How Firm a Foundation -We Never Sing the Best Verses (Part 5 of 7)

My grandpa’s garden looked like a farm, at least to me, even though it was nowhere near that size.  Grandpas "farm" produced many vegetables.  He would bring us zucchini, apples, and I also loved the corn.  And it produced tomatoes that, to this day, I remember as the best tasting. Ever! 

“Grandpa?  What makes Hooper tomatoes so much better than all the other tomatoes?” I would often ask of my Grandfather Don Read as he would drop off what seemed like endless buckets of Tomatoes from his Garden each year. 

He would often respond with explanations like the harsh environment, the challenging high alkaline soil, inconsistent access to water, especially later in the year, and more.  My grandpa would say that it was because of these problems and the stress they put on the plants that made them grow so sweet; some of which may be scientific interspersed with a legend.

I always thought that maybe he was trying to teach me something, but I never understood what.  I now have an idea of what he might have been attempting to impart.

I am going to mix metaphors because I believe that tomatoes, gold, and people are similar. 

Tomatoes grow sweeter under tribulation. Its common knowledge that one refines gold by heating it until the impurities rise to the surface. And, people can only increase in strength through resistance.  Improvement only happens when we (or gold or tomatoes) withstand at least some amount of hardship.

When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie

The best thing that came out of my Grandpa’s farm was my beautiful mother, Gaye Johnson.  My earliest memories surround my mother. She was my first friend, my first teacher, and my first love. In those early years, that’s who Moms are to their kids. They are usefully their first anything.

Many of the lessons she taught me follow a line back to her parents and beyond. She taught us to do right because it was right. She taught us to do hard things. She taught us to love family and to cherish their company. She taught us music. She taught us compassion. She taught us about endurance and faith.

My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply

It is because of her faith in Jesus Christ that she has left such an impression on me. There is a children’s song that is popular to members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; some of the lyrics are as follows: 

I see my mother kneeling with our family each day,

I hear the words she whispers as she bows her head to pray.      

Her plea to the Father quiets all my fears,

And I am thankful, love is spoken here.

--Love is Spoken Here, Janice Kapp Perry

When I was young, my family engaged in nightly prayers, and I remember often hearing her pray for our family.  But even more powerfully, I remember a handful of times accidentally walking in on her as she emptied her soul to her father in heaven.  I have found few earthly visions of what it means to have faith that rivals seeing my Mother pray.  

The flame shall not hurt thee

I have watched my mother endure many earthly trials. She stood by and supported my Father as he lost his legs, was unemployed, had a myriad of health problems, and later went back to school and started teaching.  She has lost a child and lost grandchildren.  She has never ceased supporting her family. 

When my father was unemployed, she gave up teaching piano (which she loved), went back to school, received her degree, and went to work. Then while working full-time, she went to school again for her master’s degree. She has many other accomplishments, including writing a well-written personal history, which that she continues to this day. 

One of her most challenging years was 2004. 

Throughout the year, my father’s health, always in decline, degenerated more than usual. He only recently had been hired as a full-time teacher, and though he persisted, when he returned home each day, he was utterly exhausted. 

Around the same time, my older brother's son, born prematurely, was digressing and was looming closer to when he would not remain in this life.

After recovering from a stroke, my grandfather, the one with the garden, required relocation from his home to an assisted living community. My grandfather did not want to move at first. But after a few health scares consented. 

During all of this activity, she decided to leave a career she loved. Her job put a lot of strain on her time and energy, and she felt inspired that she needed to focus her time and efforts on the family.

In some ways, it was a beautiful time; with my aunts visiting Ogden often to help with my grandpa, I saw them and my cousins more than usual. Because my mom lived close and because she had the time, she did many of the day-to-day tasks for my grandpa.  She enjoyed working closely with her sisters to care for their father, and she enjoyed the extra time with him.

She did what she could for my brother and his family.  I am sure my brother and his wife had many burdens lifted my mom. As my nephew Mathew’s life neared the end, she did what she could for them.  They brought him home, and he lived as long as he could on hospice, but after only a week, my nephew died. 

During all of this, she planned fun family events, like she has all my life. Like a sister and sister-in-law retreat to Park City, family dinners, and several days to take her Grandkids on fun activities. 

Several months later, my father died.  This “Hooper Tomato,” it seemed, might break and fall off the vine.  (See mixing my metaphors all up!)

I only design, thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine

Although she may have temporarily shown signs of withering, she did what as has always done when trials come her way; she persevered.  She continues to support her family and her new husband.  She continues to pray.  She has gone through and will continue to go through (and over) obstacles.  She continues to set one of the most compelling examples of faith and endurance to her family.  She is still my first friend.  My first teacher.  And my first love.

There is a story of how a man was watching a refiner of gold. The refiner kept turning up the heat until, at last, the curious onlooker asked him a question.

“How long do you need to keep that fire burning?”

 The refiner looked up with love in His eyes and said, “until I can see my reflection in the gold.”

 

When through fiery trials thy pathways shall lie,

My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply;

The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design

Thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine.