Imperials and Sunflowers

Don't worry friends, this is not going to be another Derby night play by play. I will only note that our evening in Preston was profitable, we have another shiny trophy in our room, and that DJ had a real blast beating up his yellow Imperial. (Roo and I picked the color!) Here it is, amongst it's battered comrades, still chained to the trailer awaiting placement in the derby graveyard. Some go there to die (the hall of fame), others to await some summer day of resurrection when they shall be pounded, re-shaped, welded, charged, oiled, and painted anew to battle once more.

We went out to the scrapyard Sunday evening to take pictures of the cars. DJ wanted to document all the twisted metal and mud for his good buddy Bronson Twitchell, far away in South Africa serving the Lord. (But missing all the action.) The girls picked sunflowers. They grow like crazy out there around the junk. Maybe it's all the iron in the soil?

While the girls wandered around the automobiles I was pondering over these words:

"Thou who knowest all our weakness
Leave us not to sow alone!
Bid thine angles guard the furrows
Where the precious seed is sown.
Til the fields are crowned with glory
Filled with mellow ripened ears.
Filled with fruit of life eternal
From the seed we sowed in tears."

We are Sowing, Hymn 216

We sang this in Sacrament meeting after the missionaries spoke. Tis' a fitting narrative to not only sharing the gospel but motherhood, I think.