24 Days of Thanksgiving - Day Twenty-One

My life has been a fairly easy one. That's not to say that I've never had trials, because of course, everyone does. But mine have never been so unbearable that I couldn't handle them. And while I know that this is partly because none of my trials have been a very big deal, I also know that this is partly because of the way my parents raised me.

My parents raised me to have a strong testimony of Heavenly Father, and His Son, Jesus Christ. Because of the faith they instilled in me as a child, I have a personal relationship with God as an adult. I know without a doubt that I can rely on God no matter what my struggles are, and He will give me the strength I need to get through them.

My parents had a framed poem in their home that I'm sure most of you are familiar with. It's called "Footprints in the Sand." For those of you who don't know it, here it is:

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord,

“You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”

The Lord replied, “The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.”

- Mary Stevenson

Now, I don't know for sure if this is the exact version that hangs in my parents' home (apparently there are three versions), but the story is the same in all three. 

And it gets me every time.

I can't remember a time when I didn't know this poem and the message in it. It's been hanging in my parents' house for as long as I can remember.

Along with that, there have always been pictures of the Savior, temples, and other things that remind people of God displayed in my parents' home.

My parents created a little piece of heaven on Earth, and that's where they raised my siblings and me. They surrounded us with reminders that we were God's children, and that we could turn to Him with any problem, big or small. 

And my parents not only taught us through our environment, they taught us through their own wonderful examples.

I literally believe that I have the very best parents in the existence of ever. There is almost nothing I would change about them. Are they perfect? No. Nobody is. But they're about as close as it's possible for mere mortals to get. 

My father was a perfect example, for me, of what a man is supposed to be. I watched the way he treated my mother, and knew that that was what I wanted in my own husband. 

Father-of-the-bride and matron-of-honor
hangin' out at my sister's wedding.

My dad truly believes my mother is the most gorgeous woman on the planet. He adores her. When I was younger, I would always act disgusted when my parents showed any kind of affection in front of us, but really, I was proud that my parents were so in love with each other. And, as the years have gone by, I've become even more aware of just how much they really do love each other. My dad has frequently "confided" in me about just how gorgeous my mom is, probably because he can't help but brag about his wife. 

Is it any surprise that I married a man who's a lot like my own dad? What woman wouldn't want to be adored like that?

On top of that, my dad was wonderful with me and my siblings as well. I can't even count the times he made me laugh, or called me "sweetie," or bought us a treat at the grocery store "just because." 

Wise man say, "Bring underwater camera to family reunion,
create many goofy memories!"

He was also my role model for what a husband should be when it came to fulfilling his calling as a priesthood holder. 

Dad always took charge when it was time for family prayer, or family home evening. Even when the kids were being grumpy or difficult, he made sure we got it done. And I know we were better because of it.

He was always willing to give us a blessing as well, any time we needed one. I got a father's blessing every year when school started. And I know that those blessings helped give me the courage to face the school year  more than once. 

How Ben ever worked up the courage to ask for my hand,
I'll never know.

One of my very favorite memories of my dad, though, is from my wedding day. 

We were at the reception, and my dad and I were performing the traditional daddy-daughter dance. The song was "Butterfly Kisses," and I knew that I would probably cry. But my mom was hovering nearby with a camera, just waiting for the waterworks to start, so my dad and I agreed that we would try to thwart her by keeping our emotions in check.

Near the end of the dance, my dad told me, "I always hoped that you would find a man who would love you as much as I love your mom. I'm so happy that you have."

And that did it. We both started crying like babies. My mom had put away her camera by then, though, so we still managed to thwart her. ;)

I love my dad so much. Until about seven years ago, he was the man in my life, and that's not something a girl just forgets. My dad is one of the most incredible people in the world, and I'm so blessed to be his daughter. 

My dad is a pretty fantastic Gaffer, too!

No man is complete without a partner, though. Ideally, his partner is one who makes him his very best self. And my dad's perfect partner came in the form of a beautiful, loving, gentle angel. 

I call her "Mom."

Isn't she beautiful?

My mother is who I want to be. On TV, people always laugh when a character does something crazy, then says, "Oh no! I'm turning into my mother!!!" But honestly, if I turn into my mother, I'll be totally proud. 

My mom is my hero. I cannot remember a time in my life when she didn't treat me with love and kindness. That's not to say she never got mad at me. But when she did, it was totally justified. Every punishment she doled out to me was because I had a lesson that I needed to learn in order to grow. 

And often, especially as I got older, the greatest punishment came from the disappointment in her eyes when I made a bad decision. I hated to see her look disappointed. It was agony. I loved my mom so much, that I just wanted her to be proud of me all the time. Unfortunately, I wasn't always worthy of it. What teenager is? But even during those moments when she was disappointed in me, I knew that her disappointment came from her love. She knew what I had the potential to achieve, and to be. She knew that I was capable of more. Even now, she sees more greatness in me than I'll ever see in myself. 

Reading "Too Many Daves" to her nieces, nephew, and granddaughter

My mom always filled our house with warmth, love, and good smells. We always had family dinner together. Now that I'm a mom myself, I realize what a Herculean task that must have been for my mother. There are many days where I just don't have it in me to cook a meal and have it ready at a decent time for my family. We often end up eating grilled cheese and applesauce. But that was never the case when I was growing up. No matter what my mom was dealing with in her day-to-day life, we almost always had a hot, home-cooked dinner together. 

Those dinners together brought us closer as a family, too, I believe. We were able to get together every day, talk about what was going on in our lives, and laugh together. And even when we were cranky, or being forced to eat something we didn't like, we couldn't deny that our food was made with love. And we were grateful for that love.

Three generations enjoying Disneyland together

It's difficult to explain how great my mom is with examples like "home cooking" and "well-deserved punishments." I don't feel like I'm doing her justice. I suppose anyone who's had a mom like mine will understand, though. 

Joseph, Evie and Mom. They're such good sports. :) 

One last note about my mom: she's totally, awesomely, hysterically weird. I mean, she and my dad would both almost have to be, considering how my siblings and I all turned out. But truly, she's delightfully weird. 

I remember seven years ago, I was home for Christmas. "Home" at the time was Bucharest, Romania. I was engaged to Ben, and feeling generally giddy. My sister and I started joking around with each other about whatever we were doing at the time. 

"That looks weird." 

"You look weird!" 

"Your face looks weird!" 

Right around then, my mom popped into the kitchen and announced, "Your mom's face looks weird!"

Yeah, she's rockin' that hat.

She's awesome. :) I think that pretty much clears things up on that subject, right?

To sum up: I, Cassie, have been blessed with goodly parents. I seriously cannot imagine anyone having better parents than my own. I feel bad for all the people in the world who don't have my parents, my own child included (she gets to have them as grandparents, though, so I guess she'll be all right). I'm sure that lots of people have fantastic parents - my husband, for example, has phenomenal parents! - but still. 

Mine are the best. 

I love you, Mom and Dad. 

Mom, Joseph, Lyssa, Dad and Evie at our family reunion in Park City