Thursday, December 6, 2012
I'm not the world's best blogger, but I've attempted to post the pictures I took of people receiving their quilts, etc., and a couple with some boys in Cherry Creek with their quiet bags. Those work like a charm, by the way. We had 88 people attend church in Eagle Butte a couple of weeks ago, and the kids were reverent!
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
We had a neat experience the other night of a lady at our 12-Step meeting feeling the Spirit when Elder Hunt gave her a blessing of comfort. She said she had a warm feeling all over. I've never had someone, who knows nothing about our church, describe feelings I've been taught to recognize my whole life. I know this church is true and am so grateful for the gifts of the Spirit.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Come to the edge.
No, I'll fall.
Come to the edge.
No, I'll fall.
Come to the edge.
So I came to the edge,
And you pushed me,
And I flew.
I loved his follow up statement, too. He said you have to go to where the miracles are. That's how I feel out here. You're not going to experience miracles sitting home in your easy chair, flipping through tv channels. Don't you ever wonder how Pres. Monson has so many neat stories? He goes to where the miracles are.
When Jeff was in Takini on Monday, a woman flagged him down. Actually, she was a member we'd been trying to contact. She said she wanted to come back to church, but she needed a new windshield in her car. He went out to check, thinking it was cracked, or maybe even had a hole in it, but no, there was no windshield. A legitimate beef in 30 degree weather. We went back the next day to visit her, but her son answered the door, and was obviously drunk. He said she was taking a shower, and we were afraid that maybe she was drunk, too, so wouldn't come to the door. She called us the next day, though, and said she'd left when he'd started drinking 'cause it wasn't safe to be there, so that was a relief. She also told us she'd found a windshield she could afford, and had borrowed money from relatives to buy it, but it was in Pierre, and she had no way to go get it. That's 90 miles away from where we are, and we've been bleeding money like we cut an artery, so we didn't really want to make that trip again, and weren't sure we could fit a windshield in our car, anyway. But it just so happened that there was a young man up here from Pierre who went on splits with one of our elders just that morning, and he was about to head back to Pierre. And he had a truck. And he was coming back the next day. Coincidence? I don't think so. To top it off, a woman we'd never met knocked on our trailer door as we were about to head out to visit people again, so we had her come in and visited with her instead. When the young man from Pierre came over and we were trying to figure out where this windshield place was, she just happened to know exactly where it was, 'cause she'd lived right by it. So cool.
That evening we were trying to find more people to visit, but no one was home, so we finally gave up and went to the Lakota Mart (grocery store) to buy some ranch dressing, and there was a sister from our ward standing there between the double doors of the store. She didn't have enough gas to get home, and didn't know what she was going to do, so Jeff was able to follow her over to the gas station and help her out with that (I swear, these people never look at a gas gauge!) The ranch dressing was too expensive there, so she must have been the reason we went.
Today we drove around all afternoon looking for one of the little widows in the Eagle Butte branch. We finally gave up and went to visit another sister instead. She happened to know where the widow had been moved to, so we went and found her, and she was sitting in her wheelchair in this house with no heat, no furniture, no dishes or pots and pans, just trying to keep warm. She told us she'd been praying all afternoon and knew someone would come. Jeff bought a propane heater for our car a while back in case we ever get stuck somewhere, we won't freeze to death, so we were able to take that over, along with some other supplies. And the branch Welfare meeting was tonight, so Jeff was able to apprise the President of the situation.
Go to where the miracles are. Heavenly Father is aware of his children. He just needs our hands to help bless them. I'm so grateful to be part of this great work.
Bro. and Sis. Hunt
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The Hunts have a game they call “Deer.” It is a campsite version of “Hide and Seek.” One person is the hunter and carries a flashlight. Everyone else are deer, and hide in the woods. When the hunter shines his flashlight on a deer and identifies him or her, they become a dog and must help the hunter find the other deer. The dogs, however, are only allowed to bark. They can’t talk, shout out names, or use any other forms of communication to indicate when they’ve been successful in locating a deer.
This was my first experience with the game, but I was gung-ho, ready to make my mark and impress my future husband with my prowess. I started out as a deer, but unfortunately, was soon located, identified, and transformed into a dog. That was okay, though, I’d be the best darn dog they’d ever seen.
Stealthily, I crept through the bushes trying to locate the hidden deer. Success! I found Uncle Ethan hiding in a thick stand of brush. It was too dark to see him clearly, but he was the only one in the family that big and burly, so I began to bark furiously. Usually, when this happens, the deer bolts and tries to escape, but Ethan just stood there. I was afraid he would try to run, though, so I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him in place and continued to bark, louder and louder, but no hunter appeared. “Yip, yip yip, where’s that darn hunter? Bark, bark, bark …”
Finally, I tired of barking at poor ole Uncle Ethan, who never made a sound, and curiously, never tried to run away. I decided the hunter wasn’t going to show up, so I let go of Ethan and headed back to the campfire. To my dismay, there sat Ethan.
“Ethan, what are you doing here?” I exclaimed.
“Oh, I didn’t play this round,” was his horrifying answer.
“Then who …” I didn’t finish the sentence, and tried to sink down into my chair, but the story was soon dragged from me of what I’d been doing out in the bushes for the past fifteen minutes or so.
It was concluded that I’d accosted a neighboring camper as he’d tried to relieve himself in the bushes. No wonder he didn’t run! This story has probably become legend around the stranger’s campfire as well. I made my mark, all right. But Jeff married me anyway.