12 Jan 2025, Sunday

 12 Jan 2025, Sunday

Prioritized Daily

Baylen Johnson's 22 Birthday

10:15 am - McAlpin's Abbington Memory Center Church

Debbie and I were up at about 7 am.  We had prayer and got ready for church at Abbington Memory Center.  The 39th Ward provided priesthood and music.  Lee Barrus, the Elder Quorum President, conducted.  He told a story about his grandmother when she was a young girl and her mother was very sick. They were very poor with little to eat.  Her mother wanted some canned peaches.  After church services Debbie and I attended Priesthood and Relief Society Meetings in Lehi 7th Ward. I saw and talked to Brother Gary Pyne, Stake High Councilman, about the need for sacrament cups at Abbington Memory Center.  Brother Darrell Harmon is the Stake High Councilman who now has the responsibilities for the memory center but I saw Brother Pyne at church today.  I asked him if he would make sure the memory center has sacrament cups for the sacrament.  They are almost out, maybe cups for two more weeks.  Debbie and I came home after church, and I shoveled snow off our drive, and Debbie fixed lunch/dinner for us.  I studied scriptures and listened to some Come Follow Me.  I called and talked to Michael, who was traveling for his company and was in Texas.  Autumn is with her brother Cameron, who is in the hospital with cancer.  His wife Cindy's mother passed away last week, and Autumn is in Oklahoma helping Cindy and watching their children.  I could not get Matthew, Beth, or Rae Lynn.  I left voice messages for them.  I read and studied the scriptures and the writing of the apostles and prophets.  Later Debbie and I had prayer before going to bed.

Note: Lee Barrus                                                                                       The mother in this story is my great, great grandmother Margaret Eliza Utley. She was born in Alabama and this story took place about 3 miles west of Ophir Utah. The stone foundation of the home this story happened in, is still standing. This event happened about 1887. The girl in the story is Maggie Belle Tolman, Margaret's youngest daughter.

"My dear mother was ill. She had been for days, unable to eat anything. It grieved me very much. I so wanted always to see her well and happy. When she was depressed, I was depressed also.

When she was sad I, too was sad.

This was a lonely Sunday. No churches or Sunday Schools to attend. I had never been inside of a Sunday School. It was about time for dinner. Mother seemed a little better that day and I was so glad. I went into her room and asked her what she would like to eat. "Well dear", She answered, "I don't have much choice. If I eat, I will have to eat just what is on hand".

We lived about ten or twelve miles from a store, and driving a team that distance was a full day's job, sometimes running way into the night. We were low on groceries at this particular time. We always bought our canned goods in cases- sometimes several cases of tomatoes, corn, etc., at a time. At this time, we did not have much of anything left in the cellar except tomatoes. Mother was so sick of tomatoes. She told me what she would rather have than anything else-if she could have it. She thought a moment, then said, "If I could really have what I want most it would be some good cold peaches fresh from the cellar. "

Then she laughed as she added, "I guess I'll just try to imagine the tomatoes are big juicy peaches and let it go at that."

The cellar was under Mother's prayer room, over at the bunkhouse. I well remember how hot it was, and what a temptation it always was to linger in the cool dark cellar when I was sent for things; sometimes I was scolded for taking so much time on these errands.

Before going into the cellar, however, I made my way into the little back bedroom where I was born-the room my mother always used to go into for prayer. I knelt beside the bed and told the Lord in my own simple way what a wonderful mother I had and how I wanted to bring her some peaches for her dinner. I arose, happy in the trusting faith-or shall I say knowledge-that my prayer would be answered.

I walked into the cellar and lighted a candle that I might be able to see better. There was one open tomato case sitting on top of a full case. With great effort I lifted off the top box. I took a hammer that was lying on the table and with much lifting and banging I tore loose one board from the heavy wood case. I lifted out one can-about in the center of the case-then lifted out another can form the bottom layer. I ran like a wild child, back to the house. I knew that inside that can that I carried-with the red tomato picture on it-would be luscious yellow peaches.

I rushed in, all excited. "Mother," I cried. "I've got your peaches." "It looks very much like tomatoes to me", added Aunt Laura Tolman. Aunt Laura was our hired girl at that time.

I don't care what that picture says, "I assured them, "They are peaches!" "Bless your heart, "Mother added. "We'll imagine they're peaches and eat them anyway. "

I rushed for the can cutter. I jabbed the blade into the can and golden peach juice oozed out. I took my finger and tasted it. "Oh, Mother-The Lord did hear my prayer." I cried. "They are peaches."

When I carried a big dish of the golden fruit to her bed, with some toast, she took me in her arms and wept and asked me what I did to get the peaches. I told her of my prayer-and my effort to lift the heavy case and open the other one, and how I discarded the first can and took the second one.

After I left the room Aunt Laura said, "Well, they just made a mistake when they labelled the cans. Isn't it strange it should happen just that way? Mother said to her, "Yes, it's pretty strange. In all my life I never found peaches in tomato cans. And that she should open another case and select a certain can. I know the Lord heard her prayers and guided her hand to that one can.

And don't tell me differently." Mother was up and dressed when I returned some time later. "Your peaches cured me, darling." She said as she hugged me to her heart."

*The resurrection of Jesus makes all other stories probable.

History itself is incapable of proving a miracle.