YOU ARE THE
VISITOR SINCE MAY 14, 1997
MESA, ARIZONA TEMPLE
LIFE IS FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH PRAYER
RUTHEE! AN ARIZONA GRANDMA LIVING IN PHOENIX
I Was Born in California on Oct. 17, 1932. Grew Up In a Small Town in Utah and Graduated from High School, Went On To The University of Utah as a student nurse, but was unable to finish due to my own health.
Most of My Church Callings Have Been As a Choir Member and Soloist, and Chorister In Almost Every Department in the Church. Besides Raising Four Children, I Worked Many Places In Accounting and Bookkeeping For Many Years. In 1979 I began Working For The Phone Company In Salt Lake City, Utah. I Transferred To Denver, Colorado, Then Later Transferred to Tempe, AZ. I Retired From The Phone Co. After 15 Years And now Live In Phoenix, AZ. I've Lived In Six States And Two Other Countries. I Was Married and
Divorced Twice Before Marrying My First Love From My Home Town.
appiness is something you create in your minds,
Not something you search for but can't seem to find,
Not something that's purchased with silver or gold,
Not something that force can capture and hold,
It's just waking up and beginning each day
By counting your blessings and kneeling to pray,
It's giving up thoughts that breed discontent
And accepting what comes as a gift heaven-sent.
It's giving up wishing for things you have not
And making the best of whatever you've got,
It's knowing that life is determined and planned
And that God holds the world in the palm of His hand.
And it's by completing what God gives you to do
That you find contentment and happiness too.
"A Mother's Temple"
Builder builded a temple;
He wrought it with care and skill.
Pillars and groins and arches,
All fashioned to do his will.
And men said, as they saw its beauty,
“It never shall know decay.
Great is thy skill, O builder!
Thy fame shall endure for aye!”
A mother builded a temple
With infinite loving care,
Planning each arch with patience,
Laying each stone with prayer.
None praised her unceasing effort,
None knew of her wondrous plan.
For the temple the mother builded
Was unseen by the eye of man.
Gone is the builder’s temple,
Crumbled into the dust;
Low lies each stately pillar,
Food for consuming rust.
But the temple the mother builded
Will last while the ages roll,
For that beautiful unseen temple
Held a child’s immortal soul.
-Hattie V. Hall
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