During the boom-town 1950s in Los Angeles, Dona Hansen, the queen of the church Gold and Green Ball, and daughter of a self educated businessman and a most charitable mother, culminated her youth in what she thought would be the crowning event, marriage to a promising man. A short time later while anticipating their first born, her husband left her. She was devastated. “I didn’t think anyone would want to marry a divorced woman with a little son,” she thought. Dona prayed as she always did, was blessed by the prayers of others, and remained “close to [her] Father in Heaven and Savior.” Some time later Dona received a proposal of marriage from a man not of her faith, and she went away to Salt Lake City to consider her future seeking direction in the Temple. She felt inspired to return to Los Angeles. Upon her return, she felt and knew that he was not the one. To her surprise, her fiancé informed her, “I have just met a fellow at church. In fact, he is just what you are looking for.” Driven by the Spirit of the Lord, she stood in church and bore her testimony. Her fiancé and friend Ferril Losee were in attendance. Ferril thought, “She is wonderful but… to good for me.” A short time later, noting the absence of the ring, Ferril asked Dona out on a date. They drove to the beach where, as the sun set upon a beautiful day, the sun rose on a glorious union. Ferril said that he “would be the happiest man on earth if [Dona] would consent to marry him.” Dona knew the Lord was in it, and agreed. (by Kenneth Hardman, adapted from, Losee, Ferril A., The Losee Family History, Ancestors and Descendants of Lyman Peter Losee and Mary Ann Peterson, Nov. 2000, pg. 125-126) #AncestorClips
Dona Jean Hansen Losee – Forever Close to God
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“One day when… 14 years old, I was on top of a load of hay. In crossing over a bridge some of the hay was grassy and moved on me. I put the reins to the horses over the ladder and went back with a pitch fork to straighten the hay. The horses lunged forward and pulled the reins off of the ladder. Then, they ran down a hill, pulling the wagon with them. I could not guide or stop them. They ran faster and faster… I jumped off the wagon which was moving at high speed just before we got to the highway. A big… freight truck… plowed into the side of the wagon. It killed one of the horses and seriously hurt the other…I avoided serious injury… [but] was very sad… I doctored the injured horse every day for about three months. It finally healed. I learned compassion and dependability in doctoring that horse.”
Some major customers didn’t pay; and Glenn’s cabinet business began to fail. Dorothy was very concerned about family bills and groceries. In the 1960’s they built their second dream home, welcomed their sixth child, and served anxiously in church assignments while building a growing company. Not able to focus on her church leadership position, she thought to ask for a release, and find a job. Glenn said, “No.” But her thoughts persisted. She had served well; surely God would not expect more. She couldn’t sleep, she prayed, she cried, and prayed more. She decided to ask for the release the next day. Thinking this choice would relieve her pain, she tried to sleep. “Not so! I turned and tossed and wept some more,” she said. In desperation she asked God, “Isn’t it the right decision?” Immediately, a flickering light in her mind became bright and she distinctly knew her decision was not the Lord’s will. “I did not understand why,” she said, “but I told him I would continue to serve as long as He had need of me…” She then felt peace. She new they would be blessed. Years later she looked back and realized that God new what was coming; what the family needed, and who needed her at that time. Dorothy’s specific fourth year of service was the exact time period needed for God to work miracles through her in the lives of at least two other people. Dorothy’s oldest daughter became deathly ill. The failure of the family business had resulted in a new job for Glenn, and relocation a year later that put the family in proximity to doctors who could diagnose and treat her rare disease.
Cornelius breathed deep and wiped his dusty brow, the rich soil bringing forth its Illinois potatoes and grain on this hot summer day in 1844. All was well; or at least it should have been. Cornelius felt a foreboding as he heard horses and looked up from his work. It was Joseph Smith, his brother Hyrum, and other familiar men approaching slowly. Cornelius ran the Smith farm and recalled many glorious conversations while working side by side with his friend, employer, and spiritual leader.
Phoebe wiped tears from her face as her creek-soaked children happily burst into their small summer home. “Why are you crying,” they asked. Phoebe quickly got them pulling molasses candy as she pushed back on her memories. She was happy with her husband, her children, and her faith, but change was hard. They had joined the Latter-day Saints in England. Back home, Elders had come regularly for cottage meetings, singing songs of Zion. George and Phoebe had a roast feast on the Sabbath, then they would walk up the rolling green pasture amongst the large oaks. As shoe makers he fixed soles and did tacking while she sewed them. He would then walk 10 miles, deliver their work, receive pay, and bring back work for next week. They ate bread and butter, simple black English tea and sometimes bread pudding with sugar and a raisin. Some family members had already immigrated and George had been anxious to take his wife and children. In 1883, they sent little Clara and Lillie to Salt Lake to live with family. A year later, George made the trip. He worked on a farm to earn travel for the rest. A year later, Phoebe set sail with the other 4 and eventually they enjoyed a happy reunion living in 
My great-grandfather William was 11 when his father died, and the English officers came to take him and his four brothers to the poorhouse. “How we clung to mother’s dress,” he said. Isabella was, a little woman. But in faith and work, [she was] a wonder. “Not one of these boys goes,” she said. “Each and everyone will go to Zion.” William had to quit school to sell papers, sweep crossings, and sell milk door-to-door. He worked in a small store, never touching money left laying around by the manager. “I wouldn’t take anything I did not honestly earn,” he said. No one doubted Williams honesty. Encouraged by his mother’s faith and letters. One by one all 7, plus mother made it to the valleys of the Salt Lake. In Utah and Colorado, at age 16 he maintained railroad ties for the Rio Grande, was promoted to surveyor, track foreman, bridge inspector, and conductor, sending every penny he could to his mother while contributing to the college education of his younger brother. On a work assignment he met Rachel Ault at the Cedar Valley station. They later married and ran a boarding house. Self educated, William spoke as though a scholar, brilliant in mathematics. Knowledgeable men often came to him to solve problems. He was happy, shook hands with everyone, did not find fault, and expected his children to respect others, especially their mother, and would not settle for any kind of sloppy job. He honored people, hung photos of servicemen on his wall, and wrote a poem for each funeral in the community. “And my dear loved ones, Lord I pray, protect, direct and guide each day. Dear Lord in truth may I increase, that when my mortal life shall cease, I may be worthy, Lord, with thee, to serve through all eternity.”
“Lillie and the children were still in bed when Will came rushing into the log home, ‘Fire.’ She grabbed the baby and he carried the little girls out just as the ceiling fell on their bed. There was no water system, so it was soon all gone but a few logs. They made a small room out of these logs, shingled it and moved in before winter.” In time the family grew to 9 children, but it would have been more. Two babies died very young, and one daughter, Birdie, died as a young adult. Each loss was painful. Will worked hard. He was kind and loving, singing with Lillie, playing mouth organs with the boys, whistling while he drove horses, thrashed and sacked wheat. Will was generous when he sold his vegetables, and always had time to wrestle with the boys, and play with the children. “Prayers were always said at the table, everyone on their knees by the chairs that had been turned with their backs toward the table… Lillie… taught the parents class in Sunday School.” She worked hard, loved her family, but had her trials. When baby Blanch died, Lillie wrote, “For a long time, I went around trying to do my work and care for the family, but my heart was broken. With the help of the Lord, I overcame it all, and one morning, as I went to the creek to get a pail of water, the gloom seemed lifted and everything seemed to put on a new life. Those beautiful mountains on the west seemed to be so near and the blue sky overhead. I said to myself, ‘You foolish woman, Look up and thank God for all this beauty that you have been so blind to all these days…’ From then on, things seemed to be more to live for.” Lillie outlived her husband by 40 years. Her son said that her beauty was the kind “that emanates from heart to heart and affects the fiber of each and everyone…”
The two-year-old twins, Ellen and William, were excited when the baby came. Olive, was her name. But, 10 days’ later joy was robbed by tears as their mother passed away. William Walker was one of those twins. He was born in the spring of 1870 in Millcreek, Utah to James Craig and Elizabeth Griffiths Walker. Sorely missing their mother, this was a difficult time for the Walkers. The twins were taken in by their mother’s family. Eventually, Will went to live with his older sister, Mary Ann, and he worked in sheep camps as a tender or herder. Raising sheep was a year-round job, shearing in the spring, moving flocks to the mountains in the summer, then to market in the fall. He worked hard and earned a share in a sheep herd. While herding sheep, he no doubt heard of marvels near and far like the typewriter, the telephone, and the transcontinental railroad. It was in fact that railroad that brought the lovely Lillie Clark from far away England. They danced, they courted and they married. William sold his sheep herding share for a ‘wedding stake’ of $200. His first real home was a two-room log hut in the cottonwoods in Salt Lake, with bare floors, a wooden bed with a straw tick, two wool quilts made from his sheep and a companion he loved very much. (To be continued) 
Cheryl Diane Hardman was born in January, 1951. As a brand new baby, she received a blessing by the hand of her father while he was on military training leave, then she didn’t see him again for 16 months while he served overseas for his country. She grew up a bright child. At the age of 3, Knowing that her baby brother loved bananas, Cheryl turned again to the hand of her carpenter dad and said in all seriousness, “Daddy, would you bring home some wood to make a banana tree?” As she grew, Cheryl did what most children did; she rode bikes, got cuts, had stitches, took music lessons, entered science projects and won awards. When older with 5 younger siblings, Cheryl politely told her parents that 6A students, especially the girls, “do not ride their bikes to school anymore. They are too old for that.” As a teen, Cheryl didn’t need to be reminded of homework. She enjoyed classes like typing, seminary, history, English, Spanish, science, and algebra. She even made some of her own clothes. Her favorite TV shows were, The Mouse-ka-teers, and Bonanza. With high hopes, her parents looked forward to great things in life for her. In 1969, fulfilling her college dream, Cheryl slowly developed debilitating symptoms from a disease whose diagnosis evaded doctors until Cheryl could not walk or talk; death was at the door. That year, as mankind overcame great odds and put a man on the moon, Cheryl desperately struggled and with the help of prayers, family, and many doctors, overcame the disease. She finished college, became a teacher, served others with handicaps, married, and raised a great family, thereby touching mankind for good. Thanks Cheryl, you are a great sister.
Typical for men in the depression years, Sid worked at whatever he could to keep bread on the table and a roof over the heads of his growing family. He was a “Jack of all trades,” adept at “making do,” mending with bailing wire, keeping things running. Myrtle and Sidney, served in the community and church and enjoyed the growing up years of their children being “mom and dad” to many, supporting them in their activities, inviting them to their home. This continued with grandchildren. They were protective of their children, who never heard “their dad tell a sexy or off-color joke.” He enjoyed a good clean time and liked to see others having a good time too. He pulled bobsled with his team of horses turning that sled round and round, flipping those kids out in the snow. Sid took his family role to heart; he taught, he loved, he scolded, he played, he supported. He and his sweetheart were always on hand for everything; baseball, wrestling, football, softball, proud of the accomplishments of family members. “Sid’s shop was a place of learning and the boys enjoyed working with him. Grandpa was always fussy about keeping his tools in the right place and taking care of things. So it was with his animals: he followed his dad’s training and always took care of the horses, unharnessed them, brushed them down and fed them before he had his own meal.” He was honorable and endured cheerfully throughout his life, a great example to his posterity. (Adapted by Kenneth R. Hardman from Sidney Lehi Hardman & Myrtle Emily Elton: Their Life, Their Love and Their Family, 1900-1991 compiled by Dorothy Hardman. Photo from family files) 
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