The Crazy Rooster (and our love for Grandpa Jensen)

 My in laws have lots of animals - cows, horses, goats, chickens- and last year, they had a rooster.  And he was absolutely crazy.  Or mean might be a good word.  He was like some crazy attack guard dog, but not quite as smart.  Whenever the grandchildren went out, grandma would remind them to carry a stick in case the rooster decided to attack.  Yes, sad, but true.  And it wasn't even when it was provoked.  It would see people in the driveway and come all the way across the yard to peck and squawk at them.

So last spring great grandpa Jensen came to visit and, as he is the adventurous farmer type, he offered to take the rooster back home with him to Oregon.  In a box, in the car.  They made it home safe and the crazy old rooster acted much the same at Grandpa's farm as he had here.  But it became somewhat endearing, and because Grandpa lived alone, I think he liked having a "guard" to alert him when someone arrived.  Unfortunately, in the end, the rooster was too much like a dog and chased a car into the street and was killed.  Poor rooster, and poor Grandpa Jensen.  But such is the life of a farmer.

There are many stories we could share about Great Grandpa Jensen - about his life as a farmer, about hunting and fishing along the Owhyhee,  about how as a pilot he and grandma used to fly all over the world, about how they set a great example by putting the farm work on hold and going on a mission.  With almost 50 grandchildren and over 100 great grandchildren, they have left a great legacy for the Jensen family. 

We are so grateful that we got to see Grandpa just a few months ago and visit him on his farm in Oregon last August.  We will miss you, Grandpa, but we are so happy to have the plan of salvation and to know that you are home now with your wife and the others who have gone before you.  Thank you for your life and your love.

Darwin Ernest Jensen

Sept. 4, 1925 - Feb. 28, 2011

In Mourning

For Fall.  Oh how I will miss it.  I am not ready for this dreary, rainy, cold weather.  We have had such lovely, warm sunshine for almost two months.  It almost felt like we got to extend summer fun for just a little bit.  Mother Nature was so good to us, so I really can't complain, but I am never ready to let it go.  I love the leaves and the sun with cool breezes.  But alas, we must say goodbye.  Luckily we did get to get out and enjoy the beauty of the earth during this most wonderful season...

Hiking up Santaquin Canyon with Grandma & Grandpa while Dad was gone hunting:

Hiking up Diamond Fork WITH Daddy:

 

Goodbye Autumn.  We grieve and await your return.  :(

11th Day of Thanks&Giving - Health

Just to clarify, no, this is not the same as being thankful for "Access to medical care". Colton has had a fever today, no other symptoms, just a raging fever, and it reminded me of an experience I had in Uganda. I haven't posted it yet, because there was just SO much about that day that I wanted to share and I didn't really know how to do it. It is impossible for me to categorize it as a certain type of day - it was new, awe-inspiring, humbling, funny, awkard, enlightening, amazing, educational, and . . . I can't quite describe the very part I want to tell you about. I am going to give you the shortened version of the day to give you the crux of what I want to highlight today:

A group of six of us traveled about 2 1/2 hrs out to a remote village on Lake Victoria to spend the day teaching and discussing needs. We had to hire a private taxi to take as out there, as there is no public transportation that goes anywhere near (probably because there are no real roads). We were welcomed with open arms - singing, food, grand introductions. They also took us for a ride in one of their fishing boats. The whole community had gathered to share the day with us and to hear what we came to teach. As they prepared the food, we were escorted on a brief walk through the village and to one of the two "schools" (pictured here). Though I REALLY want to tell more details about that visit, I will stick to the story. On our way, we were made aware of a very sick little boy who they thought was finally at the stage where he really should be taken to the clinic. We were glad that we were there and gladly used our phone to call our driver back. After visiting the school, we made our way back to the "community center" (benches under some huge shade trees) where we would eat and teach our classes. Before we began, one of the community leaders announced that our proceedings would be stopped because it seems that the little boy had just passed away. I was dumbfounded, I didn't know what to say or how to respond. Then from where we were, we could here the mother crying, wailing for her lost son. We were informed that the custom is for anyone of stature in the community to go in and to "say sorry" (in Lugandan, of course) to the mother. And they wanted us to go.

This is the hut, which I had taken a picture of on our first walk through the community, before I knew we would be returning to pay our condolences. As we arrived, of course the mother was still crying, and I was very apprehensive, to say the least. As I took the first step into the one-room, dirt-floored hut, I could no longer contain my emotion. I cried along with her and her mother for this little boy who was the same size as Colton, though probably older, laying on the dirt floor with ragged clothes and a scarf tied around his chin. I came out and wept some more. Malaria, as it turns out - totally and completely preventable.

I can spout off statistics all day long about the number of people living in poverty, the number of AIDS orphans, and the number of children that die every day from preventable diseases, but NEVER had I experienced it like this. Though I have seen poverty in many different countries and have worked with these people in all facets to improve their lives, I have never had it go straight through me like this dagger did. The sorrow I felt for this mother and still feel every time I think of this experience, is overwhelming. I cannot begin to describe all the feelings - I am sad for the lost life, angry that this has to happen, embarrased that I live so well comparatively and that at the same time it reminds me of what I have. I am so grateful.

Many, many times, in the quiet of the night, or when my children are ill and listless like today - I hold them tight and think of how lucky I am to have them, that they are healthy, able to grow and develop without any sort of hinderance. I am so blessed!

Luke 12: 48 - "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required."

I have been given much, and I hope I can fulfill whatever calling God has in store for me.

I don't think I need to add anything more to this story, but just know that there are many, many organizations out there (click here for one example) that are fighting for life, battling preventable diseases like malaria, tuberculosis, polio, and HIV/AIDS. I happy to be a part of it.