"Stories on the Sabbath" - Papa's Song

This is a true story that happened to my niece, Marlene's best friends Nettie.

Papa’s Song

I was torn between loving home and wanting to go on with life. Papa’s song healed my heart.  I don’t think I will ever forget that Christmas. There was little snow that year. It was as if the world couldn't quite decide whether or not winter had really come. Such were the conditions as I drove home from college to spend the Christmas holidays with my family.

I suspected it would be the last Christmas I would spend at home. We all knew that soon after Christmas I would leave on my mission. Then would come marriage and Christmases from then on would be spent with my own little family. Oh, I knew there would be years when I would spend Christmas Day with my family, but never again would I be there for the “season,” the days of baking, nights spent caroling, the stockings to be hung, and other activities which filled the weeks before Christmas. I was growing up. I was leaving home, and the thought scared me.

I had anticipated that last Christmas at home for months. My family had many holiday traditions which we celebrated together for years, and each held a special meaning for me. I was the second of eleven children, and my nine younger brothers and sisters also added to the excitement.  

That week before Christmas was wonderful. I savored every minute of the gingerbread houses, the stockings hanging in the living room, wreaths in our windows, acting out the Nativity, decorating our tree, and all the secrets and surprises which seemed to invade every corner of our warm house. It was everything I could want my last Christmas at home to be like. Yet, despite the happy feelings, I kept being reminded that this would be the last year things would be the same.

One of the Christmas traditions which we children looked forward to the most took place on Christmas Eve. Starting with the youngest, Papa would take each child downstairs to the living room. Then, holding him or her in the old rocking chair, Papa would sing us a special Christmas song. It was the same song every year, and we all knew it by heart. The song talked about angels and dancing toys on Christmas morning. Sitting there in Papa’s arms with the Christmas tree lights shining in the dark room, you couldn’t help but feel secure. Somehow you knew you were still a child, and tomorrow would reveal all the joys that Christmas morning could bring. No matter how old we were or how big we grew, Papa always rocked us on Christmas Eve.

As I lay in my bed that night, I watched each of my sisters and brothers in turn be taken down the stairs. I was the oldest child at home that year since my older sister had left on her mission. Below me in the living room, I heard the song over and over as each child was sung to. Then it was my turn. I followed Papa down the stairs into the living room. He sat in the big chair and opened his arms.

“Do you still want me to sit on your lap?” I asked.

“Of course,” he smiled. Gratefully, I climbed onto his lap and pulled my knees up to my chin, snuggling up next to him.

“This is my last night to be rocked,” I said.

“I know,” came his quiet reply.

As the first few strains of the familiar tune began in the tape recorder next to us, I thought back to all the years I had heard this song on Christmas Eve. Suddenly something in me wanted to stay. I was so warm and comfortable, and I had no idea what the future months and years would hold. I started to cry.

Don’t let this song end, I thought.

Papa began to sing.

Heaven bless you little one while you’re fast asleep.

You’ll awake to dancing toys,

Candy canes, Christmas joys.

And I pray your whole life through,

Angels will watch over you,

Loving you the way I do,

My little one, sleep well.

Each year before this night, the song had reminded me of Christmas and what the next morning would bring. But on this last time, I knew Papa was singing about life and the years ahead—not toys that would break or wear out, but eternal joys I would find on my journey through life, joys I was not even aware of now. On this night I heard the emotion of his voice as he sang for angels to watch over me, not just for tonight but for tomorrow night and all the nights that would follow when he wouldn't be there.

I let my tears flow, as the last strains of music faded away. Papa and I watched the lights of the tree in the darkness, and we rocked and rocked, long after the song had ended.

As we rocked, I thought what our last night in heaven must have been like, the night before each of us came to earth to be born. Did Heavenly Father hold us close and tell us of the joys and dancing toys which we would find on the morrow? Did we cry and wish we could stay with him forever, even though we knew earth life would bring us more joys than we could imagine? He must have held us long after his song to us had ended, asking that angels would watch over us in our earthly journey, that our years away from him would be filled with happiness and would eventually lead us back to his presence.

I found comfort as I thought of my Heavenly Father that night, while my earthly father rocked me. Even though Papa couldn't be there every day in the future to help me with each struggle I would face, my Father in Heaven would be there. No matter what the years ahead would bring, I would not only have the support of an earthly father but of my Heavenly Father. And he would guide my paths and bring me home for good. That night I felt he too was singing, “Loving you the way I do, my little one, sleep well.”

                       BY NETTIE HUNSAKER FRANCIS

This story can be purchased in booklet form with the sheet music and the illustration at Deseret Book here.

O Come Emmanuel - Amazing!

This year I have been deeply touched by several new videos

 depicting the different aspects of Jesus's birth.  

Please allow me to share a daily 2-5 minute

Christmas video from now until Christmas 

to help bring the Christmas spirit into your heart and home.

Busily Baking....and Bragging!

I had so much fun baking today.  I was extremely happy that I had the energy this Christmas to make and deliver treats to my neighbors and that they turned out so nice!  

  Here I am taking a moment to brag!

Now for a quick video of me frosting the rolls....

I've made cinnamon rolls before, but this time I wanted to make 

huge individual ones like you order at the bakery.   

So here ya go!!!!! Woot, woot! 

 Here are my Christmas Wreath - Cinnamon Rolls

Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday Eating!

Good News and Tidings of Great Joy!

Life has been very good lately.  I recently went to the doctor and had my CA-125 Blood test taken again.  This blood test is a tumor marker and helps the doctors know how my cancer is reacting to the chemotherapy.  Normal is 0-35.  When I was first diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer my CA-125 was 687.9.  After surgery it was 307.3 and after my first round of chemo it was 165.1.  Since then it has continued to go down.  My sweet husband offered to make a chart and graph so I could enjoy the success I was having in this area.  As you can see, my last CA-125 test taken on November 30th was the lowest it's been at 10.3.  Yippee!

                                                                             (Normal is 0-35)

I am so grateful to be feeling so good this Christmas season.  I think back to how fragile I was last year and I am over joyed with my progression.  Every now and then I have a down time, wondering when my cancer will come back, but my husband is so good about helping me to live in the NOW and enjoy the blessings that I am able to experience right NOW!  Ovarian cancer never goes into remission, however when the cancer is at bay, it is called N.E.D. (No Evidence of Disease).  So I am in N.E.D. right now. :-)

I'm busy doing all the normal things that everyone else is doing this season and I'm thrilled that I am healthy enough to do it! I'm Christmas shopping and wrapping for kids and grand kids,  making bread for a friend's birthday, making cinnamon rolls for my neighbor gifts, taking dinner to my visiting teaching sister who is sick and helping my daughter plan for a wedding.  I'm even well enough to take an elderly sister to our Relief Society Christmas dinner tonight.  Last year I was the one who was picked up and taken to the dinner, not knowing if I would have the energy to stay the whole night or not.  How wonderful to be on the other end of giving again!  I'm enjoying myself so much this Christmas season, I hope you are too.  My mother used to tell me, "If you are feeling sad, (which often happens this time of year) look outside of yourself and find someone who looks sad or lonely too and reach out and serve them.  You'll be surprised how fast your sadness is cured!"

"Stories on the Sabbath" - My Glowing Fire

This is a true Christmas story that happened to my Aunt, Uncle and Grandma Tenney.                                                        

                                                   "My Glowing Fire..."

             

               "What's wrong dear?" Rachel sweetly asked.  The woman tearfully replied, "I can't mark this menu knowing that my mother and four children will have no Christmas dinner."

               My sister-in-law, Rachel had just had a baby and was still in the hospital getting her strength back.  In the bed next to her was another little mother.  They began talking as they nursed their new babies.  A nurse had walked in and asked them what they would like to eat the next day.

               Rachel listened as this young mother explained that they had just moved there from a nearby town.  With what little money they had, they had barely been able to rent a small cabin in the pines of Groom Creek, near Prescott, Arizona.  Her husband had left several days before to bring back their last load of belongings.  He was still gone.  The weather was so bad that all traffic had been stopped.  The roads were closed, which meant that he wouldn't be able to get home for Christmas.

                It was Christmas Eve 1944, when Rachel was released from the hospital and taken home to the ranch.  The first thing she did was to tell Mother (my Grandma Tenney) about this little mother.

              Mother replied, "We'll see what we can do."  That always meant that she would find a way to do it.  The problem she faced was that there was no phone at the ranch. This meant that she wouldn't be able to get a hold of Rachel's husband, Boyd, until he drove up from the feed store after work.  That would be too late to do anything. Mother prayed that the Lord would help make a way possible to help out this little stranded family.  As if in direct answer to her prayer, one of Boyd's workers, a man named Carl, drove up with the wood and coal truck.  Mother ran out to stop him before he returned.

            Quickly she wrote a letter of explicit instructions and asked Carl to make sure that Boyd read it.  Boyd was so busy that most of the time he tended to forget things.  "Get a hold of him by the lapels of his jacket like this," Mother said as she grabbed Carl's coat with both hands.  "Once you've gotten his attention say to him, "Your mother wants you to read this letter right now, and do something about it." When Carl met up with my brother Boyd, he did exactly as Mother had instructed and Boyd read the letter and set to work. 

          The first thing he did was to call me.  I lived in town and I had a telephone.  "Sis, I need your help," he informed me.  He then read me the letter from Mother.  Included in the letter was a list that Rachel had provided with the names and ages of the little mother's children.  I knew exactly what to do.

          It was three p.m. and time was of the essence, for it was Christmas Eve.  I immediately called the Relief Society President and told her of the plight of this little family.  Within moments, phones began ringing as the word went out through the visiting teachers to the members of the branch.  They were instructed to ask the families to bring anything they could donate for Christmas to the feed store by six o'clock that evening.  That only gave everyone three hours. 

          It was amazing to see how much people united in a common goal can accomplish.  By six o'clock the families responded with gifts for everyone.  There were dolls for the girls and toys for the boys, along with a complete turkey dinner.  Someone had taken their own turkey right out of their oven and given it to this needy family.  It was a heart-warming experience for me to witness this outpouring of love.

        The truck was loaded with the items for this family.  When Boyd arrived at the ranch, he loaded the rest of the truck with wood and coal to take to keep the cabin warm.  "The roads are in terrible condition," he announced, "We'll never get a truck into that cabin now.  We'll wait until early morning when the snow and slush have frozen." 

         So, at three o'clock on Christmas morning, Mother and Boyd carefully drove the truck over ice-crusted roads to the cabin.  The spirit of Christmas illuminated their hearts as they drove through the moonlight night with the moon glittering off the frozen snow.   Before they got in sight of the cabin, Mother had Boyd stop the truck and put on a Santa suit she had rounded up. They entered the yard area and quietly knocked on the cabin door. 

         The grandma and all the children were asleep in the same bed.  There was no fire.  There was absolutely no more wood.  They had gathered every stick and broken off every branch they could reach within walking distance.  They were freezing to death!  The only way they could stay warm was to get in the same bed and combine all of their body heat.

         Boyd knocked a little louder this time.  He heard a fumbling noise and then saw the glow of a freshly lite kerosene lamp illuminate the inside of the cabin.  The grandma opened the door to see Santa Clause standing in his red suit with arms laden with presents. Within moments all the children were at the door.  "I told you he'd come," the littlest one yelled when she saw Santa.  "Grandma, Santa Clause DID find our cabin!  Heavenly Father answered our prayer!"

         The grandmother was overcome.  "My little grandson would not give up hope that Santa would find us," she explained.  "I tried to discourage him, but he never gave up the faith."  She wept.

        Santa brought in the gifts and then returned with a fully-trimmed Christmas tree.  Mother acted as Santa's helper by bringing in the turkey dinner.  Boyd quickly started a fire.  It wasn't long before the fire was glowing and the cabin was filled with warmth and love.  Mother and Boyd left as the family settled in to spend a Christmas they would never forget.  A very concerned father returned three days later to find all well after the roads were finally opened.

       What happened that Christmas morn was truly a "gift" to all.  I think of the sacrifice that was made in behalf of those less fortunate and I am moved to tears.  We never were able to find out who gave up their turkey dinner for this needy family.  Whom ever it was truly followed the Savior's counsel found in Luke 14:13.  "But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind:  And thou shalt be blessed..."

        The Lord will always bless us as we reach out and serve those less fortunate.  As I remember this touching Christmas scene and the immediate response the members of our branch gave, the words of a familiar hymn burn deep within my soul. "I cannot see another's lack and I not share, my glowing fire, my loaf of bread, my roof's safe shelter overhead, that he too may be 

comforted."  

In my life I've seen many acts of service, but none have touched me so deeply as the experience that happened one Christmas day, over fifty years ago.

                   -- Eudora Tenney Patterson,  (my aunt) mother of five, grandmother of 28 

"Stories on the Sabbath"

Normally I would have a story for you.....

but I'm on vacation for the next week! 

I am enjoying this extended holiday and a much needed break and hope you are too.

I will be back at the first of December to share new thoughts and feelings with you!

Hope you are having a "Happy" Sabbath!

Happy Holidays!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Such a simple message with such a profound impact on our lives. 

Why is it important to live in thanksgiving daily and not just on Thanksgiving?

“Living in thanksgiving daily is a habit that will enrich our lives and the lives of those we love...We like to be around those who are grateful. They tend to brighten all around them. They make others feel better about themselves. They tend to be more humble, more joyful, more likable....The absence of gratitude

makes a person miserable.”    

  --Joseph B. Wirthlin, Ensign, Sept. 2001

There's nothing that makes us more GRATEFUL than to have a grandchild follow

in the footsteps of the Savior and be baptized. 

 Here is Amy & Steve's oldest daughter Natalie, who was baptized this month. 

We were so blessed have our WHOLE family

together on this special day!

Natalie and her dad right before she was baptized.



The freshly baptized little girl!

Little brother Ryan is shouting hooray!

 What a great day for all!

A Thanksgiving Video Inventory!

"And he who receiveth all things with thankfulness shall be made glorious; and the things of this earth shall be added unto him, even an hundred fold, yea, more."  

  D&C 78:19

This last week we were able to babysit each of our Utah grandchildren.  I didn't get videos of the older ones, but here are some priceless moments we had with some of the younger ones.

GRANDCHILDREN ARE SUCH A BLESSING!

Kissing Cousins!

Byron and Dan's little boys

(Watch for the big "pucker" at the end!)

Miss Mya

(Amy's youngest daughter)

This clip reminds me of Amelia Bedilla

Shaving with Papa

Carston and Logan experiencing a thrill!

Little Miss Claire

(Dan's baby girl)

Just so cute I had to video tape her!

Our "Twins" turned four years old this last month!

Here is the Johnson Family from Las Vegas that we love so much!

Inventory time!

I love this quote from President Thomas S. Monson

"Take an inventory of your life and look specifically for the blessings, large and small, you have received."

The first and very large thing on my inventory list is.....

Our BABY just got ENGAGED and we are so happy!

Tauna and her fiance, Isaac Orgill

 

 

 Welcome to the family Isaac!

"Stories on the Sabbath" - Who are the Poor?

One day a father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the firm purpose of showing his son how poor people can be.

They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be  considered a very poor family. On their return  from their trip, the  father asked his son, "How was the trip?"

"It was great, Dad."

" Did you see how poor people can be?" the father asked.

"Oh Yeah" said the son.

"So what  did you learn from the trip?" asked the father.

The son answered, "I saw  that we have one dog and they had four.  We have a pool that reaches

to  the  middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end.  We have  imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night. Our  patio  reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon.  We have a small  piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight."

He continued, "We  have servants who serve us, but they serve others.  We buy our food, but  they grow theirs. We have walls around our property to protect us, they  have friends to protect  them."

Wth this the boy's father was speechless.

Then his son added, "Thanks dad for showing me how poor we are."

Too many times we forget  what  we have and concentrate on what we don't have.   What is one person's  worthless object is another's prize possession.  It is all based on one's  perspective.  Makes you wonder what would happen if we all gave thanks to God for all the bounty we have been provided by Him, instead of worrying about everything we don't have and wanting more.

Sharp as a tack!

Life is good and I'm thankful everyday for a healthy body as well as a healthy mind.  While driving to the doctors today I saw a billboard with this picture. 

                              

That's when I instantly remembered about my friend, "Smokey the Bear."  I remembered him saying, "Only YOU can prevent forest fires!"   Then out of the clear blue this tune with these words popped into my mind.

Here is the part of the chorus I remembered:

Smokey the bear, smokey the bear,
Howling and a growling and a sniffing the air,
He can find the fire, before it starts to flame!
That's why he's called Smokey and that's how he got his name.

To listen to the song click here

Okay,  I knew my mind was sharp but wow....I'm totally impressed with my memory!  Now just don't ask me where I put my keys! :-) haha - How many of you remember Smokey?

The same happened this Sunday when our lesson was on being kind.  I had learned a poem when I was younger about kindness that had the words, 'wept in the night and regret in it,' but try and I might, I couldn't recall it in time to share it.  Then all of a sudden when I got home the whole poem popped into my head.

I have wept in the night at the shortness of sight

as to some body's need I was blind.

But I never have yet, felt a tinge of regret,

for being a little too kind. 

I've heard that our minds are like complex computers and everything we learn is stored somewhere inside.  I believe it!

******************************************************

Here are a few of my favorite quotes from General Conference that really hit home with me.  The first one is from Ann Dibb.  Since our Visiting Teaching Message for the month of November is to share your favorite Conference Message, I thought I would share these with you.    

                                                                          

The above ideas were shared from here.

(Beehive idea shared from here)

"Stories on the Sabbath" - Little acts of Kindness

In some ways this week has been a hard one with the results of the election.  I've read a lot of things trying to find comfort.  One day while I was on facebook I read the sweetest story written by my dear friend, Stephanie Abney.  Her youngest son, BJ passed away on November 8, 2000 and this is such a sweet story of how they remember him each year.  I wish there were more people like her friend Kathy.  I want to be someone like that.  If we all would treat someone just a little kinder, our world would be a much happier place!

MESA, Ariz. — I am a proud wife and mother whose family has been blessed. My husband, Jim, and I have been married for 41 years; we have five children and 17 grandchildren with one more on the way. We have spent the years busily raising our family, but despite the happiness we share, our lives have been touched by tragedy.

Our family is no stranger to death. Less than two years after losing my mother, we buried four immediate family members in a four-month period. My mom passed away in December of 1998, and 18 months later, my dad died suddenly. Six weeks after that, Jim’s dad died after an accident in the home. Another five weeks later, Jim’s mother died due to (preventable) complications of surgery. And just three weeks after that, with all of his grandparents awaiting him, our sweet son, BJ, lost his battle to cancer at the age of 16.

       BJ holding his niece, Rebekah, after chemo treatments.

One Sunday in June of 1995, our youngest son, Brian James, whom we called “BJ,” came to us and said he wasn’t feeling well. He was the one who never got sick. He had spent the previous day out on the lake, fishing with the neighbors, so we assumed he had heat exhaustion.

We began all the usual at-home treatments, but didn't see any improvement. Four days later, too weak to walk and with his lips devoid of color, BJ was admitted to the hospital. Our bright and happy 10-year-old- son was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. In that instant, our lives were forever changed.

The next five-and-a-half years were spent going for treatments, which included massive doses of chemotherapy and radiation, later followed by maintenance doses. BJ was a frequent and favorite patient at Phoenix Children’s Hospital where he brightened the day of everyone who entered his room, despite his own illness. We were blessed with intermittent periods 
of BJ being well enough to play Little League, attend school and earn his Eagle Scout Award. Nevertheless, on Nov. 8, 2000, cancer claimed our child just two months after his 16th birthday.

The remarkable acts of service rendered our family during that time and after BJ’s passing could easily fill a book, but this is about one particular act of kindness that we were unaware of until the first anniversary of his death.  A dear friend, Kathy, showed up on our doorstep on Nov. 8, 2001, with a little vase of the sweetest yellow flowers. We invited her in, thanked her and began to visit. We had not even recognized the flowers until she told us where the flowers came from. Kathy had been a constant companion during BJ’s illness and helped at the luncheon provided for our family and close friends after his funeral. The tables at the luncheon had little potted flowers on them and, after cleaning up, Kathy took some home and planted them.

Like me, Kathy doesn’t have much luck with growing plants, but these little flowers continued to flourish. We call them “BJ’s flowers.” She planted them in November, and they blossom each year in time for her to bring us a bouquet of them on Nov. 8. It’s a tradition I have cherished and appreciated.

Despite a strong faith in God and wonderful family and friends who love us and blessed us during those trying times, we had to find ways of dealing with the pain. We still celebrate BJ’s birthday as a family and tell stories about him, and we have found many other ways to keep his memory alive. “BJ’s flowers” have turned out to be one of the sweetest reminders.

One of my favorite additions to this story is that last year Kathy’s nephew decided to surprise her by weed-whacking what he thought was a bed of weeds. He was unaware that the little yellow flowers were mixed in that bed of weeds or that they had any special meaning to anyone. This happened just days before she was going to go cut the flowers to bring over. Kathy didn’t have the heart to tell him about the flowers so she went to the store and bought me a large pot of them and brought it over. I was grateful, but try as I might, I couldn’t keep the flowers alive to plant in my own yard. They weren't really "BJ's flowers."  When Kathy said she saw some yellow flowers blooming this year we were delighted. They survived the previous year’s pruning and were once again blossoming in all their glory.

"BJ's flowers" are called daisy chrysanthemums. They look like mini sunflowers — small and yellow with a dark brown center. They are believed to bring happiness and laughter to the home. The chrysanthemum means compassion, cheerfulness, rest, loveliness, optimism, abundance, wealth and friendship. Indeed, “BJ’s flowers” have come to mean all these things to our family.

Daisy chrysanthemums are a perennial flower, meaning they blossom year after year. This is one of the things I love best about "BJ's flowers": They bloom again and again, they last for an indefinitely long time, they are enduring, perpetual, everlasting, continuing — all things that remind me of BJ and our family ties with him.

To have a friend who would even think to do what Kathy did and have a way to bring us a sweet reminder of our beloved son year after year speaks to an enduring friendship. The fact that they are so resilient to come back after having been cut down speaks to the eternal bonds people feel toward their children, living or passed on. To be able to look at them on my kitchen table and, in one glance, have so many wonderful memories come to mind is a gift to be cherished. These are not just your average little mums; these are unique in all the world. They are “BJ’s flowers.”

http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=210&sid=18082953 

Stephanie Abney, a retired teacher and freelance writer, lives in Mesa, Ariz., with her husband Jim. They have five children and 17 grandchildren. Her email is sabneyfeedback@cox.net and she blogs at stephaniesaysso.blogspot.com.  

Heartbreak.....and Peace

Well, I'm not going to lie, I've been heartbroken over the results of the election!  I even shed tears several times yesterday.  Why?  No, it's not just because my cousin Mitt didn't win, but because of what this means for the future of our nation and for the future of my children and grandchildren.

This morning I was sitting on the edge of my bed and I saw a plaque that our kids got us when they remodeled our bedroom.

"Be Still and Know that I am God"

The minute my eyes caught a glimpse of that quote, I felt a peace wash over me.  The Lord knew the outcome of the election and he knows what is ahead.  All we have to do is remember to trust Him and be obedient and follow his ways. 

I think the thing that made me cry is knowing what lies ahead.  Because of prophesy we know that things have to get worse before the Savior comes.  It's just hard to know that even the righteous will have to suffer for this to all come about. 

This morning I watched this 2 minute clip by Pres. Ezra Taft Benson that gave me great hope.

"The constitution will be saved.....but not in Washington"

Here are some comforting words from my cousin Wanda and her husband Marsh Gurr who are serving a mission in Ohio at this time.

 In 3 Nephi 16:9-12 and Helaman 12:2 it is describing our day. The most important thing for us to remember is individual obedience and then reaching out to others in Christlike ways to hear their concerns. It's hard not to be discouraged when we see what is happening to our beloved country, but discouragement doesn't help us.  Faith and works do!  We can make a difference in our little realm of influence as we continue to work hard, pray mightily, and be involved in civil ways.  There is much ahead that we must face with faith and endurance.  These last days will strengthen our fiber and testimonies.  Following the prophet and apostles will be key to our happiness.

Take hope!

We are on the winning team

and

we know how this will all turn out!

"Stories on the Sabbath" - Time to Vote

Many of you know that my maiden name is ROMNEY and I'm very proud of that fact!  As this election year has progressed, people have asked me if I am related to Mitt Romney and the answer is a resounding YES!  My father is George Lee Romney and he is first cousins with Mitt's dad, George Romney.  They both are also first cousins to Marion G. Romney, Camilla Eyring Kimball, and Henry W. Eyring.  Our common ancestor is Miles Park Romney.  (See pictures below)

    Mitt Romney                                   Mitt's father, George Romney                      Marion G. Romney

                                                     

    Henry W. Eyring                                 Camilla Eyring Kimball                           George Lee Romney

                                               Miles Park Romney is our common ancestor

Everytime I hear Mitt speak, my heart swells with love and gratitude for him and his family's sacrifice for our country.  My mother is one of his biggest fans and the only regret I have is that my dear father is not alive to be "rooting" his cousin's son on to become the first Mormon President of the United States!
If you were wondering who I am voting for, I guess it's not a question anymore.  I encourage you to exercise your right to vote this coming week.  One vote can make a big difference!

                                                                

"To be valiant in the testimony of Jesus is to take the Lord's side on every issue. It is to vote as he would vote. It is to think what he thinks, to believe what he believes, to say what he would say and do what he would do in the same situation. It is to have the mind of Christ and be one with him as he is one with his Father. "

- Bruce R. McConkie, CR, 1974, Oct: p. 46

Always vote for principle, though you may vote alone, and you may cherish the sweetest reflection that your vote is never lost.

--John Quincy Adams