It’s Christmas again and time for my annual letter
to my cherished great-grandchildren.
A few days ago, I became painfully aware of how
dusty my curio cabinets where I keep my “treasures” were and asked my
housekeeper, Dee Dee, to see if she could spend some time with me cleaning,
making the things that really mean something to me look better. Of course, Dee
Dee agreed, and we began the task of cleaning inside and out. It took us nearly one whole day, with Dee Dee
cleaning and me supervising.
While doing this dusty, dirty and smelly job I began
to think about my Christmas letter to you and chose this event from my past to
tell you. Perhaps because this is a
SMELLY story!
Grandpa Dean and I were volunteers at the
Jordan River Temple, and at one time in our service, Grandpa was assigned to
open the temple for the workers. One
morning very early, we ran over a skunk which had already been hit and killed
by a car. It was lying dead in the road.
Well, it still STUNK==that SKUNK! And it
still smelled on our car, even as long as two weeks later. That incident brought to my mind another skunk
story…from my childhood.
My
family lived in a pretty ramshackle farm house on the very edge of a forest. The Little Cottonwood Creek ran through our property,
and that was pleasant thing. BUT…. in this minor forest lived, in addition
to poison ivy, SKUNKS! That was NOT A
GOOD THING. However, mostly, if we left
them alone, they left us alone. This particular day, I was walking down the path
toward my home. Just as I left "the forest", I stepped
onto the bridge dividing the forest from "civilization" a full-grown,
adult SKUNK STEPPED ONTO THE BRIDGE. He
had no doubt been foraging for food on the human side of the bridge. We both stopped dead in our tracks, hardly breathing.
I was terrified! I knew skunk spray
could stay with you for a long time. What if this skunk decided to spray me?! He, I am sure, was just as nervous as I was. What
if I decided to do him harm as nearly all humans were wont to do?! We looked at each other, never moving a hair,
for what seemed like 15 minutes. In reality, I am sure it was only two or three.
Then the skunk stepped off the bridge on to the creek bank and walked into the "never-never
land” of the forest.
As I
tell you this account of my encounter with a skunk, I am still experiencing
butter-flies in my stomach. You can believe I NEVER NEVER want to be in the
same county, let-a-lone on the same foot bridge with a SKUNK--even a kind one
like I met that day.
I
don't believe a letter to my great-grandchildren, no matter what story from my
past was told, would be complete without my telling you how much I love you,
how proud I am of you, and most of all, bearing my testimony to you. You can
believe this: the gospel is true. Jesus lives and loves us. He is the Son of
God, and under the Father's direction, is in charge of this world, and perhaps
many, many more. Our salvation, mine, yours and the salvation of those we've
lived with, loved, and planned to spend eternity with depends on our
faithfulness to Him and His Gospel. Be good, keep His commandments.
I
love you.
Great-Grandma
Bateman
