Heard in the trenches II

Aiden helped me make a smoothie. Anxious to try it, he asked how it tasted. I did a taste test and said (facetiously), "It tastes pretty gross!"

Aiden: "Let me try! No it doesn't! It taste-es Van-Tastic!"

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While watching the kids for the babysitting swap

Me: Brigham, move your hand or I'll get peanut butter on it. Then you'll look like a sandwich and we'll have to eat you for lunch.

Devon: You can't eat him, he's my brother!

Brigham: Devon, you're my brother.

Devon: No, I'm your brother.

Brigham: Yeah, you're my brother.

Devon: No, I'm your brother.

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Aiden (saying the dinner prayer): "Heavenly Father, please bless this food that it won't eat us if it becomes a monster. "

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Chris (at Family Home Evening~we were having a lesson on honesty): "Do you know what another name for Satan is?"

Kolbi: "Ooh Ooh! I know! CHRISTOPHER! (Sees the look on dad's face, knows that's not right) No, I mean LUCIFER!" (This is the 2nd time she's mixed that up by the way)

Chris: "Oooa-kaay! The answer I was looking for was 'The father of all lies'. But thank you for that Kolbi."

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Driving home from church, Aiden shows us the picture he drew in class.

Aiden: "It's a monster to get through ducks and walls and mountains and words and I wish Jesus would give me tons of money."

Dad: (suppressing a smile) "Why?"

Aiden: "So I can have tons of money."

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Jonah was throwing a fit about something at the dinner table. I made a sad and pouty face (because I'm such a good parent I resort to mockery)

Jonah: "Why are YOU being a whiner?"

Me: "Because I have such a good tutor (pointing to Jonah)."

Kids: **giggle, giggle, Snicker!**

Jonah: "I'm not a tooter!"

Chris: (giving me a reproving look) "You've got to watch how you phrase things around these guys. (turning to the kids) A tutor is a teacher."

Kids: **Ba! Ha! Ha!Ha!Ha!Ha!Ha!***

Me: "Way to go hon!"

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Yet another discussion at the dinner table. I can't remember how it started, but Chris was trying to explain to Kolbi the difference between a name and a nickname.

Chris: (somewhat frustrated because all other attempts to explain had failed to get through) "Ok, Your name is Kolbi. But if we were to call you 'meathead', then THAT would be your nickname."

Kids: **giggle, giggle, giggle!**

Kolbi: "Ha! Ha! Ha!Ha!Ha!Ha!Ha!" (Falls off chair) "Meathead!"

I've been living in a time capsule

Ok, so we're so frugal (er, cheap. Ok, poor) that we don't/won't pay for cable. As a result, we are left to a cheap pair of rabbit ears to keep us connected to tv-land. Only about 3 of the channels do we get in clearly. To remedy the situation, keep up with the shows we like, and get a distracting break from life at the end of the day, we are signed up with the cheapest blockbuster program available and get a lot of shows for free from the library.

Having explained all of this, my point is, we are behind on all of the shows--at least 1 season behind since that's how long it takes for the shows to come out on dvd. I know we're behind, and I know we're missing things, but what I want to know is when did Little Ricky Schroeder (who we've been watching on the 6th season of 24 )

turn 80!!!


I also hear he's LDS? Seriously, where have I been?

Murder and a haircut. Two bits.

Maybe this makes me sound like a know-it-all, but I know what really caused Sweeney Todd to murder. It wasn't the sorrow for the hardships of his life, the loss of his wife and daughter. It wasn't because he was seeking revenge for wrongs committed against him . . .

Nope. None of that. It was because he had to cut the hair of children like my son Jonah. It drove him mad I tell you! And I'm just a step behind!

You'd think I really was trying to murder the boy by the way he carries on, fusses, cries, whines, and fights. He hates that he gets hair on himself and it's itchy. He hates to have it brushed off. He hates the sound of the buzzer. He hates the feel of the scissors cutting his hair. He hates standing still so long. He hates that he can't seem to remember keep his mouth closed and he gets hair on his tongue. He hates that (because he's being so squirmy) I clip one spot (usually right when I'm one clip away from being done) too close and thus have to cut the rest of it shorter to match the bald spot. He hates to have the vacuum suck the hair off his body. But he hates to have it wash away in the tub because it pools around his feet. He hates that after all of the trouble I refuse to reward him with a treat. He hates everything about it.

But when it's done, he's pleased with the results. He thinks he looks smokin'. He says, "that wasn't so bad," and trots off to play. Leaving me with a bathroom that looks like I just shaved a cat. Water from the bath all over the floor, making the hair stick and become un-vacuumable. Hair all over me and no opportunity to take a shower myself to clean it off since the ordeal took so long it is now time to rush him off to school. Oh, and a new tic below my left eye.

No wonder the new style for boys is long hair. I think I'm going to change Jonah's name to Samson. I'm giving up being Delilah. More power to you Sweeney Todd! I may join you soon.

Insult to injury

Well, I finally did it! I finally got my 2nd oral surgery done yesterday! My husband should be so proud of me ~ he's been bugging me to get it over with for some time now. Oh sure, since it's so easy to find two different babysitters (one who can take Jonah to school, the other to watch Zoe and Aiden of which the former will probably scream the whole time because she is no longer attached to my hip and feels it is her eternal right), schedule a decent time to actually get the work done, and find a time in my insane life where I can actually have a few days to recover. Easy-Peasy! (I know, I'm a big whiner!) :)

For those of you who are squeamish about oral work, you may not want to read on. For the brave, I'll tell you exactly what happened (what can I say, I'm a little bored and avoiding all housework or responsibility today in the name of healing. Good excuse eh?). Maybe I should backtrack a bit. The reason for the surgery is badly receded gum line on my two front bottom teeth. Got that? It was getting so bad that the root was majorly exposed. They don't know why it happened . . . genetics? Brushing too hard in a back and forth motion instead of circular? Braces? The only fix? Surgery.

They started out by numbing me up 3 times. 1st with the swab that had topical numb-er. They do this so you're numb enough for the 2nd round ~ shots that just deliver a few drops of numbing medication (what is it called? Oh, I don't care. I'm just pleased as punch it actually worked!) just under the surface of the skin. Can you say "Ouch!". "Just a pinch" my left foot!!! They do this step so that when they do the 3rd series, you don't scream your flippin' head off cause this time they stick the needle so far up into the palette that it actually tickles your brain a little bit. Thank heavens for the 3 steps I say. Step two was not fun, but I didn't want to feel step 3. No way!

I could have opted to be sedated (I admit at times I wished I was just sleeping through the process). But after the plethora of dental/orthodontic/periodontic work I've had done in my life, this Bambi (who used to cry/fuss/fight just because I had to go in for routine cleanings) is now a decorated veteran (just check out my battle scars and the badges that I feel the need to display across my teeth). Plus I was more afraid of the $750 bill for sedation than the actual surgery.

Once my mouth felt like I had a watermelon in it, the periodontist and his assistant come in in their full on battle-gear and proceed to crack jokes designed to help you not think about the torture they're about to put you through. It worked, they were pretty funny (I could really enjoy the company of these people if they weren't making me bleed!) I had to close my eyes the whole time though. I can deal with the surgery, but I still would rather not watch all of the poking, cutting, scraping, bleeding, and sewing of human flesh in the reflection of their face plates. Hence, my eyes stay glued shut.

They have a double bladed knife-thingie. Kind of like an exacto, but with two blades, separated by a small space. Make sense? They basically "shove" it into the palette and pull out some tissue. The receeded gum line around my tooth is then pulled away from the tooth to make a little pocket for the donor tissue (the stuff that just came from my palette). Then like a twisted seamstress, the doctor sews the stuff to my gums.

I don't feel much except a little bit of pressure (yea! The 3 step process is working!), but it takes all I got not to gag when stuff drips to the back of my throat. The surgery was fairly swift and painless. Like I said, I'm pretty much an old pro at this stuff by now. They cleaned me up and sent me on my way armed with a bag full of gauze (should I start gushing from the palette), two prescriptions, lots of instructions to keep me from un-doing all of the do-ing they just did, and a black & blue chin that could give Jay Leno a run for his money.

This is when the fun part comes. I go to check out and that's when they hit you with what really hurts. Dun! Dun! Dunnn!! THE BILL! Holy Guacamole! I get to pay $2000 dollars for my lovely torture session! But at least I can put it on a payment plan so the torture to my wallet can last much longer than the bruises and pain of recovery. Bunch of Sadists!

In your dreams

I received a very lovely and unexpected phone call from my fabulous sister Kirsten the other day. She called to tell me that I keep popping up in her dreams (not unlike when we were little and I was the annoying little tag-along that kept popping up because mom made you take with eh?). But this time, we kept meeting for lunch dates. A little hard to do since I live in Texas and she in Utah. But she said we have nice chats, whilst our combined 9 children run amok and occasionally get lost. Sounds pretty accurate to how it would be. But it sounds so wonderful! Let's meet up in our dreams tonight Kirsten! I could use some girly chat with my big sis! Since we're living in dream world though, I say we find ultra-fabulous sitters for the troops (the kind that want to do it for free because they just love our kids so darn much!) and hit the town! Heck, if we're really gonna live it up, let's plan a double date while we're at it! What say you?

The ironic thing is that my uber-talented, mega-smart older sister, whom I have always looked up to and envied her "skills", thinks she couldn't write a good blog. To this I say, "Pshhh-aww!" Come on, in a house of 6 boys, how can you not have funny blog fodder? So, all you bloggers out there, join with me in my encouraging chant . . . "Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!, Goooooo . . . Do it!"

What goes in , must come out

If you know our family, you'll know that we've made a lot of different food choices lately. We've truly tried to eat a lot healthier. Lots of fruits and veggies, lots of good fats, minimal meat and sugar, cut out dairy, no high fructose corn syrup, modified food starch, preservatives, MSG, etc.
(sounds like we're turning into tree-hugging, granola fanatics doesn't it?)

Truthfully, Chris and I have had a lot of health problems related to our adrenals and my thyroid. I won't bore you with the details (just ask me if you care to know more, I'm not shy about talking about it or why the above listed are bad), but suffice it to say, we've burned out our adrenals and don't have the physical ability to handle stress anymore. We've had to make these food choices to save our sanity and our family. Sound dramatic? Unfortunately I'm not exaggerating.

Since we've started eating healthier, we've both lost weight, and have noticed a huge improvement in our ability to handle stress, cope with life, and be emotionally healthy. A lot of people don't see the connection between what they eat, and how they feel (both physically and emotionally). Indeed, I don't think it's possible to truly recognize the impact bad food choices have on us until you first cut it out, then re-introduce it. I was completely clueless in the past. I ate what I thought was fairly healthy stuff, but the foods we ate contained a lot of what I mentioned above. I especially ate a lot of sugar. I'm a complete addict!!! But as I've broken the sugar cycle (and I admit freely that I too often fall back), and as we've cut out a lot of the preservatives, additives, etc., I notice how horribly I react to eating it. Literally, it alters my mood. I become ultra anxious, angry at the slightest provocation, unable to think clearly or make even the simplest decisions. Basically I'm a COMPLETE MESS!!!!! I literally can't function. Not good qualities for a mom of four rambunctious monkies to have!

Despite having altered our diets dramatically, we are still human and have one junk food night every week or two (Yea, momma doesn't have to cook!). We get fast food, or, like last night, go the store and let everyone pick out something they want. For the kids it was Lunchables (Have you ever looked at the ingredient list for those things!?! i.e. lots of sodium nitrite in the meat, high fructose corn syrup, modified food starch, and dairy. Oh yeah, and chocolatey/sugary oreo cookies!). For Chris and I, it was pizza (again, sodium nitrite in the pepperoni, cheese, carbs, high fructose corn syrup, and modified food starch) and chili dogs (packed with sodium nitrite and other preservatives, corn syrup, modified food starch, heart-clogging fats, MSG and who knows what else! ) on white buns (again, bring on the high fructose corn syrup, modified food starch, sugar). Am I making you hungry yet?

We had a rather enjoyable dinner, indeed, everyone was rather excited to get the yummy junk food. But after about a half hour of eating the pizza, I could start to feel the effects. Again, I know this sounds dramatic, but I speak the truth. (Yea verily! :) ) I could start to feel myself phlemming up from the cheese. I started to get tired, I could feel myself shutting down, and a fog seemed to settle over my brain. As all of my bodies resources were being diverted to breaking down and getting rid of all of this junk, there was nothing left for things like thinking, dealing with the stresses of getting kiddos ready for bed, or cleaning up all of the mess from dinner.

Luckily, we've had enough experience by now and know that if we eat junk, we get junk. What goes in must come out right? We buckled up for the tumultuous emotional roller coaster that would undoubtedly ensue. Oh, and what a ride! The kids quickly turned into little tasmanian devils. Alternating erratically between bouncing off the walls, and losing control in mindless tantrums. We were swift to wisk them off to bed before most of the effects hit, but Aiden woke up 4 times with bad dreams (all before 10 o'clock). Coincidence? Perhaps, but from experience, I don't think so.

After the kids were in bed, I began to see the effects on Chris. Whereas before dinner, he was chatty and happy, afterwards he was obviously anxious and depressed. The more we talked, the more he expressed overwhelming discouragement about life, his career choice and his ability to be a good doctor, and the stresses of school. Granted, these were all things he was a bit stressed about before, but after the meal, he was distinctly discouraged and depressed. Lacking hope or joy in any of these things he usually loves. We went into this night fully aware of how the food would probably effect us, but it is always a shock how emotionally charged we get. Both the ups and downs are exaggerated. We took the rest of the night easy and just tried to ride it out.

I slept awful last night though. I tossed and turned, woke up a handful of times completely stressed about silly little things, dreamt funky dreams, and woke up depressed, weepy, congested, and sporting a huge noggin-ache! Wow! This morning, Jonah (who seems, of all my kids, to be the most sensitive to foods) woke up a complete spaz!!! He's been running around like he had crack for breakfast. He talks fast and loud, makes LOTS of bad choices, invades peoples personal space, and runs around like a crazed person. Aiden and Zoe keep melting down at the slightest provocation. Kolbi was especially whiny about getting ready for school. And I am too hung-over to have a whole lot of patience for any of it. From my previous posts, you all know that my children are no angels. But on junk food, they're 10x worse!

You can read this and probably chalk a lot of these things up to co-incidence. I on the other hand, have seen things like this happen so many times, and always within a half-hour of eating junk food. This incident was really tame actually~we were somewhat prepared. In the past, after having a dinner out, we'd all be at each other's throats and not know why we were all falling apart. I'm a believer now. After experiences like these, I am all to happy to make the extra effort it takes to cut/chop/cook the fresh veggies and fruit. Call me a tree-hugger or a granola and I could care less now. It's worth it, and I'm truly beginning to think it is saving my family from self-destructing.

What about you? Are the Wassons just freaks? How does your family handle junk food?

Four heads and a blue tooth

Sometimes I'm convinced we're the weirdest family on the planet, or at least we have the weirdest conversations. (Although from your blogs, I see we have stiff competition for that award! ) :)

Today I had a fun conversation with Jonah.

Jonah: Mom! Aiden just smacked me in the eye and punched me on the forehead!

Me: Your forth head!? How many do you have?

Jonah: No! On my FORE-head!

Me: He punched your four heads?

Jonah: No! On my FORE HEAD!

Me: I'm confused. I only see one head. Where are you hiding the others? Is it there? (tickling his neck) Is it here? (tickling his armpit). How about in here? (checking the navel).

Jonah: (Giggling furiously) (don't forget, he LIKES these kind of "beatings")

Me: I don't get it. There's only lint in here. Well, you and your four heads are cool, but today I got a blue tooth! (Chris ordered a Blue Tooth headset for me and it came in the mail today).

Jonah: (who is miraculously cured from his busted forth head) Cool, let me see!

Happy Valentines Day!

Natural cures for broken bones

The other day Chris and Aiden were wrestling around. Aiden accidentally got hurt. When asked what happened he turned to dad and said accusingly, "You broke my skeleton in half!"

Who'd a thunk Chris could do that? It must have been all that practice on those cadavers at school. We don't rack up all those student loans for nuthin! I'm going to start calling Chris "Dr. Bonesaw".

Of course, being a future wellness doctor, Chris fixed Aiden's broken bones miraculously with a tickle, a lot of giggles, and some cuddles. Sometimes the best fixes are the natural ones.

Stubborn to the mat!

Jonah was calling his brother stubborn. Actually he was saying "Stubbort", but, being the incredibly clever mom that I am and being so up on monkey-speak, I knew what he was getting at.

"Do you even know what stubborn means Jonah?" I asked.

"Do you?" He replied (isn't he sweet?)

Me: "Let's look it up my friend. Go get the dictionary"

The definition is this: Unreasonably, often perversely unyielding; bullheaded. Firmly resolved or determined; resolute. Difficult to treat or deal with; resistant to treatment or effort.

Jonah: "I don't even know what any of that means!"

Me: "It means someone who won't do anything they don't want to do. That's you! Stubborn to the max!"

Jonah: "You're stubborn to the mat!"

CPS is knocking on my door

Sometimes, when my children ask me what else they can have, I reply, "You can have a beating." Jonah has come to think this is quite fun. He tells the others, in whispered tones, "a beating means you get tickled".

This morning at breakfast he asked and I replied with the usual "You can have a beating." In a very resigned, monotone voice he says, "Ok mom. I'd like a beating. Take me out of my chair and into the living room and you can beat me good. Oh wait, let me clean my face first, then you can beat me."

I had to giggle. If CPS could hear us now! Hopefully they don't have the place bugged or they'll be knocking down my door any second now.

The chapel doors seem to say to me . . .

Zoe and I have been having some interesting conversations lately. Usually they occur at church, as we're wandering the halls, trying NOT to sleep, be reverent, or sit still. All skills she's mastered (the not part, that is) but feels no one can develop too much. She's trying to teach me her skills and grows restless at my lack of teachability (teachableness? learnin? padewan-focus? What's the right word here?). A few incredibly uplifting Sabbath days ago, I was trying desperately to distract my little exhausted whirl-wind of temper tantrum from my Restlessness Lessons (I truly am a poor padewan) and we stood by the doors to the church looking out at the world.

"What do you see?" I asked.
Zoe: "doddy!" (for those of you not up on Zoe-speak, I'll translate. That means doggie)
me: "What's it doing?"
Zoe: "ee bapple." (eating apples)
Me: "Really? What's a doggy say?"
Zoe: "I on bapple!" (I want apples!)

When I told the kids this on the way home, they about busted a gut laughing. Zoe had no idea what was funny but she joined in with her extra-loud courtesy laugh. Jonah, had he not been buckled in his car seat (aren't I a conscientious, law-abiding mom?), would have fallen out of his chair. As it was, he almost had an anurism from laughing so hard. Is that possible? Chris will read this and roll his eyes at my lack of medical knowledge. Jonah still asks me to repeat this story regularly and asks Zoe what a doggy says in the hopes she'll say "I on bapple".

Yesterday, another lovely, uplifting and spiritually fulfilling Sabbath day, Zoe slipped away from me. I promise I only looked away for a nano-second and turned back to find her little legs a-blur as she booked it down the hall. I had no idea she was so familiar with what was behind all those closed doors, but apparently she's a lot more aware than I give her credit for. No wonder she gets so frustrated with me! As she's running as fast as her little legs can carry her (which happens to be a smidge faster than mom can run in her skirt and stupid-church shoes) she's calling out to the doors:

(running past the nursery) "I on (want) pay toys! I on kakkers!" (crackers)

"I on pa-ee" (past the bathroom, holding herself like her role-model Aiden does)

"I on dink!" (past the drinking fountain)

"I on dad-ee!" (past the primary room)

"I on dad-ee!" (past the library)

(Arriving at daddy's classroom door) "DAD-EEEE!!!!!!!"

Turns out the kiddos on his side of the door were louder than the screaming toddler without and he didn't hear the ruckus. The Bishop's door started to open however, so I snatched up my disciple of Satan and ducked into the nearest open door before he could come out and, I don't know? Excommunicate us? Give her a sucker and bring out even more of her restless-super-powers? Give me a calling in Nursery? Why risk it?

Once again, Jonah found this all to be particularly hilarious. I think he's living vicariously through Zoe and misses the good ol' days!

I can't wait to see what next Sunday will bring! Oooh! Stake Conference! Plenty of fodder for Zoe's Restlessness lessons. Who knows, perhaps Aiden will join in on the fun and give me a few pointers too!

Ain't I somethin' special!

Today I am feeling very fed as a mom (or is that fed-up?). I am overwhelmed at the miriad of ways my children show me I am important to them and considered pretty darn special. Apparently my baby Zoe thinks I'm the cat's pajamas. She loves me so tenderly and overwhelmingly that the second I leave the room she misses greatly and her dulcent tones can be heard beckoning me back to her. Her little arms ache to be around my neck and her little legs desire to be wrapped around my waist as if they belong there. She would so like to be a part of me again, that it is an affront to nature to put her down. Ever.

Zoe's overwhelming need to be near me was evidenced a couple nights ago. At 2 o'clock (in the a.m.) my unimportant dreams were interrupted by her melodious siren song calling out to me, beckoning me to join her for nighttime fun. She missed me so much that the need for sleep was overwhelmed by her desire to spend time with her beautiful mother (obviously she's oblivious to the medusa-like hair, the smeared make-up, the drool tracks down my chin, and the scraggy red bathrobe with the pocket pathetically hanging by a thread for dear life. It too doesn't want to be without my presence). We cuddled and followed her bedtime ritual again, including singing "I am a child of God". Apparently she couldn't get enough of my spectacular singing voice and insisted on repeating the ritual 3 times before I could leave the room without being called back. Even then, the door was too much of a barrier between she and I and had to be left open. If I snuck to close the door to prevent her being awoken by Chris's 5:30- am- getting-ready- noises, the screaming (er, siren song) started anew. Eventually, the need for sleep won out and she drifted off to sleep. However, at 5 o'clock, she was missing her dear old mom again and beckoned me forth to play again. Having rested up, she was ready for a full day of exploring the various uses of mom, namely~a trampoline, a security blanket, a napkin, a conversationalist, a sounding board, a midnight snack bringer, a drink-fetcher, among others.

Aiden obviously loves to hear my voice. He feigns deafness and ignorance to my pleas, simply so he can hear my lovely voice ask him 20 more times to complete a task. I often find him vying for my attention. He's clever, and will use all tactics necessary to garner my singular focus. He's discovered that talking loudly, especially when someone is sleeping, yields immediate results. Also climbing up onto, and jumping off of high places will also yield mom's consideration. His latest tactic is waiting until I think he's safely buckled in this car seat. As I run in to get a last forgotten-item, I find him slipped houdini-like out of his carseat and pushing the buttons for all the lights. This act always sucks mom in. Teaching Zoe to do it too yields extra loud attention, and if he's lucky, mom won't catch all of the lights, leave them on all night, and in the morning the car battery will be dead and he can soak up time with mom at home ALL DAY!.

Aiden also cannot bear to be without my presence so much that he refuses to go to the bathroom without me. Yep, he's been potty trained for some time now, but he knows that I'm so interesting that if he leaves me long enough to take a whiz, he'll miss out on the fun. And you can't pause mom like you can shows ~ She's just too darn spontaneous. So, he'll dance, he'll cross his legs, he'll wiggle like a water-weenie until his eyeballs start to float, all in the name of being near me and hearing me suggest sweetly "JUST GO POTTY ALREADY BEFORE YOU PEE YOUR PANTS!" See why he can't stand to leave me?

For Jonah, he feels a special affinity to the way I say "vegetables". The louder I say it, the more repetitions, the better. He truly does love those green "sports candies", but if he eats them willingly, then how else can he coerce me into saying his favorite word so many times? My kids are clever and manipulative I tell ya, but it's all in the name of their love for me right? So how can I resent it? Who says being a mom is a tough job and doesn't pay enough! I feel so loved right now, I'm about ready to spontaneously combust! KA-BLOOIE!!!

President Hinkley

As I received the news of President Hinkley's passing on Sunday night, I felt a strange mix of emotions. He has been the prophet for most of my life. His passing is a milestone in my life's journey. Yet, with all of the emotions, I can feel no sorrow. Two emotions loom large for me. Gratitude and joy. I feel so much gratitude for the many years of service he rendered to the Church, to the world, to the work. He gave so selflessly for his entire life and accomplished so much, especially in the field of temple building and dedications. I'm grateful for his example, the kind and beautiful ways he represented the Savior and taught me His words. But my most powerful emotion is joy. My abiding thought is that he is finally reunited with his sweet Marjorie. How much joy he must be feeling! Who could be more ready to meet his Maker than President Hinkley?

My friend sent a beautiful video that reminded me of how many years of selfless service he gave, and how many temples he dedicated/had built, and how much the whole world will be blessed in priceless and eternal ways from his hard work and dedication.


"Let us all try to stand a little taller, rise a little higher, be a little better. Make the extra effort. You will be happier. You will know a new satisfaction, a new gladness in your heart."

Farewell dear President Hinkley! Though, I know you will still be working as hard as always, I pray you will find peace and joy in the presence of long-lost loved ones. You will be missed!