Grandma, I Can’t Find My Shoes!

Grandma Lemmon was an eccentric Character. Many stories are told and retold about her by the family. Most of them designed to poke fun of her. I do not pretend to be an expert on everything about Grandma Lemmon. My interaction with her during my youth was quite limited. I only know what I know about her, and as to those things, I am an expert.
There were those times when her decisions upset me, like in 1963 when I was 6 years old and we still lived in Kearns, Utah. On that evening she was babysitting us kids when a big juicy chilled watermelon was broke out of the refrigerator for desert. My two older sisters were indulging to their hearts content. I came into the kitchen to share in their great fortune. Just as I was about to grab hold of my first helping, she said, “No, No, No, you can’t have any because you’ll wet the bed”. First of all, I had never heard of such a thing. But since there is a lot of “water” in watermelon, I guess it could happen….theoretically. But that was irrelevant, since I was a “big boy” now, and I couldn’t even remember the last time I wet the bed! I was unjustly cheated out of something that I deserved. However, having a resilient spirit, I was not traumatized for life.
Then, a couple of years later, after we moved to Chino, California, she came again to baby sit while my parents were away for the entire week. One interesting thing she did was place a frozen loaf of bread into the oven to defrost. She turned the oven on but didn’t remove the plastic wrapper on the bread. You can guess what happened. She also knocked over the mail box while pulling out of the driveway.
Nevertheless, there were some really good things that came out of that week. Grandma could do something that no one else in the world could do. Make her famous Swedish Pancakes. This must have been an old family recipe from her parents, who joined the Church in Sweden and immigrated to the Utah around the 1860’s. No one has ever made anything like it before or since. We don’t really know how she did it, but they were totally incredible.
One morning, they were flying off the griddle in the most spectacular fashion. There she stood, by the counter with spatula in hand, monitoring our progress and waiting for a sign that there was still room for another. . They weren’t very filling, but that was a good thing! As long as we could down them, the steady stream of “foreign flapjacks” just kept on coming.
It was some sort of very thin crape that was then covered in your favorite topping; peanut butter, jelly, syrup, strawberries, whip cream, chocolate chips, powdered sugar, etc. You were only limited by your imagination. It would then be rolled up like a small burrito and eaten with a fork cutting bit size pieces off from one end and working your way towards the other. Whatever the combination, they would melt in your mouth.
That morning, Tad and Scott Birdwell came to visit from down the street. They too experienced the most remarkable and memorable breakfast that they ever had. I overheard their mother telling mine later that the boys came home yelling “I had one! I had one! I can’t believe it, I had one! She wanted to know what it actually was.
Grandma had bad hearing too. If you were speaking to her and she couldn’t hear you, she would reach into her dress and pull out a brass speaker box. Holding it in her hand, she would extend her arm all the way out toward you and say, “speak into here”. It looked kind of like a transistor radio, except it was metal and shiny. I think she kept it inside her bra. From the Speaker box, two thin wires woven together made their way up past the collar, under her hair, and into the earpiece nestled in her ear. It was the for-runner of the modern hearing aid.
She was also very clean. Any time you would come into the house from outside, she would throw a wet wash cloth into your face and rub it around. It would kind of hurt, especially your nose. It felt like she was trying to rip it off your face. But it felt refreshing when it was all over.
One time, I was watching Saturday morning cartoons. Grandma came into the family room and said “What are you doing watching TV when you bedroom isn’t cleaned, you get up there right now and clean it”. Well, my brother and I had a real hard time keeping the room clean, and that morning I was a real pig sty.
This was very upsetting because I was watching one of my favorites. However, just then, a series of commercials began. I turned off the Television and run upstairs as fast as I could to assess the situation and see what kind of a position I was really in. It looked like a hurricane had hit it. Would there be any way I could create a win-win solution by providing a clean room for Grandma and get back to the cartoons before the commercials were over?
. Suddenly, a stroke of genius came over me. For the next three minutes, I worked like a “mad man possessed”, throwing, cramming, sliding and heaving everything in the room under the bed. Then I made the bed perfectly with out a wrinkle or lump anywhere. I made sure that I had plenty of bed spread left over for the front side of the bed. This way I could drape it all the way over until it just touched the floor hiding the chaotic junk pile underneath. I ran back down stairs, turned on the television, and threw myself back on the couch without missing a minute of the program.
When Grandma came back into then family room and saw me watching television again, she said to “get back up there and finish your room”. I said, “I did”. She started back down the hallway towards my room to see what I had done. I knew there could only be two possible outcomes. I was hoping for the praise and accolades of an Olympic athlete receiving not only high marks for style and skill, getting extra bonus points for level of difficulty, and setting a new Olympic “time” record as well.
As she ascended the eight steps that lead directly to my room at the top of the stairs, I could almost see in my minds eye, her opening the door, exactly at the precise moment she actually did, then shock and amazement coming over her face, followed by disbelief. Then a conclusion formulating in her head based on circumstantial evidence. I think the episode taking place in my mind was almost completely parallel with what actually happened. I could almost count the steps over to the bed. Step 1, 2, 3, 4…. bend over, grab the bed spread, lift it up, verification complete! Turn around, step 1, 2, 3, 4, back out the door, down the stairs, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, back down the hallway, and there she was, turning the corner into the living room. My sense timing was perfect, but my scheme to finish my cartoon program was not.
Amidst these and other memories of Grandma Lemmon, the thing that stands out the most in my mind about her has to do with the subject of Prayer. She used to tell us that after family prayer, we should go to our separate rooms and then have our personal prayer before we go to bed.
On one occasion, during the day, my mother and a few of my brothers and sisters were at Grandma’s house in Salt Lake. This was before we moved to California. I was Five or six years old. We were all walking out the door with our coats on ready to drive somewhere. It seemed like about 11:00 AM. Just then, she says. “Oh wait, we forgot to say prayer”. We all got down on our knees in the living room just inside the front door. I was over by the couch on the west side which was the side where the television was. I remember it like yesterday. Maybe it was because it was so unusual, and so spontaneous.
Until then, all I ever heard during prayer was “Blah, Blah, Blah, Amen”. This time, as I got on my knees, I said to myself, “This is very interesting. I’m going to listen very closely”. This was perhaps the first time I paid close attention to the words of the prayer. It was an incredible prayer. It lasted quite a long time, but I didn’t mind, I was captivated by what she was praying for.
She prayed for the missionaries at home and abroad. She also prayed at length for the service men at home and abroad, that they will be watched over and protected while they are in harms way, and also for their families while they are away on duty. I felt the Lords spirit very strongly.
I can only imagine that this humble, fervent, sincere prayer from a mother’s perspective was the product of a bygone era. Having come from pioneer stock, hardships were a way of life. Having endured the depression, adversity was her companion. Hers was a world where most of our men and women were engaged in a world war against a “mad man” and other evil forces bent on destroying everyone in their pathway towards global conquest and world domination.
In those days of personal and national sacrifice, prayer was a staple of life. It was something that this nation relied on to get us through. It helped us win the war because the hearts of Americans were turned to God. This is the story of the Book of Mormon, relived again in our own day
On another occasion, still a young boy, I was again at Grandma’s house. We were getting ready to go somewhere and everyone was getting ready to walk out the door and get into the car. I was running around the house frantically trying to find my shoes, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. I yelled to Grandma, “I can’t find my shoes!. “Did you pray and ask Heavenly Father to help you find them? she asked. “No”, I said. She instructed me. “Then Go into my bedroom, and close both doors. (One opened to the living room and the other one to the hallway behind it). Then kneel on the floor next to my bed and ask heavenly father to help you find your shoes”.
I did exactly as I was told. I went into her room, closed both doors. Kneeled down and asked Heavenly Father to help me find my shoes. When I was done, I got up and started looking for my shoes. No more then about 15 to 30 second’s passed away and I found my shoes!
It made a big impression on me. Did heavenly father help be find the shoes that I was praying for? Did Grandma Lemmon set me up by planting the shoes where I could easily find them to teach me a lesson about prayer? Were the shoes right there all along and I just didn’t look in the right place? Wouldn’t I have been able to find them eventually anyway if I looked hard enough and long enough? I have spent much time pondered upon these questions. Still today, at the age of 47, as I arise each morning and begin my quest throughout the house in search of where I left my shoes, I am reminded of Grandma’s injunction, “did you ask Heavenly Father?”. This is sound advise for shoes and everything else.
Grandma knew how to pray with “a sincere heart, with real intent having faith in Christ” (Moroni 10:3-5) and with “full purpose of heart” (Jacob 6:5). For her there was nothing worth doing no matter how large or small that did not require the assistance and consecration of the Lord (2 Ne. 32:8-9). She practiced Alma’s advise to “Council with the lord in all thy doings, and he shall direct thee for good” (Alma 37:37) and to “let your hears be full, drawn out in prayer unto him continually for your welfare and also for the welfare of those who are around you” Alma 34:27).
Our last family reunion was held in California. We were there from July 23 to July 31 2004. I was looking at the family history sheet on Grandma Lemmon’s children. Two notable facts stand out. She had a Son named Claude LaMar Lemmon who died at the age of 15 and a little girl, Donna Joy Lemmon who died at the age of 4. No one ever speaks of them much. But, as a detective and a great observer of human nature, I can tell you this, when tragedy strikes, consciously or unconsciously, choices are made inside of a persons heart. I know what choices Grandma made because I know first hand the quality of her prayers. Think about that!
Finally, at 19 years old, on Feb 14th, 1976, I arrived in Salt Lake City and was picked up at the airport by Grandma and Grandpa Lemmon. They took me out to breakfast and then dropped me off at the Mission Training Center. Back in those days it was housed in the big old red brick school house across the street from temple square, we only spent 5 days, from Saturday morning through Wednesday night at this Mission Training Center. Then early Thursday morning, it was straight to the airport and off to our mission assignments around the globe. On Monday, my second day there, I was walking through the church office building towards the cafeteria with the other missionaries when to my surprise I saw Grandma Lemmon. We greeted each other. She told me she was there doing family history research. Time was short and there was so much to do. We said Good bye. It never occurred to me that that would be the last time I would ever see Grandma or Grandpa Lemmon again in this life. Grandpa died just six months into my mission. Grandma followed him a month later.
Her life embodied the grand principle of daily prayer taught throughout the Book of Mormon (i.e. Alma 34: 17-28, Alma 37:37, etc). She reflected the words of the great hymn……
Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer,
That calls me from a world of care.
And bids me at my fathers throne,
Make all my wants and wishes known.
In seasons of distress and grief,
My soul has often found relief.
And oft escaped the tempters snare,
By thy return, sweet hour of prayer.
And oft escaped the tempters snare,
By thy return, sweet hour of prayer.

Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer,
Thy wings shall my petition bear.
To him who’s truth and faithfulness,
Engage the waiting soul to bless.
And since he bids me seek his face,
Believe his word, and trust his grace.
I’ll cast on him my every care,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer.
I’ll cast on him my every care,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer.

I will never forget the kind of person that Grandma Lemmon was and the lesson that she taught me.