Sunday, March 31, 2013

Don't Forget Gethsemane

Don't Forget Gethsemane

A week of glory, and a week of infamy and shame
Began as on a donkey’s back, rode He of Jesus name.
Triumphantly along the street, with throngs cheering His way,
Into the Holy City rode the King, the Light, the Way.
And those events which followed made dramatic history;
And of one them-- not the least of them, was in Gethsemane.
Yes, Gethesemane! The garden on the hill,
Where Jesus knelt to plead and pray and do His Father’s will.
He had cleaned out the temple of the moneychangers den
Preached unto the masses, irked the Pharisees again.
Next, gathered twelve around Him in an upper room’s recess,
The sacrament’s bless’d emblems shared, washed feet, his friends caressed.
Now, to the Mount of Olives, beginning agony—
Jesus prayed, wept, sweat, and bled, in old Gethsemane.
Gethsemane? Gethsemane—the garden on the hill,
Where Jesus bled from every pore, doing His Father’s will.
For there He was, leaving his apostles.  Now alone,
This perfect sinless being knelt, approached His Father’s throne
He prayed, “Thy will be done,” and all our sins He took away—
Though scarlet now, if we’ll repent, they’ll be white as noonday!!
Yes, agony supreme our Lord endured for you and me,
Upon the cross, but perhaps even more, there, in Gethsemane
It was at Gethsemane, that garden on the hill
Where Christ atoned for all our sins, doing His Father’s will.
Swiftly came betrayal, trials, scourging, crown of thorns,
The crucifixion, burial--then dawned the “Morn of Morns.”
How glorious the tidings angels told to Mary, “Dear,
Why seek ye here the living?  He’s risen—He’s not here!!”
What wonderment, what joy the resurrections brings to me,
But still this thought comes back: “Please don’t forget Gethsemane!”
Gethsemane, Gethsemane!! The garden on the hill.
Where Christ atoned for all our sins, and did His Father’s will.
   --Jay M. Richardson

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

The geneological father of every Flake in the U.S.

     Throughout history the Flakes have shown an almost stubborn conviction for personal ideals and beliefs.  This quest, quite simply, started with Samuel Flake in approximately 1700-1802, the genealogical father of literally every Flake found in the United States today.  Samuel Flake started this tradition by becoming a North Carolina Regulator; the Regulators were considered insurrectionists and vigilantes by the British governor of the time, William Tryon.  Samuel, along with several others, signed a petition of grievances against the British that would nearly cost him his life after the insurrection was put down in the battle of Alamance May 16, 1771.  Paradoxically, Samuel's religious beliefs would later land him in jail, labeled a turncoat, after the Revolutionary War.  But in the end he would be respected and revered for his personal convictions and willingness to stand up for his beliefs.  Ironically the great grandsons of Samuel Flake would again demonstrate this stubbornness and conviction in two dramatically different ways.  William J. Flake, along with his father, would carry his name and faith west with the Mormon Church, while Elijah W. Flake would carry his conviction sand beliefs to two of the most famous battles in civil war history.  In my blood and all the other descendents of Samuel Flake courses the same steadfast determination that has carried our name for 300 years of American History  --Faith Morph

Monday, March 18, 2013

Remembering Grandmother Flake: Irene Flake

Written by Lavona Flake Richardson, daughter of Irene Flake. 

I have so many memories of my mother that it is hard to get them on paper.  These are in no particular order but just as I think about them.  

    The great love that Daddy and Mother had for each other and the joy they had being together.  They liked to go on trips together and my memories are that Daddy always came first in her life.  Mother always did everything she could to make Daddy happy—fixing special meals when he had stomach problems, traveling with him, being his scribe, etc.  · 
   Mother was a great helper to Daddy when he served as Bishop—she helped with tithing settlement from the big desk in our living room, gave parties to the servicemen when they came home on furloughs, etc. 
   Mother had several businesses that she ran from our home where she could first be our Mother and then add to our family income and give service to others—bookstore, picking up and delivering dry cleaning, writing for the newspaper, ordering movies for the twice weekly ward theatre, etc.  · 

   Mother was always interested in our activities—I remember all her help           when I was married and coming back to Chicago to help our when my first baby    was born.  She was always there for all of us when we needed her. 
  Mother was the one that wrote us each week while we were on a mission, at BYU, etc.  Daddy would sometimes tell her to tell us something but she was the one that kept the correspondence going. 
 Mother and Daddy came and picked all of us up from our missions when we had successfully fulfilled our missionary assignment.  They let us know how happy they were that we had served well. 
 One of the biggest motivations that I had to do well was the motivation to make my mother proud of my activities.  I always enjoyed reporting in to her and wanted to make the report a good one.   Even  at 95 years of age she was interested in each one of her children, grand children and great grandchildren.  She knew each one of us and our activities.  She loved to visit about what we were all doing.    
 Mother had a keen mind—just a month or so before she died she was saying the Articles of Faith and naming the presidents of the church.  She would go down listing all her grandchildren and great grandchildren and knew them all by name.  She graduated top of her class out of High School and in those days not many went on to college.  She worked hard at NAU to put herself through to get her teaching certificate.  
 Mother was a people person.  She had lots of friends and always remembered what they were involved in and would visit with them about their interests..  She knew everyone.  I could ask her about anyone and she would know if or how they were related and their interests, etc.  
Mother loved the temple.  She enjoyed her temple friends and being involved.  She especially liked to help with the new brides. and liked to help with the temple weddings of her daughters and granddaughters. Even though she didn’t speak Spanish she learned the temple ceremonies in Spanish and made lots of friends with the Mexican people that would come to the temple.  
 Mother loved books.  She enjoyed her home bookstore and always provided good reading material for all of us as we were growing up.  Whenever I had been away from home for a length of time one of my first stops upon returning home was to see what the new books were and made plans to read them.  ·
 I can remember of always having family prayer as we were growing up and home night before it was promoted by the church.  I remember cookouts on the hill, taking lunch to the cowboys, performing for the family in the “lodge”, etc.  ·        Christmas and Thanksgiving were big holidays in my growing up years.  The races to the tree have been carried down to our children and grandchildren.  I remember the big Thanksgiving dinners.  

Mother was a good cook.  She made great rolls, pies, carrot pudding and cinnamon rolls.  ·        I remember the Saturday night cinnamon rolls after the house was clean and ready for Sunday and we had our Saturday night baths and maybe a movie at the ward movie theater. I remember coming home to the aroma of freshly baked bread. 

 Some of my family have commented that I am looking more like my mother every day.  This is to be a great compliment.  My hope is that I can live my life so that Mother and Daddy will be happy with my activities and that I can endure faithfully to the end of my life like they did and that all of our posterity will honor their name and their lives by the way they live their lives..  Thank you Mother and Daddy for your great example and for the opportunity we have now to celebrate your 100th birthday anniversary.  

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Retry on prison photo of William Jordan Falke

This is displayed in the Yuma Arizona Territorial Jail Museum.

Entering the Army

Entering the Army

by Jay M Richardson

     Following my graduation from college, Uncle Sam (US Army) demanded that I spend two years in the army.  I rode a bus from my home to the Army Base in El Paso, Texas in the summer of 1956.  To my surprise as I was coming in to the sign-in, I ran into my best friend from college, who was also being drafted.  He had arrived there two days earlier, but for some reason they had not yet assigned him to report to the Army Base.  We therefore were able to report together and then spend eight weeks together during basic training at the Base.  

     What’s more, it happened that one of the chaplains was a Mormon and when he learned of me and my buddy, he received permission for us to ride with him from the Army Base to the middle of El Paso for church meetings for a couple of weeks, and the rest of the time to go to church on our own.  We were the only Mormons in our company and were the only ones of the company that got to leave the base. At the church we also found several relatives and friends. What a blessing!  I am sure Heavenly Father was looking out for us.