"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails.
I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp.
I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children.
I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden.
I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.
I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."
— Marjorie Pay Hinckley

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Tiny fisherman

So with a daddy who is addicted to fishing we had to get the kids their own fishing poles. We got them some pretty nice ones at walmart for $12.00. Then for Easter gramma Cherie and granda Russ got them poles that they can "play" with. Trevor loves his so much he fell asleep holding it.

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