Four Family History Stories From Grandma Boe

Grandma Boe wrote down stories of family members on your family tree. She will send stories of Great Grandma and Grandpa Boe soon. I will also work with Dad and Grandpa Sweet to put together stories for his side of the family. Print these out and share them with the people you teach when you talk about family history. We love you, Love, Mom ARNOLD NORMAN BOE in his words, as told to Amy Boe While serving on the labor mission in Laie Hawaii we experienced many miracles. One of those is as follows. On the mission we helped build BYU Hawaii, the Polynesian Cultural Center, many chapels and we were assigned to work on the Laie Temple. We always started each work day with prayer. The project was to add air conditioning to the temple. In order to do this we had to dig through tough coral rock in back and underneath the temple. It was slow and difficult because we had to tunnel under the temple, chip out the rock and remove the chips of rock. On one Saturday morning the work was even more difficult because it was raining and the tunnel was filling up with water. So the person down in the hole digging was laying in several inches of water. The water was getting deeper to the point that it was a hazard to be in the tunnel at all. We had decided that we would have to give up working on the tunnel that day and began to pack up our tools. As we did so the rain suddenly stopped. We were surprised to look up and see a circle of blue sky over our heads. There were dark clouds and rain falling on all sides but not on us. As the excess rain water drained into the porous rock, we were able to go back to our work and continue till noon without any rain. On Saturdays we assigned to work till noon. As we left it began to pour down rain at the temple just as it was doing in the surrounding area. It continued to rain throughout the remainder of the day. We felt that the Lord had blessed us so that we were able to do the work that needed to be completed on the temple that day. AMY WILSON BOE I was born on Friday the 13 of June, 1941 in Colonia Pacheco, Chihuahua Mexico. Like eight of my nine older siblings, I was born at home with a midwife and perhaps even my Dad assisting. Friday the 13 was a very blessed day for me. Blessed to be born to such goodly parents who loved me, and loved the Lord and his gospel. My mother told me of a time when I was a baby that she had put me on a blanket outdoors near the clothes line so that she could hang up some clothing to dry. She was able to get part of the clothing hung up when I began to fuss and reached up to her to pick me up. Of course she wanted to get the job done first. But as I began to cry a bit louder she relented and picked me up to take me inside. Later she returned to finish hanging up the clothing when she was startled to see a large rattlesnake on the the very blanket where I had been sitting a short while before. My Mother also told of a time when I was still very little, about 2 years of age. The family was packing up to move from Mexico to a lovely farm in Rainier Oregon. I had been ill so she had me in a bed box near where she was packing. She said she was feeling sad about the move, leaving her home and many wonderful friends. As she walked by my little bed she said that I looked up at her and cheerfully said "count your many blessings". I'm sure that I was just repeating the words of one of my favorite hymns. She said that it changed her mood that day from sadness to gratitude. I find that singing that hymn still lifts my spirits and reminds me to be grateful for all my many blessings, too numerous to count. MARION LYMAN WILSON as told by Amy Wilson Boe My father was a brilliant man seemingly able to do anything he put his mind to. Such as building a chapel, a water wheel, a comfortable home out of adobe brick, a large barn and silo, and a saw mill in addition to being a veterinarian, a blacksmith, a farmer, a bishop, a husband and father, and sometimes even a midwife and dentist. I know that if he had been able to spare the time he would have been an excellent artist. I know this because he was a very good art critic. No artist loves criticism. However, my Dad was my favorite art critic. He supported me in every way he could making sure the I had the supplies I needed, paint, brushes, boards to paint on, and lots of encouragement seasoned with many helpful suggestions. One of my favorite memories is of our Dad taking my sister Frances Rae and me up the grade toward Colonia Pacheco to do paintings of the Pipe Organ Mountain. He would walk back and forth between us praising our efforts and offering helpful suggestions. His suggestions were always right and as I followed them my work benefitted. I preferred his instruction to most of the art professors and instructors I have had. LOUISA MCDONALD WILSON as told by Amy Wilson Boe My mother has been a great example to me. She taught me to pray as a small child at knees. At first she would give me the word to say and then as time passed she would encourage me to say my own word. She often told me that she loved me and was proud of me. As I left for school day each she would remind me to keep a prayer in my heart. My testimony of the gospel and my belief in the power of prayer came mostly from her and her teachings. As a young girl of about 15 years of age I became very ill with jaundice, vomiting and extreme weakness. Dr Hatch came to the house and diagnosed my illness as hepatitis. I became so weak that I could barely walk. I remember as I lay in my darkened room I became aware that someone was there with me. I looked up to see my mother kneeling by my bed silently pleading to Heavenly Father for my recovery. I feel that my recovery had everything to do with her faith and prayers in my behalf. Her testimony sustained me through times when my own testimony was weak. Just knowing that she believed in the truthfulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ gave me strength.