When Marjorie was a 12-year-old girl she entered the Beehive class in Mutual.  Each Beehive was encouraged to complete a number of requirements and skills in order to earn “cells” that she could put on her Beehive bandlo.  One of the required skills was to learn how to bake bread.

Marjorie’s Beehive adviser was Sister Guilliam.  Sister Guilliam and her husband owned and operated the bakery.  Marjorie baked her bread, and it turned out so well that her mother told her to give a loaf to Sister Guilliam.  Marjorie didn’t want to do it.  After all, the Guilliams were professional bread bakers.  It would be embarrassing to give her homemade bread.

Zelma prevailed, and a loaf was given to Sister Guilliam.  She raved and raved about it, and was still talking about it many weeks later.  She’d never tasted anything like it.

“It was very reinforcing,” Marjorie said.

What took place here is that the Guilliams knew how to make “boughten” bread that has little taste, body, or nutrition.  It had been so long since Sister Guilliam had tasted homemade bread that she’d forgotten what a treat it was.  Marjorie’s homemade bread was far superior to the daily fare produced by the professionals.

I was reminded of this story as I ate my sandwich at lunch.  I savored every bite.  I’ve been living on Marjorie’s bread for 47 years now.  “This bread is better than the professionals’,” I told her.

That comment set me to thinking.  She’s better than a professional in many fields.  The dresses she’s made for her girls over the years are higher quality, more attractive, and more modest than anything that can be found in a store.  My girls have always looked beautiful.

Marjorie has always been the family barber and hair stylist.  She fixed the girls’ hair every day before sending them off to school.  She has given every haircut that my boys and I have had for the past 47 years.  This alone has saved me tens of thousands of dollars.

Marjorie is a child psychologist and counselor extraordinaire.  She has read books on the subject.  She studies the problem and the “patient,” and then with purpose borne of love she remedies the situation.  Most often the person that she’s helping doesn’t even know that he’s being counseled.  Marjorie probably doesn’t often know that she’s counseling, either.  That’s what makes her better than a professional.  She’s acting out of pure love.  No one can resist such an approach.  No professional counselor could possibly duplicate what she does.

She’s a teacher.  She’s always taught her children.  Not a day went by but what she was reading to her little ones or helping them to learn to read and to write themselves.  She drilled them in their times tables, helped them with their science projects, and patiently got them through their homework assignments despite their own strenuous objections.  But best of all she quietly taught by example.  Consequently her daughters are now her duplicates.

She taught her sons, too.  She would probably tell you that her favorite Church calling was to serve as Cub Scout den mother.  Adam, who now wires complicated pivot controls, claims that he learned everything he needed to know about electricity from his den mother in Cub Scouts.

Marjorie could have been a concert pianist.  She chose instead to use her piano skills to bless her family, the Church, and to teach others how to play.  Teaching others to play is not something every concert pianist can do.  The most expert pianist we’ve known was unable to teach others.  He could play magnificently, but he couldn’t teach.

Marjorie can play magnificently, too.  She can sit down to an unfamiliar piece and sightread it.  Her callings in the wards and branches that she’s been in have most often centered around playing the piano or organ.  But better than that she has taught most of her children to play, and most of the current accompanists in the three Baker wards as well.

Marjorie is better than a professional in many, many fields.  However, the place where she really excels and outdoes all others is in being a wife.  I have the best that’s ever been.