My Mom

If I grow up to be anything like my mom, I will have lived a good life. My mom is full of life. She is happy, laughs easily, reaches out to people, and gets things done. Above all, she loves her family and the gospel. These are just a few of the many reasons why she is one of the most influential and important people in my life.

My mom grew up on a farm in Jerome, Idaho with cows and gardens and muck and fun. She says that her favorite smell in the world is that of cow manure because it reminds her of home. Today she hates fish and milk and beef because they ate tons of it in her house growing up--nice pieces of cow hair with the milk included. But whenever she talks about her life growing up it sounds like so much fun. Lots of hard work--yes! But a slower, simpler time of life.

When she left home she went to school at BYU and got a degree in public health. After she graduated she worked doing wilderness survival trips with troubled teens. On these trips, she and the kids had to make their own shelters, find their own water, and kill and cook their own food—all out in the desert! And despite the fact that my mom hates snakes, she even killed and ate rattlesnake on some of these adventures!

Between trips, she met my dad and got married at the age of 26. She worked several different jobs their first years of marriage, including helping older mentally handicapped people learn how to live on their own. When my dad graduated and got a job she was finally able to just stay at home with me and my sister Emily, and she has been a stay at home mom ever since.

People love my mom because she doesn't take herself too seriously and focuses on what matters most rather than getting caught up in the unimportant details. Once my mom was talking about how, as a seminary teacher, her students were often late to class. Her philosophy on the matter? "Even if you make it to the Celestial Kingdom late, at least you made it!" On days when I feel overwhelmed and stressed, I'll often call my mom and she'll put things into perspective, making me feel like I can conquer whatever "mess" I'm in at the moment.

On that note, another thing I love about my mom is that she listens. Every single day for the first three years I lived away from home, I called her. Literally: Every. Single. Day. Why? Just to talk. Just to tell. Just because I needed to know that someone loved me enough to listen, which she did. As I've gotten older, I realize that my mom does this for everyone in my family. My dad calls her on his drive home from work and talks about computer parts and other work related things that she can't understand. But even though she doesn't understand, she listens. All my other sisters that are away from home also call her now that they are at college and also just need someone to listen. My mom's example in this case has taught me that one of the best ways to say: "I love you" is to not say anything at all, but to just listen.

My mom loves the outdoors. Hiking, camping, biking…she does it all, and has taught us to love doing it too! I think it’s safe to say that most of my sisters’ and my favorite memories of growing up take place out in the woods. I love that my mom isn’t afraid of getting dirty and that she taught her five daughters to be the same.

Above all, what drives and guides my mom is her steadfast conviction to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. One of the defining memories I have of my mom happened when I was a Laurel, about 17 years old, and the laurel class joined the older women in Relief Society for the third hour of church. I sat next to my mom and as the lesson was going on the volunteer sign up binder came to us. I knew my mom was already very busy--between teaching seminary and taking care of five girls, she didn't have any free time. Yet as this binder came to her, she opened it up and began signing herself up to help with different things.

"Mom," I said, "Why are you signing up? You're already so busy."

She looked at me and said something I will never forget: "If I don't sign up, who will?"

In that moment, I realized that it wasn't a matter of available time that motivated my mom to sign up for things. It wasn’t that she had time, it was that she would make time because she was dedicated to the Lord and put His work before her own. In that room, I knew there were many people less busy than my mom who weren't signing up to volunteer for things because they lacked the dedication that my mother possesses. She has always been this way. In many other instances, I have witnessed my mom sacrifice to put the Lord first and it has blessed my life immensely. My testimony is largely a result of watching my mother live hers.

More than perhaps any other individual on this earth, my mother has shaped me into the person that I am today. Her confidence in and love for me gave me the wings I needed to go forth in life unafraid and full of determination to live life well. I know it took immense sacrifice and hard work on her part, for which I will be forever grateful. Today, her love and example continue to bless my life, especially now as I’m expecting a daughter of my own. I hope I can be every bit as wonderful of a mother to her as my mother was, and continues to be, to me. 

Doing a LOT of Running on Pioneer Day!!!

This past January, Jon came up to me and said this:

"I want to run a marathon!!!"

We talked about it and decided it'd be fun to find a race wherein he could run the full marathon and I could run a half. So, a ridiculous amount of money later, we were signed up to run the Deseret News Classic on Pioneer Day--July 24th, 2015.

This past June, Jon came up to me and said this:

"Why'd I ever think this was a good idea to run a marathon? Running is stupid! Once I'm done with this race, I'm saying goodbye to running for forever!"

We talked about it, and what with him having hardly trained for the race because he'd been so busy finishing up classes to graduate, I suggested that he maybe just run the half marathon with me. His response was along the lines of: "But a half marathon isn't really any sort of accomplishment and that'd be dumb!" So, he went ahead and did the full marathon.

This past July 24th, Jon ran across the finish line after having ran all 26.2 miles down Emigration Canyon and through part of Salt Lake City and said this:

Well, actually, I can't quite recall what he said. Mostly, he was deathly white and barely walking and so tired that he didn't really want to talk. But he finished, and now the deed is done!

Both of us were pretty excited about our times! The best time I've ever gotten running a half is 2 hours 10 minutes, and that was with extensive training. This time, I didn't train nearly as well and was hoping to, at the very least, get the same time. So I ran with the 2:10 pacers for the first half of the race and was able to keep up just fine! Then, for the second part of the race, a girl named Tori that had also been running with the 2:10ers and I pulled ahead of the group and started running 9 minute miles instead of 10 minute miles! We finished the race together at 2 hours, 3 minutes, and 47 seconds, averaging with an overall 9:30 mile! I was really happy with how well I'd done, despite little training!

Jon ran the first 15 miles at about a 8:30 per mile no problem. Around mile 15, though, things got a bit harder, but her kept running diligently until about mile 20. Here, it was just too hard to keep running straight, and he finished up by alternating running and walking. He finished at 4 hours, 2 minutes, and 42 seconds, averaging a 9:16 mile! Holy cow!

One really cool part about the race was that, since it was on Pioneer Day, Jon and I wanted to run remembering our ancestor pioneers. So the day before the race we decorated shirts with the names of our ancestors on them and then race the race in them! When the running got rough, I just remembered the names of Louisa B. Rogers and Christina A. Larsen and ran a bit harder for them. It was cool, having something bigger than myself to run for.

My shirt:

The front of Jon's shirt:

The back of Jon's shirt (Jon's face included):

I doubt Jon will ever run a race again, and there's a good chance I may never run a race again too because I think my time to be better spent on other things besides training, but I really did love running in the race. There's something very powerful about doing hard physical things. Not only does it help you feel more in control of your body, it helps you feel powerful and strong in other areas of your life too. Like, "If I can run that really long and hard race, I can do other hard things in life too!" If you've ever felt like running a race is something you want to do, I'd encourage you to do it! It's more possible than you might think, and the feeling you get in the end is amazing!

On Giving and Receiving Service

By: My Grandma Sorensen

What is one of the most meaningful times when you've been able to serve someone else?

I think the most meaningful service I have been able to give over the years is the service to my family. I have always been blessed to be able to be a stay at home mom. I have always been able to be there when the kids came from school or whatever, and been able to answer them when they would come in the door calling: “Mom—MOM!” not necessarily needing anything, just wanting to know if I was there.

I loved cooking for them and having a hot meal together every night. There were some time when we were not all there, then I would fix a plate and put it in the oven so they could have it when they got home. They knew there would always be something for them. Bread making day was always fun. Especially when it came out of the oven just as they came home from school. Kenneth always looked for the little piece of dough I would save for him.  I loved canning for them. We would do several bushels of peaches and pears. Most of the time it was a family affair and everyone would help. We would pick, clean and snap beans together so I could can them. It was always a great feeling to go into the storage room and see rows and rows of food.

I won't ever forget what we came to call “our strawberry summer.” Grandpa would leave for work. Our garden was at the end of the driveway. He would look at it and come back in and say: “Looks like a few berries are ready, you better pick today—there aren't very many; it won't take too long.” Then the kids would go out and pick and pick and pick. We have never had berries like that before or since. But oh, I was able to make all the wonderful jam we wanted. Our garden was huge—at least as long as your backyard and half as wide. We would usually work in it together and then play games in the yard. We played all kinds of game. The yard was big enough to do anything we wanted.

I loved to sew for the kids. As long as they would wear homemade things. Steven used to sit on the floor by me and sew all the scraps together in a big long line. I like to think Susan is the seamstress she is because we sewed so much at home. She would get tired of waiting for me to get to something for her so she started very young to sew for herself.

Not long ago, when we were recalling old times Steven mentioned how nice it was that I would get up and cook the breakfast before they would go fishing. I had never really thought of it as anything extra. It was just something I liked to do.

I hope my example and service has been a help to my children in their homes. I must have done something right because they all love to come home and that makes me feel wonderful.

What is one of the most meaningful times when you've been served?

I have received so much wonderful service in my life it’s hard to choose. A couple that come to mind are: First my Mom. My sweet, sweet  Mom. Mom didn't like to travel. She interfered just to stay home. However, she was always there for me when we welcomed a beautiful new little spirit into our home. I always had a really hard time being in the family’s way. I would be so sick and throw up the whole 9 months. When Steven was on the way, and I was just as sick as I had been for Kenneth and Susan, I remember Grandpa asking me if I hadn't learned how to do it better yet. I remember lying on the couch being so sick. The phone rang and it was my Mom wanting to know if I needed her help. I told her I was fine and would be okay. I guess I wasn't too convincing because the next day she called to say she was coming. That was one of the most warm, nonfattening calls I have ever gotten. She came on the bus. Remember how I told you she didn't like to travel. This is how she came:

She put on three dresses (light jersey ones), a jacket, and she put her garments in her purse. She didn't even carry a suitcase. When she got here, she was wearing the only shoes she had brought. It just so happened she had put on one brown one and one black one at home and didn't notice. Another time during a layover on the bus, she was walking around a little. She needed to use a rest room. She went into a little dress shop. When she left she bought a blouse because they had been so nice to her. For her to make those trips for me is love and service above and beyond. I will never forget.

The second is from Janet*. After I had my stroke, she gave up her home and her life to come home and take care of Dad and me. I really don't know if I would still be here if she hadn't. I have always felt I could do anything regardless of how I felt. If I didn’t feel good just at that moment, I had to push a little harder. Not this time. I just couldn't. Janet came and took over. When she saw me doing things I really shouldn't she put a stop to it. She saw to it that I took care of myself and didn't push. I now have a very bad heart that is very painful. If I overdue I pay for it by being kept awake at night or by being in terrible pain in the day. When she sees me doing too much she puts a stop to it right now. She fills in all the places that I can't anymore. She tells us she is her for the long haul. She is going to stay and take care of us as long as we are around. Now that’s service—putting yourself and your life and your plans on hold for someone else. This is something we can never repay and are eternally grateful for.

*Janet is my aunt, Grandma's youngest daughter

(Memory emailed to me on June 13th, 2014)

Click here to see the memory on familysearch.org

Memories of Her Mom, Olive Ann Roundy Brown

By: My Grandma Sorensen

Mom had many skills. She was the bookkeeper for my Dad’s business for years.  This was when she had a house full of little ones. She was the world’s number one genealogist. She spent hours and hours finding those on her line and then she did Dad’s. She helped countless people in Logan do theirs. She was always lending what she had done to cousins. She spent a lot of money to have people search out her line in other countries. She spent days in Salt Lake at the library. She learned to read Danish so she could find more names. I would give anything to see her here now with all the wonderful tools we now have at our fingertips.

As kids, we always looked forward to our Christmas break from school. Not just for the time away from school and the always exciting visit from the Jolly Little Man in the red suit, but for the time we knew we would have to spend with Mom. Every morning when we got up she would say, “Okay. As soon  as we get the house cleaned up we will play games.” Boy, you never saw beds made, dishes done (without the aid of a dishwasher), and the floors cleaned so fast in your life. Mom was always true to her word. From the minute the cleaning was finished she spent the whole day with us playing games. We played rook and all different board games. We played for fun. Everyone had a great time without argument. We had every game you could possible want, and we loved them all. As I watch your family playing games on Sunday afternoons it reminds me a lot of the time I spent with mom.

Mom had a great sense of humor. I remember one day Mom had been cleaning all morning. We were all sitting up to the cupboard for lunch. As we were sitting there, Mom poured us each a full glass of cold milk to have with our sandwich. As she pulled up her chair to join us she said “Now everyone be very careful and don't spill your milk, I just scrubbed and waxed the floor.” When she turned to pick up her sandwich she knocked her glass over and milk went everywhere. She laughed ‘till she almost cried. We all joined in on the fun.

Mom was always a lady. She always wore a dress and always looked very nice.  In fact, the only time I saw my mother in pants was the day she went horseback riding with my dad and members of a riding club he belonged to. She didn't care for the horse ride. I don't ever remember seeing her in pants again.
Mom was a scriptorian. When her presence wasn't needed somewhere else, you would find her reading the scriptures. She could answer any question you had.

Mom was always loving and kind. She treated everyone the same. I can't remember her ever saying anything unkind about anyone. As she got older and we were caring for her in our home, Janet made the comment: “Grandma may not know what’s going on, but she is still the sweet loving person she has always been,” and she was ‘till the end. I am so grateful for the wonderful mother my Heavenly Father blessed me with. For the wonderful example she was and still is to me. One of the greatest things she taught me was to accept every calling you were given and to work as hard as you could to make it a success. She was always busy doing her church jobs and never complained about what was required of her.

(Memory emailed to me on May 19th, 2014)

Click here to see the memory on familysearch.org 

A Testimony on Prayer

By: My Grandma Sorensen

My testimony of prayer has changed greatly over the years.  It has gotten stronger. I mean really stronger. I feel prayer is now the anchor of my testimony. It gives me such a warm comforting feeling to know that Heavenly Father is only a prayer away. I find that I not only talk to him night and morning but ALL day long. No matter the situation, I'm constantly asking Him for help, thanking Him for his help or asking for guidance or forgiveness. I have had prayers answered so quickly it is almost scary.   Other times I have wondered if my prayer makes it past the ceiling. At those times, I know I'm the one not doing something right and as I pay more attention to what I am doing and get closer to My Father in Heaven the answer will come. I have learned that the answers He gives me are the ones that are best for me even thought they might take me a while to accept.

One very special experience with prayer had to do with your Mom. It happened so long ago I don't remember all the details, but your Mom, out of the blue, started running a very high fever. She was about 18 months old. It was late in the afternoon. We called the doctor only to find he was out of town and was going to be gone for several days. We lived in Shoshone where we didn't have a hospital. I remember getting very upset because the doctor wasn't there when I so desperately needed him. We called the number that we were told was the doctor that was going to stand in for him. To our great surprise, he said he would come to the house. Our regular doctor would never have done that. I remember praying so hard for help. Your Mom had started to turn blue around her mouth. I even put her on the bed and blew air into her mouth. When the doctor finally arrived, which seemed like for even when it was only a few minutes, to our Great surprise we found out he was L.D.S. He checked your mom over and said he thought she had quick pneumonia. She had been fine the day before.  He and grandpa gave your mom a blessing (which would not have happened with our regular doctor).  The doctor wanted me to have your mom checked out at the hospital which was 37 miles away. We decided Grandpa would stay with the rest of the kids and I would drive Barbara to the hospital. As we drove, her breathing was so shallow I could see her chest going up and down. I had to pull her close enough to me so I could put my finger under her nose and feel the air coming out. That's how we made the trip, my finger under her nose and me praying like I have never prayed before. We finally got there and the doctor there felt like our doctor had make the right call, but they wanted her to be checked for spinal meningitis. The tests were negative. After getting some liquid and medication and watching her a few hours, we were free to go home.

The reason the Dr. wanted you mom checked for spinal meningitis is a whole other story. Like Paul Harvey used to say, “Now for the rest of the story.” The day before you mom got sick the kids had friends over to play. These were kids that they had known but had moved away and had just moved back, so they were all excited to see them.

We found out a couple of nights after the play day that our Bishop’s son had died suddenly of spinal meningitis. The kids that had come for play day—kids we hadn't seen for over a year—had been with the Bishops son just the day before he died. Spinal meningitis is very contagious and everyone that had been anywhere around the Bishop’s son had to get a shot. So of course, when your Mom got so sick right after these kids had spent the day with us I was sure she had spinal meningitis. Of course she didn’t. It was quick pneumonia like our wonderful stand in doctor thought, but let me tell you that it was a very long car ride to the hospital. One I don't think I could have made it without being able to plead with my Heavenly Father all the way. This  experience is just one of the many tender mercies I have received from my Heavenly  Father through prayer.

(Memory emailed to me on May 10th 2014)

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An Overview of My Mom's Life Growing-Up

When and where were you born? Describe your home, your neighborhood and the town you grew up in.

I was born in Burley, Idaho on December 7^th, 1963, while my family was living in Heyburn, Idaho.  We moved from there when I was very young, so I have no memory of life there.  We moved to Shoshone, Idaho.  I have some memories of that home and town, but they are very faint.  When I was 4, we moved to Jerome, Idaho, to a 17-acre farm so that my dad could do what he loved most—farm.  He was a Civil Engineer and worked fulltime as such, but had the farm as a sort of hobby—a very all-consuming hobby!  Our house was a somewhat typical farmhouse.  When we moved in, there were 3 bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, a front room (like a living room, really), and one bathroom.  The basement was unfinished.  My parents got one of the bedrooms, and the girls got one bedroom while the boys got the other.  There were 3 boys and 3 girls.  And yes, we really survived—all 8 of us—with only one bathroom.  Eventually my dad finished part of the basement as a very large bedroom which my brothers all shared.  The rest of the basement consisted of an area for the washer and dryer, a large fruit room, as we called it, for storing all the home-canned bottles my mom put up every year (somewhere around 1500/year!), more shelves for dry-food storage, an old coal-burning furnace, and a coal room full of coal.  The coal room used to give me nightmares, because it was so dark and black.  Eventually my parents had a heat pump installed, and the coal room disappeared so that the fruit room could expand.

We had a very large garden every year, which all of us were expected to help plant and maintain.  We grew/raised everything we needed to sustain our family and were indeed very self-reliant.  We hardly had a need to go to town for things, as my mother sewed most of our clothes—especially when I was young—and we raised cows for meat.  Also, we had a milking cow so we always had fresh mild—which I hated because of the bits of cream that would slide down your throat when you drank it.  For a time we also had chickens, but eventually we just bought our eggs from a neighbor.  It was a wonderful rural environment that I loved.  Our closest neighbors were about ¼ of a mile in one direction, and ½ of a mile in the other direction.  Our farm bordered desert land, so we were fairly remote.  We had a HUGE yard—at least an acre—all planted in grass, which I got to mow.  Our house was situated on a small hill.  There were three very large willow trees in our yard which we put to good use, climbing, building treehouses in, and tying rope swings to.  We also had a canal running through our property which we would swim in on hot summer days.  We were free to roam as we chose.  Our parents never had to worry about “bad” stuff happening to us.  And so we spent much of our growing up outdoors, digging holes for “forts”, making mud villages, playing “Jam” (it’s called “Sardines” now), Kick the Can, Hide and Seek, and a myriad of other outdoor games and activities.  We would either walk or ride bikes to play with our neighbor friends, which we had at both ends of the dead-end gravel road we lived on.  Often in the wintertime we would find ourselves snowed in—literally—as the snow would fall heavily and the wind would create large drifts that made our gravel road impassable at times. 

I attended school in the town of Jerome, which had a population of about 5,000 (I’m guessing) at the time.  I went all through my school years in Jerome, 1^st through 12^th grade with the same kids.  The town itself had one stoplight, at the intersection of Main and Lincoln.  There was a drugstore on the corner there that had a soda fountain, and another drugstore that was well-stocked with candy that we would stop and buy on our way to Primary on Tuesdays or Wednesdays after school.  There was a movie theater, a few banks, a few grocery stores—one of which five of my family members (me included) worked at at some point—and various other businesses.  

My Mom's Name

What is your full name? Why did your parents give you that name?

My full name is Barbara Ann (Sorensen) Rogers.  I don’t know why my parents chose “Barbara” as my first name.  My maternal grandmother was named Olive Ann, so I guess I got my middle name from her, and I passed it on to my middle daughter, Jessica Ann Rogers.

(Emailed to me on September 17th, 2014)

My Dad's Name

What is your full name? Why did your parents give you that name?

My full name is Donald Corey Rogers.  My parents gave me this name because I was their oldest son and they wanted me to be named after my father but they did not want me to be a Junior (exact name).   My Father’s name was Donald Claridge Rogers.  I'm not sure why they named him Donald, but his middle name is his mother’s maiden name (Claridge).  Since they did not want me to be a Junior, my middle name was Corey, which at the time was a unique name.   Since they did not want any confusion in our home, they had me go by my middle name (Corey).

(Emailed to me on September 15th, 2014)

An Overview of My Dad's Life Growing-Up

I was born in Safford, Arizona on May 14, 1959.  My parents owned a small 2 bedroom house (it also
had a living room, kitchen and bathroom) which they bought and fixed up.  Our family lived there for the next 5 years and then moved to St. Johns Arizona.  I do not remember very much about my home life in Safford.  Both of my Grandparents lived in Safford and I was told that we lived next door to Grandpa and Grandma Barney.  However, I do not remember visiting them in their house.  I do remember that we had a TV, which was pretty rare back then.  My favorite shows were, "The Lone Ranger," and "Jonny Quest."  My Grandpa Barney use to call me "Cowboy" because I wanted to be like The Lone Range, and one Christmas I got a cap gun set.  The nickname stuck for a long time.  However, I have outgrown the Cowboy thing and generally do

not want anything to do with Western wear any more.  I remember that we had a big willow tree in our yard and a swing set.  Dad also built a fence around our front yard (probably to keep me from wondering into the street).  I remember sitting in front of the fence and watching cars go by pretending to be a G.I Joe guy.  I also thought it would be cool to be a fireman and received a fire truck my last Christmas there.  I don't remember much about the neighborhood.  I know there was a small store at the end of the street that we use to go to and buy popsicles at during the summer.  The railroad tracks were across the street from our house and on the other side of the railroad tracks was a big Cotton field.  In March when the Field was empty, Dad would fly kites with us.  We got the kite to go really high and Dad bought special reels for the kite string so it would not get tangled up.  I remember going to church only once while living in Safford.  However, mom had lots of church records and we listened to primary songs all the time.

My Connection to Grandma Sorensen

I feel a special connection to Grandma Sorensen because I get my middle name--Maureen--from her. I feel the power in Helaman's words to his sons: 

"Behold, I have given unto you the names of our first parents who came out of the land of Jerusalem; and this I have done that when you remember your names ye may remember them; and when ye remember them ye may remember their works; and when ye remember their works ye may know how that it is said, and also written, that they were good. Therefore, my sons, I would that ye should do that which is good, that it may be said of you, and also written, even as it has been said and written of them." (Helman 5:6-7)

When I first studied this scripture several years ago, I discovered a great desire to be a better person so that it could also be said of me that I do "that which is good" like the person I'm named after--Grandma Sorensen. As I have come to know her better through interviews I've done with her over the past year, however, her stories and testimony ignite within me an even greater desire to be good and live the gospel. It's amazing how humbled and willing I feel to improve after I read one of her emails or after listening to the interview I did with her and realize that I'm the descendant of someone truly amazing.

I hope that if she were ever to come to me in a dream after leaving this life like George Albert Smith's grandfather did, and were to ask: "I would like to know what you've done with my name," that I could respond as President Smith did: "I have never done anything with your name of which you need be ashamed." When I know I can give such a response in this occasion, I know that my life is on the right track.