Do you promise? Yes, I promise!

I have been thinking about promises lately.

I volunteer at Pima County Jail as an advocate for victims of crime. Within 24 hours of being arrested defendants appear before a judge who reads their case and determines if they will be released on their own recognizance, post bail, or stay incarcerated. If any victims show up to this video court, I let them know what their rights are as victims.

When I'm not talking to a victim I sit in the courtroom (if you want to call it that, it's actually a cafeteria/meeting room) and watch individuals on video camera from the jail while they talk to the judge who is sitting behind the judge's bench a few feet from the room I'm in.

The judge sometimes reminds the defendant that they didn't show up for a hearing that they had promised they would show up for, or he tells them when the next hearing is and he asks, "do you promise to show up?" At which they always reply, "yes sir, I promise I will show up." The judge makes sure they say they "promise." To me, it's almost like a joke.

Because of this exchange I assume saying you "promise" must mean something important. But I worry in today's world it doesn't mean much more than nothing. I've had discussions with those who think the "f" word is just a word, that it doesn't mean anything. Or perhaps even the word "love" doesn't mean anything.

I'm going to change that at least for myself. If I promise something--I will follow through. If I make a covenant, I will keep it.

Tell me what does a promise mean to you?

My Weekend In Oregon

I flew to Oregon on Saturday to meet my two older brothers so we could all attend the oldest brother's 50th high school reunion. We lived in a very small community so his graduating class had only 13 people! Four came to the reunion. The high school and elementary school were all in one building so I knew his and my other brother's friends very well. Everyone gathers on Labor Day weekend in Cascade Locks (40 miles east of Portland up the Columbia River Gorge) for the annual high school reunion and Old Timers picnic. So I got to see a few of my classmates as well. It was really fun seeing old friends and buddies, but the best part was spending the whole weekend with my two brothers and the younger one's wife. We laughed, we cried, we hiked, we ate, we talked and talked. I adored them when I was growing up and I still do!

I grew up living on a fish hatchery. My dad was a fish hatcheryman. This meant living at the end of the dirt road next to a creek (or crick as we called it) out in the country. The fish would make their way up the creek to spawn their eggs and then die! What a way to go!

Louise, Buck and I are standing outside of the little cabin we rented for the weekend. It was perfect and fun!

This is Coach Wayne Sabin. He was my brothers' football, basketball and track coach in 1958-61. I was a fat little grade schooler and had the biggest crush on him (used to save his cigarette butts when he came to visit our family. GROSS, huh!) He is a national champion discuss thrower and taught me how to throw the discus this trip--told me I had potential!

We hiked a 4 mile round trip canyon trail to the Punch Bowl up Eagle Creek. This is my brother Buck who almost died a few years ago from heart failure. He had a heart transplant and the miracle took place.

Buck, Linda, and B.J.

We had the very sweet opportunity to attend the Ward we were members of in the late fifties, early sixties on fast Sunday. I have not been back there for nearly 50 years; it was such a walk down memory lane and to be with my brothers who are a vital part of those memories. One woman came up to me, introduced herself (I did remember her from days past) and quoted something my mother had taught her in a Mutual (YW) lesson. My mother had shared a promise from my Patriarchal Blessing with the class. This sister remembered it right on. After Sacrament Meeting the Bishop called us into his office to tell us what a great influence my oldest brother (they went to college together) and my parents had on his conversion to the gospel when he was a young guy. I was filled with a witness of the marvelous work and wonder performed by my parents. Either I had forgotten or I had no idea, but it was electrifying!

This is Chris Feinauer who was a little boy when I went to church in Hood River, Oregon. His dad was our Bishop sometime way back when, but we became reacquainted years later when he came to BYU and we were in the same BYU Ward. Chris and his family just happened to be visiting the same day we were. They sat behind us in Sacrament meeting and the thought crossed my mind and felt good in my heart that perhaps his mom and dad and mine were sitting together pleased as can be with our little reunion. Hey, maybe they orchestrated it! Interesting fact about Chris is that he was just appointed BYU's Alumni Association President.

This picture just kind of says it all! I jump for joy at the reaffirming, uplifting, testimony building experience I had being with my brothers, seeing old friends, feeling close to my mom and dad, and once again sensing I am loved by a giving Heavenly Father.