Last night a dear friend said something that resonated all through my body to the soul level. She's currently battling cancer with bone clenching, cell shaking chemotherapy. Having never been ill before in her life she says, "I don't reach out to people because who wants to hear about my sickness, struggles, and sorrow?"
How are you? Are you hiding a houseful of woes behind a cheerful face? In our church everyone smilingly says, "How are you today?" Most of the time they really don't want to know. If they actually DO want to know nobody has time to cry on each other's shoulders. Besides that would make their Sunday clothes soggy!
In Me (soft e sound) he co...as those who speak Espanol call it (I love so many things about that place!) My dear friend tells me (she's from Tampico) that when people ask Como Estas? Which means How Are You? They really, truly want to know the answer. Even if the person is a total stranger. She proved her point to me as she refused to let me be an isolationist neighbor and pretty much dragged me kicking and screaming into one of the dearest friendships of life. I wasn't kicking and screaming because of my beloved neighbor. I was kicking and screaming because of the sorrow, stress, and sickness in my life. She just brushed that aside with a wave of her dainty hand, as you would brush aside a nasty cobweb in your path and insisted on loving me..
Telling the complete truth losing my husband has kicked my booty pretty well. Sometimes the grief is so overpowering that I can hardly hold a two way conversation even with those that I love the most. I cancelled a fun evening with family this weekend because I just couldn't handle the conversation. I wanted so badly to curl up in a corner and cry! I kind of did that for awhile. I wish I could say that it made me feel better, a catharsis...it will only be better when I'm with my honey again. Don't worry, I WILL keep living, and I DO know that in time it won't hurt quite so badly.
Yet, we all need to quit isolating to lick our wounds in private! NOBODY gets better by themselves. Let me repeat that in case any of you were getting bored and drifted off. NOBODY gets better by themselves!!!! We all need a hand up, a hug, an affirmation that we hurt.
There are friends that are "fair weather friends," that will disappear because they are incapable of dealing with the weight and girth of your pain. To my way of thinking they were only friends for the most positive parts of life. We all need friends who can bear it when you're talking about your colon disease, or cancer of the bowel. Get over it already people....life happens! (OK, but maybe not for hours on end the discussion of the sewer parts of our anatomy...everything in balance right?)
SO HERE IS YOUR CHALLENGE FROM ME TO YOU! It's all in caps because I didn't want anyone to miss it :) Today, NOT TOMORROW....today, reach out to someone that you know is struggling. If they start to rant beyond the time that you can spare hug them hard and tell them you'll call in a few days, AND THEN CALL THEM. You can simply NEVER give without getting back much, much more. It may take a few times to get used to the all too human idea that a sorrow shared is contagious. NOPE...here are the Mathematics of love (I wish I knew who came up with this quote, I'd like to thank them), "A joy shared is multiplied, a sorrow shared is divided." So go divide someone's troubles. Don't then take them on your shoulders, for that doesn't help ANYONE. Brush their troubles off your shoulders and then put them in your prayers. I KNOW that there is someone who listens and blesses us through prayer.
I'm going to steal a quote from a man I grew up admiring, Arthur Godfrey, "Goodbye, and God bless."
Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass....it's about learning to dance in the rain!
Monday, October 22, 2012
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Perspective
Perspective, my first experience with it was NOT a positive one. I was in middle school and we HAD to take art. I worked so hard at being an artist. In one of our assignments we were supposed to draw telephone poles that looked smaller and smaller as you looked off into the distance. No matter how hard I worked at it the lines and shapes lay flat on the page. There was no indication of perspective. I did that assignment multiple times....as I did every other assignment in that class. A measure of my artistic ability in the medium of drawing is the big fat D MINUS, that I got. NOBODY got a grade that low in that class. I had NEVER had a grade that low.
I was afraid my parents would be very unhappy with me. They both chuckled, said, "Well the apple didn't fall far from the tree (Whatever the heck that meant, I thought), they signed my grade report and I vowed to NEVER take art again. A vow which regretfully I've kept to this point...that may change, I'm still here!
In that context perspective was the visual image of how things look smaller the further you are away from them, and closer as you move towards them.
That is a very limited definition however. The definition I prefer has nothing to do with art class or that dismal D- which apparently still bugs me....
Tonight, I was having a mini-pity party that may have involved lots of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies from Dick's. (Really I have ALWAYS thought pumpkin chocolate chip cookies were a waste of calories....not at Dick's market they aren't) I was about 4 hours in to various mindless TV programs. I was doing my best to drown out the sorrow that currently resides in my soul 24/7.
My husband died in January. He had come close to death to many times in our marriage of 27 years and I hoped desperately that as always he would bounce back again. Not this time.
To say that I miss him seems so trite. In fact my pain reminds me of that show in reruns "Charmed." There are the good guys, and the bad guys. One of the things that the bad guys do is to reach inside a living person's chest and pull their heart out. Done in a very campy way or I couldn't watch it. (I'm not fond of violence!) Still that image describes how I feel a great deal of the time.
The pain is so extreme that doing much more than eating pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, watching TV, and vegging in my apartment is almost impossible. I do try to exercise, and keep in touch with family.
Back to perspective. So, in full mourning this evening it became aware to me suddenly (by virtue of the dog's panting, and holding his front paws over his privates, OK I may have made some of that up), that it had been a long time since said doggy had been outside to relieve himself.
So grumpily I put on a coat, and proceeded to take the dog out. We were walking along and suddenly I saw a Christmas tree with brilliant red lights. In actuality what I saw was an optical illusion created by a house with lots of windows that had lots of stop lights reflecting in them. Still my breath caught for a moment in my throat. Christmas has always done that to me...reminded me of all that is most precious in this mortal moment.
I saw through the eyes of perspective that this pain will never completely leave as long as I'm separated from my honeybunch. Yet, the severeity of the pain, and the inability of functioning more than partially will improve.
I think tonight I earned a better grade than a D MINUS on perspective....but I think I'll still go eat another cookie, and watch one more show before bed....Hey, tomorrow is a new day! That is also perspective.
I was afraid my parents would be very unhappy with me. They both chuckled, said, "Well the apple didn't fall far from the tree (Whatever the heck that meant, I thought), they signed my grade report and I vowed to NEVER take art again. A vow which regretfully I've kept to this point...that may change, I'm still here!
In that context perspective was the visual image of how things look smaller the further you are away from them, and closer as you move towards them.
That is a very limited definition however. The definition I prefer has nothing to do with art class or that dismal D- which apparently still bugs me....
Tonight, I was having a mini-pity party that may have involved lots of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies from Dick's. (Really I have ALWAYS thought pumpkin chocolate chip cookies were a waste of calories....not at Dick's market they aren't) I was about 4 hours in to various mindless TV programs. I was doing my best to drown out the sorrow that currently resides in my soul 24/7.
My husband died in January. He had come close to death to many times in our marriage of 27 years and I hoped desperately that as always he would bounce back again. Not this time.
To say that I miss him seems so trite. In fact my pain reminds me of that show in reruns "Charmed." There are the good guys, and the bad guys. One of the things that the bad guys do is to reach inside a living person's chest and pull their heart out. Done in a very campy way or I couldn't watch it. (I'm not fond of violence!) Still that image describes how I feel a great deal of the time.
The pain is so extreme that doing much more than eating pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, watching TV, and vegging in my apartment is almost impossible. I do try to exercise, and keep in touch with family.
Back to perspective. So, in full mourning this evening it became aware to me suddenly (by virtue of the dog's panting, and holding his front paws over his privates, OK I may have made some of that up), that it had been a long time since said doggy had been outside to relieve himself.
So grumpily I put on a coat, and proceeded to take the dog out. We were walking along and suddenly I saw a Christmas tree with brilliant red lights. In actuality what I saw was an optical illusion created by a house with lots of windows that had lots of stop lights reflecting in them. Still my breath caught for a moment in my throat. Christmas has always done that to me...reminded me of all that is most precious in this mortal moment.
I saw through the eyes of perspective that this pain will never completely leave as long as I'm separated from my honeybunch. Yet, the severeity of the pain, and the inability of functioning more than partially will improve.
I think tonight I earned a better grade than a D MINUS on perspective....but I think I'll still go eat another cookie, and watch one more show before bed....Hey, tomorrow is a new day! That is also perspective.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
The Beatle's Music is Playing
Nyle my husband, LOVED the Beatle's. He identified with the backgrounds that inspired
them to write, their originality, and knew of all things Beatle. Last year we were able to
go to Europe as a family. There we met with our beloved daughter who had spent a
year earning a Master's at Cambridge.
Going to Liverpool was a MUST for Nyle. We went to the homes where they grew up.
We went to the museum, and took a self-guided tour of Strawberry Fields, and all things
Beatle. Nyle knew more about them then a guide would have known. So as I write this
post I have the Beatle's playing. I will never again hear a Beatle's tune without thinking
of Nyle and his love for their music.
Today was a special parade that my beloved niece and nephew participate in every year
to honor the precious baby that died one hour before she was delivered C-section. Their
day of memory triggered a day of memory of my own.
I combined that desire to memorialize with my desire to climb into the fiery crimson
leaves of autumn. Nyle was an artist who relished beauty. He then would use music,
poetry, or prose to express those feelings. He wrote two books, Flagpole Fighting
and Other Lessons My Mother Taught Me, which was a tribute to his amazing Mom.
He also wrote My Child My Love, which was a delightful fictional tale of why the
Innkeeper turned Mary and Joseph away from the main part of the Inn.
As I walked through the autumnal splendor I thought of my beloved who as long as
I knew him had severe degenerative spinal disease. His back became more twisted
and bent as he grew older. Walking was problematic. To finish his undergraduate
degree in college he would sometimes lie down on the ground and drag himself
to the car. We couldn't afford an electric wheelchair and he had problems with his
arms and neck as well.
As I walked today I rejoiced in my belief that he no longer is bothered by the
struggles he endured physically in this life. In fact I envisioned him darting ahead
of our little doggy and I on the path. I could see his smiling face, and hear him
say to me, "Look at me now, look at this, look how high I can fly!" These images
turned my teary eyes into smiles.
As I thought of my beloved, I also thought of our dear son who was still more of
possibility than a baby when we lost him. I remembered my dear Papa, my
Mother-in Law, (she was more of my "other" mother than in-law), my brother,
and oh so many more. It's getting a little too crowded in the spirit world for
my liking.
My poor little doggy who is 13 and has 6 inch long legs finally sat down and refused
to walk anymore. I picked him up to climb up the last hill and look at the vista
below. As I turned around and started back down I noticed an extremely dead
tree still firmly standing on the crest of a ridge. At first I thought, "Why doesn't
someone chop that thing down before it falls and hurts someone."
Then this little verse rushed into my mind, it was probably Nyle, or my Papa sending
me a happy message, they were both terrific writers.
The tree stood bold on the crest of a hill
All signs of life were still
Yet below deep deep down
It's roots lent strength to the trees around
Those we love that have passed into eternity have strong roots that still help to
anchor us in the rough winds of life. I give thanks everyday for those roots,
for those that as the song says, "I have loved long since and lost awhile." Only
I HAVEN'T lost them....their roots, their love, their ideas still make life a good
place to be.
them to write, their originality, and knew of all things Beatle. Last year we were able to
go to Europe as a family. There we met with our beloved daughter who had spent a
year earning a Master's at Cambridge.
Going to Liverpool was a MUST for Nyle. We went to the homes where they grew up.
We went to the museum, and took a self-guided tour of Strawberry Fields, and all things
Beatle. Nyle knew more about them then a guide would have known. So as I write this
post I have the Beatle's playing. I will never again hear a Beatle's tune without thinking
of Nyle and his love for their music.
Today was a special parade that my beloved niece and nephew participate in every year
to honor the precious baby that died one hour before she was delivered C-section. Their
day of memory triggered a day of memory of my own.
I combined that desire to memorialize with my desire to climb into the fiery crimson
leaves of autumn. Nyle was an artist who relished beauty. He then would use music,
poetry, or prose to express those feelings. He wrote two books, Flagpole Fighting
and Other Lessons My Mother Taught Me, which was a tribute to his amazing Mom.
He also wrote My Child My Love, which was a delightful fictional tale of why the
Innkeeper turned Mary and Joseph away from the main part of the Inn.
As I walked through the autumnal splendor I thought of my beloved who as long as
I knew him had severe degenerative spinal disease. His back became more twisted
and bent as he grew older. Walking was problematic. To finish his undergraduate
degree in college he would sometimes lie down on the ground and drag himself
to the car. We couldn't afford an electric wheelchair and he had problems with his
arms and neck as well.
As I walked today I rejoiced in my belief that he no longer is bothered by the
struggles he endured physically in this life. In fact I envisioned him darting ahead
of our little doggy and I on the path. I could see his smiling face, and hear him
say to me, "Look at me now, look at this, look how high I can fly!" These images
turned my teary eyes into smiles.
As I thought of my beloved, I also thought of our dear son who was still more of
possibility than a baby when we lost him. I remembered my dear Papa, my
Mother-in Law, (she was more of my "other" mother than in-law), my brother,
and oh so many more. It's getting a little too crowded in the spirit world for
my liking.
My poor little doggy who is 13 and has 6 inch long legs finally sat down and refused
to walk anymore. I picked him up to climb up the last hill and look at the vista
below. As I turned around and started back down I noticed an extremely dead
tree still firmly standing on the crest of a ridge. At first I thought, "Why doesn't
someone chop that thing down before it falls and hurts someone."
Then this little verse rushed into my mind, it was probably Nyle, or my Papa sending
me a happy message, they were both terrific writers.
The tree stood bold on the crest of a hill
All signs of life were still
Yet below deep deep down
It's roots lent strength to the trees around
Those we love that have passed into eternity have strong roots that still help to
anchor us in the rough winds of life. I give thanks everyday for those roots,
for those that as the song says, "I have loved long since and lost awhile." Only
I HAVEN'T lost them....their roots, their love, their ideas still make life a good
place to be.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Trial of Ease??
In the scriptures it speaks about a trial of "ease." I've often throught as I've struggled my way through life financially that I would LOVE to try on that particular trial. As I worked full-time until our youngest daughter was four years of age, and then worked full-time and a half as I opened a childcare business, I used to dream of winning the lottery. Imagine never having to work that hard again, I would fantasize.
Getting older brings the gift of perspective. I understand that those times were difficult but they were also rich with stories to tell, lessons to learn, and most especially the unbridled joy of watching our two beautiful daughters grow up, and my beloved husband earn his Bachelor's or Theatre and Film Directing, and then his Legal degree.
I've been in this lovely apartment for two and a half weeks. I still have more boxes than I have spaces, and everyday I empty more boxes, and try to gain more order in my lovely place.
So....I do NOT have billions of dollars, I don't even have a simple million. Still, I have more than enough THINGS to make me happy.
Better than the THINGS, I have a family that I adore, friends that are family, and family that are friends.
One day I was feeling overwhelmed at the task of "downsizing," to a smaller apartment. Then I started to think about some of the people that I saw in Jamaica who lived in cardboard boxes, or huts with a tin roof. Their spaces were about two feet by three feet. Yet those people were smiling. They didn't seem to realize that they were poor. They would say, "Irie," which means basically, "Don't worry, be happy."
There are so many types of wealth. There is obviously financial wealth, but the kinds of wealth that are the more important are the wealth of true joy. That joy comes from relationships, NOT things. Oh trust me, I will always enjoy wearing pretty clothes, and jewelry, but I would give them all up in a heartbeat for any of my beloved friends or family. (Anybody out there need some beautiful women's clothes in a size of 18/20?)
Getting older brings the gift of perspective. I understand that those times were difficult but they were also rich with stories to tell, lessons to learn, and most especially the unbridled joy of watching our two beautiful daughters grow up, and my beloved husband earn his Bachelor's or Theatre and Film Directing, and then his Legal degree.
I've been in this lovely apartment for two and a half weeks. I still have more boxes than I have spaces, and everyday I empty more boxes, and try to gain more order in my lovely place.
So....I do NOT have billions of dollars, I don't even have a simple million. Still, I have more than enough THINGS to make me happy.
Better than the THINGS, I have a family that I adore, friends that are family, and family that are friends.
One day I was feeling overwhelmed at the task of "downsizing," to a smaller apartment. Then I started to think about some of the people that I saw in Jamaica who lived in cardboard boxes, or huts with a tin roof. Their spaces were about two feet by three feet. Yet those people were smiling. They didn't seem to realize that they were poor. They would say, "Irie," which means basically, "Don't worry, be happy."
There are so many types of wealth. There is obviously financial wealth, but the kinds of wealth that are the more important are the wealth of true joy. That joy comes from relationships, NOT things. Oh trust me, I will always enjoy wearing pretty clothes, and jewelry, but I would give them all up in a heartbeat for any of my beloved friends or family. (Anybody out there need some beautiful women's clothes in a size of 18/20?)
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
I'm BACK or is it forth?
Back and forth is a great phrase to express everything about the year 2013. Back and forth emotions, back and forth physical locale, back and forth....oh heck just everything!
First my beloved husband of 27 years moved.....FAR AWAY....to the spiritual realm. Talk about LONG DISTANCE MOVE? It was most annoying that he did NOT take a single physical possession with him.
The next move was our beloved oldest daughter. She moved for a lovely job that she got where she works with history on a daily basis...yup she loves it!
Then there was my move. Have you EVER gone through the boxes, bags, and containers of 27 years of your life? Every single thing to pack has a memory attached that can send you reeling into tears, sorrow, and did I mention, WOW Nyle moved way too far away!
I moved (with the help of numerous beloved family and friends) on a Saturday. On Sunday I slept ALL DAY....moving is exhausting....bone drying, dregs of physicality EXHAUSTING! On Monday I went back to my former place and cleaned....again with the help of beloved friends who are family..
Tuesday my daughter and I packed up her school possessions, and off we went to her college where she is finishing her last year with honors. She's such a smartie!!!
Wednesday I drove home. Then Thursday came....DUM DA DUM!!! No Nyle....no kids...I was ridiculously grateful that I have a small doggy and 2 kitty cats. Trying to find places for all the things coming out of the boxes was ludicrous. I moved from a 3 bedroom 2 car garage to a 2 bedroom no garage. (Did I mention that I had spent 27 years collecting THINGS? Nyle as well.)
Now before any of you sigh and say, "Ah poor thing." (I really NEVER want pity....love, compassion, empathy, but NEVER pity!) I have a different picture for you to view.
Ann Shelton Howard left England, her beloved homeland, because she listened to two missionaries speak of the restoration of the gospel as Jesus taught it. She and her husband took their 7 children, and with all of their savings crossed the ocean to America.
After the rigors of traveling with 7 children across an ocean they had just begun their journey. Their destination was as the hymn "Come Come Ye Saints" sings "Far away in the west." They had little money left at this point. So they purchased a handcart....which is like a giant wheelbarrow on two wheels.
That meant that they were lucky to fit in it enough food for the lengthy journey, and a change of clothes, and that's pretty much it....because you see the giant cart had to be pulled by human hands. It was not designed to be pulled by horse or oxen, and they couldn't afford those anyway.
So with amazing faith, and high hopes for the future of their children they set out to reach the destination that they called "Zion," which in their definition was the "Pure of heart," those who shared their zeal in their newly embraced religion.
They did well for quite a while. Not far from their destination Ann gave birth. Partially due to the rigors of this cross country march the baby only lived a short time. Then she became desperately ill, probably with child bed fever.
Ann was described by family as "A woman of large stature." Remember she's ingesting next to NO food, and walking at least 15 miles a day. She was not exactly rotund, but simply a strong, big boned woman of around 200 lbs.
When she became too ill to walk the wagon company was approached. There were many in the company that had wagons pulled by horses or oxen. However, if they put her in their wagon they would have to take something else of equal weight out of their wagon.
These were tired, hungry, desperate people at this point. At first no one was willing to make that sacrifice for a stranger. Finally one dear soul agreed to let her ride in his wagon. (I hope that he received a grand reward in heaven for that kindness!)
For about a day she rode in a bed in the wagon with her head in her beloved young daughters lap to help protect her from the incredibly bumpy, rough ride of a wagon. Imagine being jolted, huge bumps, and constant rough ride when you are the sickest you have ever been? Did I also mention grieving over the loss of a precious child?
Finally in her young daughters arms she died. They buried her on the brutal prairie this woman of a cheerful disposition, a faith filled heart, and a brilliant head of red hair. There was no marker, she was hurriedly buried, probably with stones over her to keep wolves away from the grave.
Then the family marched on.
So, remembering Grandma Ann today, I suddenly feel my modern burdens lifting. The weight seems much lighter. I have a lovely car to drive when I want to go somewhere. Instead of having NOTHING of physical possessions, I have TOO MANY. I do NOT have to travel across an ocean and then a vast wilderness to live my faith. .
Somehow I feel better about my lot in life. Thanks Grandma Ann for so much sacrifice to make a better life for me, your great, great grandaughter!
First my beloved husband of 27 years moved.....FAR AWAY....to the spiritual realm. Talk about LONG DISTANCE MOVE? It was most annoying that he did NOT take a single physical possession with him.
The next move was our beloved oldest daughter. She moved for a lovely job that she got where she works with history on a daily basis...yup she loves it!
Then there was my move. Have you EVER gone through the boxes, bags, and containers of 27 years of your life? Every single thing to pack has a memory attached that can send you reeling into tears, sorrow, and did I mention, WOW Nyle moved way too far away!
I moved (with the help of numerous beloved family and friends) on a Saturday. On Sunday I slept ALL DAY....moving is exhausting....bone drying, dregs of physicality EXHAUSTING! On Monday I went back to my former place and cleaned....again with the help of beloved friends who are family..
Tuesday my daughter and I packed up her school possessions, and off we went to her college where she is finishing her last year with honors. She's such a smartie!!!
Wednesday I drove home. Then Thursday came....DUM DA DUM!!! No Nyle....no kids...I was ridiculously grateful that I have a small doggy and 2 kitty cats. Trying to find places for all the things coming out of the boxes was ludicrous. I moved from a 3 bedroom 2 car garage to a 2 bedroom no garage. (Did I mention that I had spent 27 years collecting THINGS? Nyle as well.)
Now before any of you sigh and say, "Ah poor thing." (I really NEVER want pity....love, compassion, empathy, but NEVER pity!) I have a different picture for you to view.
Ann Shelton Howard left England, her beloved homeland, because she listened to two missionaries speak of the restoration of the gospel as Jesus taught it. She and her husband took their 7 children, and with all of their savings crossed the ocean to America.
After the rigors of traveling with 7 children across an ocean they had just begun their journey. Their destination was as the hymn "Come Come Ye Saints" sings "Far away in the west." They had little money left at this point. So they purchased a handcart....which is like a giant wheelbarrow on two wheels.
That meant that they were lucky to fit in it enough food for the lengthy journey, and a change of clothes, and that's pretty much it....because you see the giant cart had to be pulled by human hands. It was not designed to be pulled by horse or oxen, and they couldn't afford those anyway.
So with amazing faith, and high hopes for the future of their children they set out to reach the destination that they called "Zion," which in their definition was the "Pure of heart," those who shared their zeal in their newly embraced religion.
They did well for quite a while. Not far from their destination Ann gave birth. Partially due to the rigors of this cross country march the baby only lived a short time. Then she became desperately ill, probably with child bed fever.
Ann was described by family as "A woman of large stature." Remember she's ingesting next to NO food, and walking at least 15 miles a day. She was not exactly rotund, but simply a strong, big boned woman of around 200 lbs.
When she became too ill to walk the wagon company was approached. There were many in the company that had wagons pulled by horses or oxen. However, if they put her in their wagon they would have to take something else of equal weight out of their wagon.
These were tired, hungry, desperate people at this point. At first no one was willing to make that sacrifice for a stranger. Finally one dear soul agreed to let her ride in his wagon. (I hope that he received a grand reward in heaven for that kindness!)
For about a day she rode in a bed in the wagon with her head in her beloved young daughters lap to help protect her from the incredibly bumpy, rough ride of a wagon. Imagine being jolted, huge bumps, and constant rough ride when you are the sickest you have ever been? Did I also mention grieving over the loss of a precious child?
Finally in her young daughters arms she died. They buried her on the brutal prairie this woman of a cheerful disposition, a faith filled heart, and a brilliant head of red hair. There was no marker, she was hurriedly buried, probably with stones over her to keep wolves away from the grave.
Then the family marched on.
So, remembering Grandma Ann today, I suddenly feel my modern burdens lifting. The weight seems much lighter. I have a lovely car to drive when I want to go somewhere. Instead of having NOTHING of physical possessions, I have TOO MANY. I do NOT have to travel across an ocean and then a vast wilderness to live my faith. .
Somehow I feel better about my lot in life. Thanks Grandma Ann for so much sacrifice to make a better life for me, your great, great grandaughter!
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Ere You Left Your Room This Morning Did you Think to Pray?
Visiting Teaching is a wonderful thing that happens in the Church of Jesus Christ of latter-day saints. Each sister is assigned to visit and teach other sisters each month. This visit is to build each other up spiritually and physically. There are numerous accounts of people receiving rich blessings both by visiting and by being visited.
Sometimes the grief that I'm working through leaves me feeling quite powerless. I feel unable to reach out, to be vulnerable or to help someone else. Wanting to be totally, completely alone is new to me. I
generally gain a great deal of my strength from my relationships with people.
This morning it took every ounce of strength that I had to get up, get ready, and go to church. The Relief Society sisters were warm and inviting. They always make me feel loved and supported (why do I hesitate to be there with them?)
A sweet sister rose to give the Visiting Teaching message. I cringed, and wanted to run right out of the door. You see this wonderful sister is someone that I am supposed to Visit Teach. I have been
THE very worst Visiting Teacher. I think I've physically visited her once or twice in this last year.
In the last month I have at least started to reach out through email. Then one day I felt inspired to tell her that I was praying for her. I really was praying for her, and for her family. You see, I LOVE this wonderful group of people. My inability to Visit has nothing to do with her lack, and all to do with my feelings of inadequacy.
Now can you imagine that she shared my attempt to Visit Teach. She told that she was having a very rough time in her life. One day the spirit told her that the people who love her are praying for her. The next day I sent her a message and told her that I was praying for her.
The Holy Spirit knows our hearts...he knows what we need, and what we NEED TO DO FOR OTHERS. I'm so grateful that I felt that inspiration to reach out in prayer.
The other thing that it reminded me was the power of prayer. It is not some ethereal words that we mumble into an uncaring universe. Prayer when uttered with faith, even as small as a grain of mustard seed (have you ever seen how tiny a grain of mustard seed is?) can move mountains. In this case it linked my heart to this beloved lady that I Visit Teach, and reminded her that she is loved, and it also connected she and I to our beloved Heavenly Father. Mountain moved.
Sometimes the grief that I'm working through leaves me feeling quite powerless. I feel unable to reach out, to be vulnerable or to help someone else. Wanting to be totally, completely alone is new to me. I
generally gain a great deal of my strength from my relationships with people.
This morning it took every ounce of strength that I had to get up, get ready, and go to church. The Relief Society sisters were warm and inviting. They always make me feel loved and supported (why do I hesitate to be there with them?)
A sweet sister rose to give the Visiting Teaching message. I cringed, and wanted to run right out of the door. You see this wonderful sister is someone that I am supposed to Visit Teach. I have been
THE very worst Visiting Teacher. I think I've physically visited her once or twice in this last year.
In the last month I have at least started to reach out through email. Then one day I felt inspired to tell her that I was praying for her. I really was praying for her, and for her family. You see, I LOVE this wonderful group of people. My inability to Visit has nothing to do with her lack, and all to do with my feelings of inadequacy.
Now can you imagine that she shared my attempt to Visit Teach. She told that she was having a very rough time in her life. One day the spirit told her that the people who love her are praying for her. The next day I sent her a message and told her that I was praying for her.
The Holy Spirit knows our hearts...he knows what we need, and what we NEED TO DO FOR OTHERS. I'm so grateful that I felt that inspiration to reach out in prayer.
The other thing that it reminded me was the power of prayer. It is not some ethereal words that we mumble into an uncaring universe. Prayer when uttered with faith, even as small as a grain of mustard seed (have you ever seen how tiny a grain of mustard seed is?) can move mountains. In this case it linked my heart to this beloved lady that I Visit Teach, and reminded her that she is loved, and it also connected she and I to our beloved Heavenly Father. Mountain moved.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Elephant Jokes
One of my beloved sister-in laws LOVES elephant jokes. She loves the simple, black and white humor that is to be found in them. She is NOT simple. My dear sister more than in-law, is quite brilliant. She raised seven children....the first six of them boys. She was an exchange student to Greece, and has been nominated at different times for honors due to her scholarship.
I have always thought Elephant jokes were ridiculously simple, and too silly to be funny....UNLESS...unless it's my sister-in law telling me the jokes. I've tried to decide if the jokes ARE funny when she tells them because her laughter is so deliciously contagious to me. Just by the action of laughing it feels like she's inviting me to a delicious feast....a feast of humor instead of food.
So...in her honor....although I am not going to give her name publicly (she knows who she is) I am going to list a couple of elephant jokes....laughing is optional....but it feels SOOO GOOD!
"Why did the elephant fall out of the tree? Because it was dead." "Why did the elephant paint her toenails red? So she could hide in the strawberry patch." "What is red, gray, and white? Campbell's cream of elephant soup."
OK....now it's your turn. I love my blogs to be a forum for discussion. So please, if you know any elephant jokes, share. You know you want to!
I have always thought Elephant jokes were ridiculously simple, and too silly to be funny....UNLESS...unless it's my sister-in law telling me the jokes. I've tried to decide if the jokes ARE funny when she tells them because her laughter is so deliciously contagious to me. Just by the action of laughing it feels like she's inviting me to a delicious feast....a feast of humor instead of food.
So...in her honor....although I am not going to give her name publicly (she knows who she is) I am going to list a couple of elephant jokes....laughing is optional....but it feels SOOO GOOD!
"Why did the elephant fall out of the tree? Because it was dead." "Why did the elephant paint her toenails red? So she could hide in the strawberry patch." "What is red, gray, and white? Campbell's cream of elephant soup."
OK....now it's your turn. I love my blogs to be a forum for discussion. So please, if you know any elephant jokes, share. You know you want to!
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