COLOR MY WORLD

by Shauna Brown 

When I was a little girl I was thrilled each Christmas to get a very predictable gift from Santa.    Among  his Christmas gifts always included a box of Crayola Crayons and a few coloring books. Clearly he knew that I loved to ‘color.’  

        I was truly surprised one year when I unwrapped the large - jumbo box which held 64 different colors, plus an added feature -  a sharpner.  64 colors imagine my joy! I had favorite colors, but new ones excited me. Today Crayola creates over 120 different colors of crayons.  On top of that I can still smell the amazing waxy scent.  Interesting fact I learned: according to a Yale University study, the scent of Crayola crayons is among the 20 most recognizable to American adults.   

         I miss those moments when I  spent hours upon hours coloring “within the lines.” How my parents marveled and applauded my careful handy work. As I grew older I even knew to add a deeper color to give dimension. Artists call it shading.  I was becoming an artist, at least I felt like one.  

            In 2008, Crayola came up with ‘Kids’ Choice colors for their 50th anniversary 64 box. I thought it was interesting what titles some of the children came up with.  Let me share a few: Awesome - Giving Tree- 

Famous - Fun in the Sun- Best Friends -Super Happy - Happy Ever 

After - Bear Hug . 

         What names would I give my crayons today?  Imagine it, 120 

colors!   

        My life has been filled with vibrant shades of color.  Of course I would have to name one - Giggles Green - Polka dot Pink - Remembering  - Sunshine Yellow - Sacred Satin  -  Pondering - Joy - Inspire - Hope -  Happy - Sympathy - Forgiveness - Sunset 1 - Sunset 2 -Sunrise Sparkle - Morning Mist - Tickle Bug - Lady Bug Red. . .  

        It’s kind of fun - thinking what you would name the colors surrounding you (in your world) .   Anyway, I am grateful for color, that I can see it, enjoy it, and love the gift of it.  

        Color is meant to evoke responses within the soul. I love the vibrant color of  “Cornflower Blue,” it makes me want to clean. “Yummie Yellow” that makes me smile. “Lavender” makes me think of Mama.  “Pink,” makes me think of large erasers that cost a nickel, back then.  “Granny Apple Green,” makes me think of tummy aches. Think about all the colors that trigger a memory.

        I am motivated by some subtle tones, intensity of hues, and inspired by rich displays of colors placed before me.  I am grateful that the eight colors in the crayon box have been replaced by 120. However, I fully recognize that God has created far more brilliant creations and colors than that. Knowing this fact forces me to want to see beyond, to appreciate even more the shades, drama, values and tones created for our lives. 

            “Gratitude is the real treasure God wants us to find,  

because it isn’t the pot of gold but the rainbow that colors our world.”  

                                ~ Richelle E. Goodrich 

        This year I want to color more. I want to use the whole box of crayons!   I just might want a splash of “Silly Pink,” when others color with their “Perfectly Pink.”  I can’t say I will color ‘in the lines,’ because I like change and need change. I want to see more sunrises and capture a “Dandelion Yellow” moment. Dancing in puddles might mean I use the “Razzle Dazzel Rose” or “Denim Blue” depending on the dirt.  I want to blow up more balloons in jewel tones and have love launches with my family. At the end of day I want to blow kisses and color “Vibrant Orange” across my page, exclaiming what a wonderful adventure this life is.   

        I’m sure our Father in Heaven appreciates our expressions of love and gratitude for life. I’m sure he gets out his “Tickle M Pink” crayon or “Magenta,” when we do. 

  So this Sabbath day, let’s get coloring!  

        Tones of Gratitude - Hues of Happiness 

         Call it what you will... but just color! 

  Love always, 

           Shauna  

                                     Let Him In

by Shauna Brown 

          I cherish my memories of my childhood. I frequently take myself back to my favorite day of the week, Sunday.  I don’t know if it was because I got to wear my Sunday dress, best Sunday shoes and jewelry, but it was the day I always looked forward to.  Something about sitting on the church benches, singing songs and feeling reverence in our chapel. I loved learning about my Savior. 

          It was in that chapel that music became a key role in my life’s story. From “Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam” to solos with performing groups and stage plays. Music to me is the vibrational force behind the spirit. So it is of little wonder when certain hymns were sang I wanted to sing out, louder and with full voice.  Songs about my Savior have always been among my favorites. Sometimes I get stirred within to the point that the tears flow freely and the voice can’t render a musical note. I believe that when music stirs you to that point, it is inspired by God.   

        In preparation for giving a talk in church today I did a little bit of research of the author of a familiar hymn, I Know That My Redeemer Lives.    

         His name is Samuel Medley. As a young man he wasn’t happy with the trade he was learning, so he joined the Bri­tish Roy­al Na­vy, be­com­ing a mid­shi­pman in 1755. During one of the battles he was critically wounded. The doctor told him that if the leg didn’t get any better during the night he would have to have it amputated.  Samuel, at that point in his life was living a carefree lifestyle without any thought of God.  As a child his Grandfather had taught him the importance for a belief in God. So considering his options Samuel began to pray.  He prayed all night, and then more. He experienced a miracle, he let Christ into his life, and his leg remained. That long night of prayer and pondering changed his heart. Peace and joy entered into his soul. Eventually Samuel became a Baptist Pastor and wrote numerous hymns.   

     Let me share just a few cherished measures. . .  

He lives to silence all my fears.                He lives to wipe away my tears.  

He lives to calm my troubled heart.        He lives all blessings to impart.  

He lives, all glory to His Name!                        He lives, my Jesus, still the same.  

Oh, the sweet joy this sentence gives,                 I know that my Redeemer lives!    

        

Yes, the two last lines always induce me to a desire to testify. Tears are frequently found, as I feel the surge of the reality that Jesus Christ is very much aware of each of us. Oh, sweet the joy this sentence gives:

“I know that my Redeemer lives!” 

 

  Might we all ponder the thought shared by Elder Neal A. Maxwell:  

        “Each of us is an innkeeper 

     who decides if there is room for Jesus!” 

Grateful that Samuel let Christ in, and blessed us with 

beautiful hymns to tune the heart.   

  

   Enjoy your Sabbath, and Enjoy the Season

With Love to All,

Merry Christmas!

Shauna   

                   

                     Sweet  Remembrance!

by Shauna Brown 

Last Friday night a group of young single adults arrived at our house, just as Rick and I returned from a company holiday party. Eagerly the group of twelve danced around us singing a familiar Christmas melody: We Wish You Merry Christmas.

      We marveled at their youthful enthusiasm as it was freezing cold outside. It was easy to tell it, as white puffs of air appeared as they sang. We joined in the melody, singing as well. We invited them in, but they countered “we’re going to sing to others as well.”   Quickly they shared warm wishes and expressions of love.  Stepping to me, Heather, one of the carolers held out a handmade paper sack reindeer, “I’m so sorry, it lost one of it’s eyes,” she said embarrased. 

“But I still love it!” I replied.

“Well, the cookies are good,” she said, as if trying to make up for the missing eye on the reindeer.

      Hugs were given and the carolers were off running to their cars. I could only imagine the joy they would continue to spread, as they shared more gifts to another blessed soul. 

      I giggled as I carried in our one eyed reindeer into the house. It was so cute and so thoughtful. From the sight of it, it instantly took me back to those moments when young children of my own, gathered around our kitchen table to make delightful creations. Elmers Glue was a staple then. Pom poms, glitter, popcicle sticks and pipe cleaners filled my craft drawers.  Oh, how I cherish my memories, and thrive in creating new ones.  

I’m sure those carolers were unaware of how important their one eyed reindeer sack was for me. Remembering can be such a gift of itself. 

The cookies were good, just like she said. However, it was the desire of their hearts to think of us, to remember us, that meant the most. Our group of Christmas carolers brought joy, pleasure and sweet memories to our hearts.  

“There is no better time than now, this very Christmas season, for all of us to rededicate ourselves to the principles taught by Jesus Christ. It is the time to love the Lord, our God, with all our heart – and our neighbors as ourselves. It is well to remember that he who gives money gives much; he who gives time gives more; but he who gives of himself gives all.”  ~ Pres. Thomas S. Monson

Don’t you just love that thought?  

                               ‘He who gives of himself gives all.”

And Jesus did!  Jesus the Christ, has bestowed the greatest gift possible to 

everyone of us. Each and every day we can unwrap the red ribbon tied personally, and feel of His everlasting love.  Remembering Him and seeking to follow and to do his will, shall be the greatest gift we can offer in return.

Each of us is an innkeeper who decides if there is room for Jesus!” 

     ~ Neal A. Maxwell

May your season be filled with thoughts of the Saviors redeeming grace. 

Enjoy Your Sabbath

Love to All

Shauna 

                                                                

                                    MAKING JOY

by Shauna Brown 

     While shopping recently at Hobby Lobby, I giggled aloud when I heard a surge of musical sounds coming from a nearby display filled with music boxes, musical toys of all varieties.  I say, giggled because, even without looking I knew it must be my husband Rick, setting each one in play mode.   

       Peeking around the corner I observed him going from music boxes, to musical monkeys and dolls, one by one. It was as if he was orchestrating a non-stop, continuous, magical moment of Christmas. From the looks of it he was the maestro of a Christmas melodic menagerie.  His eyes reflected his enjoyment and merriment. In truth, I wondered as to when the store’s management would come and quietly escort him out the door.  But for those few minutes I stood in glorious wonderment as he created a moment of JOY.    

      Yes, there were those who looked at him a bit oddly and quickly walked away.  Some paused, watched, smiled and giggled at him, as well. A few of his onlookers seemed to wish they could join in the fun.  One grumpy woman looked annoyed. I could almost read her thoughts: ‘so childish!’  I smiled watching a little child stand mesmerized as Rick moved from one toy to another, perhaps thinking, “don’t you touch.”  Rick chuckled as he continued to circle the display enjoying the spontaneous wave of melodies.   

     Upon noticing my observation, Rick looked a little sheepish and quickly stopped.  His greasy grin however, radiated victory.  He had clearly seized a moment to spread some holiday fun. 

     I think I will forever delight with the sound of music boxes, and dancing monkeys. It’s not every day you find a person who is a JOY MAKER.  

     On occasions I may act a touch embarrassed by his unusual antics and ability to create odd and unique moments, sometimes even to the point when I must declare, “He’s just kidding!”   I am grateful for his ability to generate smiles, lots of them.

     Like I said, Rick is a JOY MAKER.  For years now I have awakened to a man who came wired to be just that.  Thankfully, he is well balanced in so many areas of his life. He is grounded in his love of the Lord and serving others.  I have watched him both near and far and truly sense that he is squeezing the most out of each and every day. 

    He realizes:  

                       “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass,  

                        it’s about learning to dance in the rain.” 

      

Or how about this thought, as it truly applies to my JOY MAKER

 of a  husband.  

                        “Life is not about making others happy.   

                 Life is about sharing your happiness with others.”       

    We are taught, “Man is that he might have joy.”  Might is the heavy, operative word, a word filled with choices. It is an opportunity, a chance for all of us, no matter our position in life, our wealth, or social status to find and choose JOY.  I have discovered that practicing the attitude of joy must be practiced in order to become a habit.  I believe with full heart that our Father in Heaven wants us all to be surrounded with joyful moments.   

      So, go ahead push that button, dance to that song, laugh, blow on a baby’s belly, paint the room shocking pink, wear purple, leave a kiss mark upon a window pane, doodle in the margins, make bubbles in the bathtub, splash in a puddle, scream out loud: “I love you!” Eat pizza for breakfast, make a snow angel, become the next JOY MAKER, just because you can.   

       It’s alright to say, “Move over Rick! . . as  I know he is more than happy to share in the fun.  

Enjoy your Sabbath Day!  

Love to all, 

Shauna

                           Within His  Hands

by Shauna Brown 

     Years ago I took a sculpting class. I have always marveled how one can take a piece of clay and fashion it into a sculpture that reflects beauty, and emotion.  

    The class was taught by Karl Quilter. Karl Quilter, passed away this weekend. Many people have never heard of him, but they would definitely recognize his work. He is famous for sculpting the Angel 

Moroni statues that sit atop most of the temples of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints. At this time of year his white nativity scenes are displayed at many of the temples He truly was a master artist.   

    My love of sculpting was short lived. Little children’s fingers 

certainly can’t be trusted around soft clay. Even though I placed my piece high upon the piano, I soon discovered I too had artisans living within my walls.    

     Once a week my friend Elaine and I would travel to Karl’s beginner’s sculpting class. I was eager to learn, as I purchased all the necessary supplies and tools. I loved working with my hands. There is something of an art to clay. I have great memories of that experience. There was session I shall never forget when I questioned all of my time, effort and ability.  

    My focused piece was sculpting a bust of my little daughter Brittany. I was delighted as her form and features were beginning to be realized. I had carefully figured dimensions, and proportions. I was excited that it was going so well.  Karl came to my table to review my piece.  I was hoping for a compliment, or at least a word of encouragement.  Holding a photograph of her next to my clay figure. He stood quiet. Then to my surprise and shock he quickly took his fingertips and drug them across my sculptured face leaving a distortion of clay for a head.  Just thinking about it makes my eyes bulge, not nearly as wide as then, but close.   

    “Do it again,” he said calmly.  My heart beat sadly, as I set to start over. A touch of discouragement filled my soul.  Where I thought I was putting on the finishing touches, I was now literally starting again. For days I didn’t even touch it.  

    I have pondered that breath taking experience many a time.  I  was at first crushed by Karl’s insensitivity to my young and budding talent.  But with time I have come to realize he was the master, trying to instill within me the desire to become even better.  

     While reading the book, Mere Christianity, by C.S. Lewis,  I was taken with the comparison:   

     “Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”  

      Each of us are sculptors. We may not be working with clay, but lives are being molded by our very actions, words and examples.  We must be wise and discerning as to the impressions we leave upon tender clay.  

         Enjoy your Sabbath. 

Stand Tall • Strive Daily • Seek for the Best • 

     

Love always, 

Shauna