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JFR Notes - Christine

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Christine's Story - July 1988
I don't remember what ages we were exactly, but I believe we were in the forth, fifth, and sixth grades. Leslie, Donna, and I were sitting in about the tenth pew back from the pulpit in the church in Oceanside. I can't imagine why we were sitting alone at Sacrament Meeting, but I suspect Mother was home sick and had kept the bulk of the brothers and sisters who were younger at home with her.

Dad was sitting on the stand and, as usual, was either napping or engrossed in the meeting. I know it must have been Sacrament Meeting because Leslie, Donna, and I had sneaked a paper bag full of popcorn into the church, which was the standard Sunday afternoon fare in lieu of "real supper" after the big Sunday lunch. Leslie was the keeper of the bag, and at regular intervals would give Donna and me one kernel of popcorn as she saw fit. Leslie would "quietly" reach into the bag, pass one to Donna, and Donna would pass one to me (always last in line!) and so on until, I guess, the popcorn ran out (a very lengthy process at one kernel at a time!). The three of us would "pretend" we were coughing, bowing our head, or some such other ridiculous-looking, phony, but hopefully socially acceptable ruse for putting the kernels into our mouths.

We continued to consume the popcorn in this supposedly unnoticed manner until about a half hour later, when one of the members of the bishopric actually interrupted the meeting to announce from the pulpit that there would, please, be no eating during the meeting! Dad was absolutely unaware of his "little girls" and their mischief. To this day, my face goes beet red when I think of that horribly embarrassing incident that Leslie and Donna were responsible for!


A Chris Story - July 1988
I don't know if you all feel this way, but you know that Dad's turn must have been known by the higher-ups for some time because he was able to see his brothers and sister and visit with all his children within a few months of his accident.

Well, speaking of my birthday, the year that I turned 30 (same year as the accident) was a real bummer for me, it seemed like everything was at rock bottom (little did I know that rock bottom at that time was really a high point, considering what was to come) and, anyway, I was lying in bed contemplating the day ahead, it being a week day, a Wednesday, the big 3-0, etc., when the phone rang. On the other end were two voices singing "Happy Birthday to Christine", it was about the nicest present I've ever had, because it was my father and mother, they hadn't forgotten me, and I will always treasure the happy feeling that it left with me, and I know I will still be remembered by my father and mother, no matter how old I get!
Christine's story - November 1996
My story is more of a remembrance.

The date was August 24, 1978. I had been living in Logan since May of that year. It was early morning and I hadn't gotten up from bed yet but \I was in secretarial school at the time and needed to get stirring anyway, the telephone rang. I was so excited to hear my mother and father singing happy birthday to me over the telephone. My mother and father weren't really known for their spontaneity, so this was especially nice. I have not had a birthday since that I don't think about that morning and how much it means to me. What a great memory to have!

1978 is a year I don't want to remember and a year I hope I never forget. My father-in-law died three weeks before Harlyn and I were divorced. Harlyn and I were not only divorced but I found myself literally in the street with three babies, no money, no transportation, no education, and especially, no clue! I tried to pick up the pieces but there were too many and each new day brought new tragedies that I was totally unprepared to deal with. But I remember with clarity that I was 30-years-old that day in August 1978 when my parents took time out to remember me.

A few days after my birthday, Dad's family had a reunion, in Utah and Dad came down for it. I was at school when Dad came by my apartment but he wrote a note and left it on the door. It read 'We took Mother to Leslie's. We will decide what to do later today. Dad. P.S. Take care.' I still have the note and will always treasure it. It seemed so out of character for Dad to even write a note to me that I didn't throw it away immediately. I was such a goomba during that time that I took my lawyer boyfriend to Dad's reunion and I didn't appreciate the significance of that event until years later. Not only did Dad get to see and visit with all of his blood family just days before his death, but I think Heavenly Father allowed him that time to say good bye. And the note I save may have been the last thing he wrote. As the years have passed, the words 'P.S. Take care." have often comforted me during my long years of one disaster after another and I truly think Heavenly Father let me have that note just for that reason.

Some of you very young family members don't know this but I was not very popular with my brothers and sisters when I was growing up. (No!) They perceived me as being wossie and weak and not very smart, among other things! I forgive them for their misconceptions about me! At any rate, I got shipped off to Grandma Johnson's at Lehi Utah, every summer for about 4 years when the family was living in California. After all, none of my brothers and sisters would have anything to do with me anyway. Probably the most vivid memory I have of those summers was the time I saw a car pull up outside of Grandma's house and my Dad got out and started to walk to the back door. I screamed to Grandma Johnson that 'my Dad was here, my Dad was here!' and I was so excited I ran outside and threw myself into his arms. It took several minutes for Grandma Johnson to convince me that it wasn't my Dad but it was my Uncle Paul. Dad's brother! I was crushed and very depressed for quite some time. But that is how I remember my Dad. My Dad was happy to see me and he was proud of me and he saw a lot of potential in me that nobody else saw. In short, my Dad loved me.

I also remember that one day before I graduated from high school, Dad told me that 'where much is given, much is expected.' Meaning that Heavenly Father had given me a lot and I wasn't producing anything worthwhile with all of my talents. Now, don't be laughing you guys, Dad said I had a lot of talents, not me. But that brings me to the point of my story. Even though Dad is not here in body, I know without the shadow of a doubt that he is here in spirit. And Dad is still the most important person in my life because I know he is going to be the first person I see when I go to Paradise and I want him to be proud of me and open his arms to me and say 'well done, daughter, I knew you could do it.' Every time I accomplish something that is monumental to me (but would probably be trivial to someone else) I say to myself and my Dad 'Dad would be so proud of me!'

That is why I think Heavenly Father is going to let me live to be about 100 years old. Because it is going to take another 50 years for me to be ready to meet my father again and not be ashamed of my wasted talents and sinful ways.