After praying, she found a pie in the road. Can you imagine? A pie out here? the Lord has been wonderful to spare us so many times. I wish you safe journey. If you see my husband, tell him I will try to catch up to my family." (Clark, Louisa Mellor, Reminiscences - Trail excerpt transcribed from "Pioneer History Collection")



We were touched by the scene we came upon and the family seemed to be invigorated after the encounter with 'Sister Mellor'. We had barely walked a quarter of a mile and there was a couple of trail hands with baskets loaded with individual pies for the trekkers. Peaches and pastry had never tasted so good! The energy we needed to finish that last little haul came flooding back into us and we surged forward, rewarded fairly quickly with the distant sight of the base camp hailing us with the bright colors of the tents. Of course, the tents weren't for us, we would have to deal with that ourselves once we arrived.



And the day isn't over. Camp has to be set, fires pits dug, coals encouraged to burn and food to be prepared and cooked. At least we had food; fresh potatoes and carrots, meat, onions, seasonings, peaches, cake mixes and the pots, pans, water, everything to make a delicious and nutritious meal. Camp was a hive of activity as the children buzzed around setting up tents, carrying and fetching, determined to have each family in order so we could rest for the night.



We finally got to do that. This was not accomplished with a tiny bit of drama. One camper had a close encounter of the arachnid kind and after screaming like a girl was told to, "Deal with it, step on it and go to sleep!" It must have been somewhat traumatic because it took him a couple of minutes to accept that he was bigger than the spider and whether he dealt with it or someone else did, who knows, but eventually all was quiet on the home front and we settled in for the night, comfy in our waterproof, sleeping bag filled tents. What would the morrow bring?

Mindless meanderings

I have child in India. Who would have thunk. I often talk about what she's up to in her life, because it's always a ton more than other people I know of her age. Where does she get that from? What motivates her? I think mainly it's a love for her Savior and a desire to do what she knows she needs to do in order to be obedient.

My kids are becoming parents themselves and I wonder what they will or won't keep that they learned from Kris and me. How will the discipline? Will they insist on dinner together every night? What about Family Home Evening? Will they continue to go to church on General Conference Sundays as we still do? Will they let their kids dunk their cookies in their milk? Will they use table clothes and think of granny and her gentle reminders of presentation?

We had a lesson on forgiveness today and it talked about how we should forgive everyone. Ev-er-y one! I thought about that and wondered about Robert Mugabe, President of Zimbabwe and what he has done to my country and its people. The man is the epitome of evil, in my opinion, and will get his judgment, but do I forgive him of his inhumanity to man? Do I have to say out loud (because I shall never see him face to face) that I forgive him of his horrible, murderous deeds? For starving his nation? For cheating others out of what is rightly theirs by law? I shall have to ponder this for quite a while. The women in church talked about not being able to move on when you don't forgive. Maybe I just don't understand people like Mugabe and it's not a matter of forgiving him but not judging him. I don't know ...

I went to the hospital to visit a friend who has been in and out for the past year or more. Her life hasn't been hunky-dory, that's for sure. When others are suffering with trials I wonder when the other shoe is going to drop for me. Trials are there to help us grow, become better, take another step on the strait and narrow towards being back with Heavenly Father. I know I've had trials in my life, but I sometimes, well, most times, feel like they are nothing compared to what others have endured. Are the biggies yet to come? I look at what my folks and Kris's have endured in their life times and when it comes to pain from physical trials, I don't know that I could do what they have done and continue to do. I'm just not a toughie when it comes to pain. I wasn't a pioneer for a reason!

Which makes me think of trek. I'm going on a three day trek with the youth and other adult leaders from our Stake in July. I've started at the gym, a little later than I should have, but I didn't want to spend the money for the membership and then be gone for two months with my girls and their newborns. I have to say that it's literally a pain, but I do feel so much better after doing it. I'm surprised at how quickly the time goes by, but that's probably because we have 12 TV channels to choose from to watch as we pound away on the treadmill. I still think I may die on trek. I told the ward choir that I want them to sing "Come Thou Font of Every Blessing" at my funeral. They all laughed ... at me? at singing at my funeral? at me hiking on trek?

Despite all of that, I'm excited to go and experience in a very small way, what the pioneers did as they trekked across the country. I'm thinking of my own actual pioneer ancestors too, the ones that trekked across southern Africa from the south up through to what was then Southern Rhodesia. I won an art contest when I was nine years old with a picture I painted of the voortrekkers. I admire pioneers, but I'm definitely not one in the traditional sense. I pioneered my family's way to the United States of America. That's pretty much it.

The pioneering lead me to think of the diversity of where I live. On Friday night we went to a Greek Festival. We have people at church from all over the world; Jamaica, Peru, Colombia, Argentina (well when Hector was alive), Chile, Costa Rica, New Zealand, Zimbabwe, Canada and so on. There are a lot of Italians, Polish, Swedish and Jewish people with ancestry from Russia to Spain here. It's a beautiful thing. I would like to go to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island this summer. We shall see when that comes to pass.

Now I'm back to thinking of my kids because some of them are coming to visit in August and maybe they will want to go and see Lady Liberty and Ellis Island. Josh used to call it "Statue of the Little Birdies". How cute is that? My kids rock. I like them all a lot, and I'm talking about the sons-in-law and daughter-in-law too. they are all so talented and they are good people. I love spending time with them. They make me laugh, they laugh with and at me (which I'm good with, I mean I do stuff ...)and we enjoy each other a whole bunch.

I'm done meandering. It's therapeutic for me and probably boring for others. Doesn't matter. The end.

Eggciting Traditions!

So we were a day late, but Brinkley didn't know that and, we pretty much 'made' him do it. Yes, the "Dying of the Eggs". For all the finesse we used, it might as well have been the running of the bulls! Kimi lovingly melted the little tablets, using lemon instead of vinegar so it would be 'less toxic', bent the little wire dippers appropriately while Jeremy 'explained' to Brinkley what he was about to do. We all oohed and aahed trying to get our little guy to become entranced, even excited about this box of white eggs, bowls of colored water and Mama, Daddy, Papa and Nana talking in high, chirpy little voices.



Yes, this is Brinkley looking as excited as one can get during the dying of the egg. Poor little guy was exhausted (only an hour nap that day)and his allergies were starting to pick up. He almost reverently placed his first egg in the dye, after being shown what to do. We ridiculously tried not to get his fingers in the dye. Dumb! Of course he's going to get his fingers all yucky ... and so did Nana, because, well, I had to be involved.



This was Brinkley's response ...



What an amazing, fun, project! We proceeded to dye all of the eggs, though this time Brinkley dropped them from a dizzy height and they crunched into bowls each time they landed. Mmmmmm, colorful egg salad to look forward to!

The most fun Brinkley had was when all the eggs were dyed and he proceeded to pick the eggs up one by one and 'load' them into the egg box from the egg drying box. We did that for what seemed like an interminably long time and it was probably Brinkley's favorite time with the whole process. Hooray, green-yellow-blue fingers, one smooshed egg that we tried to get Brinkley to taste (immediately dispelled from his mouth)and a little guy who only showed his excitement when Papa wasn't using the camera. Figures.

Grandchildren

We have one grandson. Naturally, he's the most intelligent, beautiful, talented grandson in the entire universe. Look for yourself.



Cory and Brinkley on February 21, 2009 ====>



Brinkley was born to Kimi and Jeremy in November of 2007. He weighed in at 9lbs. 14 ozs. and is still a big boy with a charming smile (though he won't show it when a camera appears) and the usual winning ways that accompany such a smile.

We now await three more blessings to arrive in the form of Caelen Glenn, due to arrive on April 22nd, but more than likely to show up early as she's 'engaged' and ready to go. Jeremy and Kimi have been working hard to get ready for Caelen's arrival and I am anxiously waiting for the call so I can hop into the car and zoom to Ohio, hopefully with Kris along for the adventure. If Kris comes with, he will get to watch Brinkley and I'll get to go to the hospital to be with Kimi and Jeremy.

Blessing number 2 will arrive in May, hopefully at least by the 14th, to our Jamie and Marco. Jamie has had a really difficult time of things and her usually healthy body has pulled all kinds of tricks on her. Their little girl has yet to be named as Marco thinks that he and Jamie should see her little face to determine which name fits. One cannot argue with that. We had to see Kimi before we could tell if she was Kimi or Jamie. One cannot zoom as quickly for this little girl's birth as it involves planes and airports and such. We just hope we get plenty of notice.

A baby boy will be blessing number 3. We just knew it! Josh and Candy had the ultrasound on Thursday and decided that they would 'unveil' Baby Bean's gender with a cake, as much family present as possible, and the reading of the envelope. And the winner will arrive in August! Names have been discussed with Joshua's being the most interesting, though not necessarily agreed upon. I mean, Dexter? There's a TV show with that title and he's a serial killer! Come on Josh, really?

We love the thought of having all these little bodies at some time being here with their Nana and Papa and playing in the backyard, using their parents old clothes for dress-up and learning to make cookies, bread and strawberry jam with their Great-granny and gardening with Granbob. I was putting something away in the garage today and espied the ping-pong table. I had a vision of that table being up in the garage and our kids and grandkids having tournaments with their Papa.

How can one not anticipate with joy their posterity? To hold these little bundles of joy, see the pride and tenderness in their parents' faces as they enjoy membership in the exclusive "mommy and daddy" club. We, still members of that exclusive club, continue to feel inexpressible joy as we see our wonderful children enjoy blessings and know from whence they come.

Driveways and the hazards thereof

We all make decisions in our lives that affect positively or negatively. Sometimes we do a good thing that turns out badly. I did that today.

Cory's driveway is steep and I've skidded up it in the winter when it's covered with ice. I've schlepped stuff up it when it's all hot and humid outside. Missionaries have filled the driveway and sung to the family after Hector's death. They've also shoveled 'WE LOVE YOU" in the snow on the grass beside the driveway that is as steep. At one time or another, we've all backed down the driveway, swerving our way down trying not to get on the grass or hit the brick retaining wall. Quintin took a door off when driving down that driveway. I'm sure someone has hit the mail box at one time or another. A goat has even strolled up and tried to eat Cory's flowers, turkeys routinely visit as do deer, squirrels and chipmunks.

Today, I believe I did something that will be hard to beat. I went over to Cory's to let Chester the dog out to go to the loo. Before I went up the driveway I stopped and picked up the mail and reminded myself to get the newspaper that was lying in the driveway when I left.

I let Chester out and had to chase him around the backyard because he raced out before his leash was hooked on the door knob. We played with his shoe in the house for a while until Chester tired out and wanted back in his room with a treat. I obliged and headed out the door.

At the bottom of the driveway I drew as close to the paper as I could, opened my door and reached down to get the paper. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my face with the back wheel of the car missing my left arm and face by centimeters. I was repeatedly yelling, "Oh, my gosh, oh, my gosh!!!" as I watched the car meander across the cul de sac and towards the curb and grass, gully and trees beyond that.

I ran as fast as I could towards the runaway car, terrified that it was going to go straight into the gully and me having to call a tow truck and explain to Kris what an idiot I had been; that I had nearly crashed the car and been run over too.

I managed to thrust my right leg in the car and slammed on the brake just as the car slowed down when it hit a pile of old, dead leaves and tree trunks. Tree trunks is a relative term. The thickest one was maybe eight inches around, there just happened to be several of them together forming a kind of fence. My brain was going nineteen miles to the dozen, prayers shooting up with thanks as fast as I could say them out.

I backed off the grass, thrust the car into drive and shot away, so thankful that nobody saw my act of stupidity except for the angels that helped rescue me. Do you think I'll put the car into park when I have to pick something up out of driveway?

My back hurts. So does my pride.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood ...

... a beautiful day for a neighbor,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?

Yes, that song should bring pleasant memories to some who were lucky enough to teethe along with Mr Rogers, Sesame Street and such. What has become of a generation that knew the classics and now resorts to Blues Clues, Dora the Explorer and such for a babysitting tool? Tsk, tsk, 'tis sad.

So, it really is a beautiful, if somewhat chilly, day in our neighborhood. March is trying really hard to make sure spring is sprung before April. The grass is trying to riz and the birdies are definitely on the wing. We have nuthatches, cardinals, blue birds, birds with Elvis hair-do's, various varieties of finches, woodpeckers and the proverbial crows/black-birds.

The squirrels are out in droves. I don't know what the term for a collection/bunch/herd/passel of squirries are, but there's lots. Nary a sign of chipmunks yet, which is good because that means no dead bodies on the back deck.

Cute creatures aside, though, we shall probably begin to see carpenter ants, the weird crickets that live here, tons of (shiver, shiver)arachnids, wasps and then the fleas and ticks will appear.

There are already little buds on the trees and the odd looking plants that grow in the wet-lands behind the house will begin spouting. They start out almost black, they are so deep purple, and then go to green and slowly unfurl until they are these big, leafy plants that the animals race around under. The ferns follow after the trees blossom, their fronds unfolding a little more each day. Aaaah, so pretty, no wonder we love our back yard!

And then there's my Hero

He's amazing, my sweet husband. I love him a lot, but so do a great amount of other people and so I have to share him. I shared him with the Grillone's and I'm totally okay with that, for the obvious reasons.

Kris and Hector became close good friends. I think it really happened because of Cory and me, we have a tendency to instigate stuff, the two of us. I think in large part, though, it was because Kris and Hector served together at church and, then, there was that dressing alike they somehow managed to do. Okay, so Cory and I have sometimes purchased very similar things (like the color of the purses we each currently use), but seriously, khaki's and plaid shirts that were almost exactly the same? Even we didn't go that far - well, we don't tend to wear khaki and plaid,we're more into black and white clothing with splashes of vibrant color!

On New Year's day we loaded up the car with the Grillone's, us and Bryan and headed for Sonic. It's an hour and a half away near Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Why? Well, why not? We love their different lemonades and Karen and Bryan gave a Sonic trip to Sophie and Anders. We adults crashed the trip. Kris and Hector were up front, the rest of us crammed in the back of our Sienna van. Craziness for sure, but so much fun.

Hector brought out the playfulness in Kris, oh, and the competition. Can we mention table tennis? Can we say that they were going to start playing racket ball together because they both needed to get into shape? Hector had even looked into a gym membership right across from Kris's work and they were going to start doing that.


(Valentine's 2007 - The Melting Pot)

We teased Hector the one day we were at lunch at Chili's. Yes, we liked to hang with each other, even if it was just to meet for a quick lunch/dinner, just so we could chat and be with one another. Hector's back was really beginning to bother him a lot and we said it was because he was out of shape and warned Kris he would be going the same way if he wasn't careful. Little did we know.

Hector's back got to the point where he was crying from the pain and that's when Cory took him to the emergency room. That was January 23rd. From that day on I don't think there's been a day that Kris hasn't either called or been with Hector, Cory or both.

When Hector was in the hospital, Kris would visit on his lunch hour. He'd go in the evenings. Sometimes I went too, mostly it was just Kris. He became a medical proxy so Cory wouldn't always have to deal with the doctors and Kris could speak on her and Hector's behalf.

Kris spent many and evening by Hector's side, buoying him up. Sometimes they were on their own together and I don't know what was talked about or even if any talking was done, but I know that Kris loved Hector like a brother.

Kris had to go to California on business. It was becoming increasingly apparent that Hector was taking a serious turn for the worse. Kris didn't want to go. It was February 25th, a Sunday. Hector was gone by Wednesday 28th. So much happened in that time, though. The number of calls, conference calls between doctors at Morristown Memorial where Hector was and doctors at Sloan Kettering, a cancer center. Arrangements Kris made to talk to these doctors, have records picked up, delivered, copied etc. were all made.

There were physical things that Kris did in order to help Cory and Hector, like the proxy work, but then there were the things Kris did that truly make him my hero. Kris gave of his love 24/7 to the Grillone family. He bought Hector's mom tweezers at the hospital because she found a hair under her chin that she wanted to get rid of. Who does that? My hero, that's who - he knows and understands how I feel about chin hairs so he wasn't about to let Olga suffer! He walked the corridors with Cory, bought a Curious George for Brinkley at Cory's urging. He skipped meals for them, he fasted purposefully for them. Kris went to the temple whilst in Sacramento and as he contemplated in the Celestial Room, knew where his friend would be and what he would be about - the Father's work.

Kris came home early. He somehow managed to be a Bishop, friend, husband, and still carry out his job in California, then come home early. He had to. He hurt so badly not being with us all in person and this sweet, sweet man didn't even have enough time to truly grieve himself, he was so busy helping us all do it. He was there at the funeral home from the time the viewing began and only left after everyone else, bar the funeral home employees, had gone home. He arranged for the young men to go to the church before the funeral on a horribly snowy, cold day to shovel the parking lot and side walks. He knew the people would come despite the weather. His faith shone through, sometimes more than ours, as a beacon for us to follow. He's a good man, this husband of mine.

Kris's words at the funeral, a talk he actually had to write down for the first time in his life, were poignant, stirring and touched many who heard with their ears and their hearts. He was our Bishop but he was also Hector's dear friend, Cory's physical and spiritual support and his arms were constantly open for hugs and reassurances.

Kris misses his friend, as we all do. He's about his Father's business, though, picking up where he needs to be, working hard to make the lives of others better. He did so just last night. We were with the Grillone's for Family Home Evening, Hector's parent's last night here before returning to Utah. No sooner had we arrived than Kris has to leave for an emergency, to help and comfort yet another family in great distress over something.

Kris leaps buildings in a single bound, in my mind. He's there with the safety net when we fall, me included. That's why he's my hero. Oh, and then there's this small thing we've got going. It's called marriage for time and all eternity. So we don't always get to be together every single moment, but you bet I'm going to see we get some good quality time in the next life! Hmmmm, heroes wear tights .... nah, white ones wouldn't look too hot.