Us Seniors

Elder et Soeur Arn & Jody

Monday, February 4

We know that your family appreciates everything you have done for them. We, whose lives you have personally touched appreciate what a wonderful Mom you are and have been through the years.
But then when we read this little piece that our daughter, Susan posted on her web site, we thought of you and how you encouraged each one of us and supported us in all our interests and endeavors over the years, how you then supported sons and daughter on Missions making sacrifices along the way. Every one of us appreciates what you do every time you share your insights, teachings, and your great life experiences.
Though wish we could be there by your side to support you now in your time of need, we know that you would not have it any other way than for us to be here serving the Lord on our mission.
We love you,
Arnold and JoAnn / Elder and Sister Miller
(Side Note:  Marguerite Miller passed away shortly before we came home from our mission.  It was comforting to know that she was serving her own new mission at the same time we were on ours.)
The Invisible Mom

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and asks to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please." I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone! One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a hair clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees." In the days ahead I would read - no, devoured – the book and I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become." At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving," My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there." As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Friday, February 1

President Gordon B. Hinckley

No one shines brighter on this earth than our own President Gordon B. Hinckley!

By Scot Facer Proctor

President Hinckley always uses his cane, just not much for walking. Accra, Ghana.

See what I mean. He was told to carry a cane and that's what he does - he carries it. Elder Russell M. Nelson is at far right. Accra, Ghana.

Not all of us have such a fancy pointing stick as President Hinckley. Kirtland Temple.

We marveled at the contrast of Joseph Smith's visit to the White House to meet with President Van Buren and President Hinckley's visit to the White House to receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest honor given a United States citizen. The White House, Washington, D.C.

President Hinckley said, "Sister Hinckley would have loved this event." The White House, Washington, D.C.

You just can't help breaking into a smile when you are around Gordon B. Hinckley. Kirtland Temple.

President Hinckley is patient with all the photographers who are constantly taking his picture. He did say to us one time, in a quiet tone , that "if all the cameras in the world were thrown into the ocean, there would be a great flood." Kirtland Temple.
Who can resist President Gordon B. Hinckley's warmth? Kirtland Temple.
President and Sister Hinckley were just the trademark of happiness in Ghana. No one could keep their eyes off of them. Their warmth was infectious. Their kind waves of the hand always made everyone feel loved. Accra, Ghana
These two are love birds, no less. Kirtland, Ohio.
I'll never forget when President Hinckley invited his precious wife to the stand in Moscow and introduced her to the 2,000 present as his "Babushka.'' It brought the house down - they loved it. Moscow, Russia.
When we first published it, one woman wrote to us and said, "If people don't believe Mormons are Christians, just have them look at this picture of Sister Marjorie Hinckley." I so agree. Nauvoo, Illinois.

How blessed we are to live during the administration and ministry of President Gordon B. Hinckley. Nauvoo, Illinois.

I was reading an article about President Hinckley when I discovered that we are sort of related to him. His ancestor, Thomas Hinckley, who was the governor of Plymouth Colony, is your 10th great grand uncle by marriage. We also discovered that we are related to George Bush, John Kerry and Hugh Hefner. The latter may not be so wonderful, but it is a great feeling thinking we are related to President Hinckley, even in a small way.