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  • “Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple. Dr. Suess
Showing posts with label storms of life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label storms of life. Show all posts

Monday, November 8, 2010

COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS

Harvest Time.
Autumn.
Thanksgiving.
Family.
Country.

These all seem ingrained and entwined in my psyche.
I was born in the fall.
Canadian Thanksgiving is mid October and in the United States it finishes November nicely after both countries honor veterans.

Falling leaves and crisp air carry color and scent past routines
and daily activities to the very chambers of my heart and mind.

Something primal struggles to surface.
I apply many labels but never feel quite satisfied with a resultant full emptiness that wallows in steady exuberant feelings (that I still as they seem too private to shout or flaunt) until snow finally freezes winter into place and melts that confused state of being into the joyous Christmas season.

A loved hymn encourages me to voice some of those labels, thoughts and feelings - sometimes only to myself.

I start listing labels in my prayers, and they seem to pop out of my mouth each time I open it enough  to breathe.

1 x 1 x one x one x 1 x 1 x one x one x 1 x 1 x one x one x -

you get it ....

TRY IT!

Suddenly it is impossible to be discouraged or 'lost' and burdens become bearable.

1. When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings; name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.

[Chorus]
Count your blessings;
Name them one by one.
Count your blessings;
See what God hath done.
Count your blessings;
Name them one by one.
Count your many blessings;
See what God hath done.

2. Are you ever burdened with a load of care?
Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?
Count your many blessings; ev’ry doubt will fly,
And you will be singing as the days go by.

3. When you look at others with their lands and gold,
Think that Christ has promised you his wealth untold.
Count your many blessings; money cannot buy
Your reward in heaven nor your home on high.

4. So amid the conflict, whether great or small,
Do not be discouraged; God is over all.
Count your many blessings; angels will attend,
Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.

Hymns of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, no. 241
Text: Johnson Oatman, Jr., 1856–1922  Music: Edwin O. Excell, 1851–19

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

CONFIDENCE

What can you do confidently?

Why?

I can walk. I have two feet. 

My feet are attached to my two legs and by various joints, muscles and other structures common to the human body they move me about without any real need to consciously consider them.  At least that was the case when I was younger. I loved to run and hike, actively participate in work and play,  and dance - and dance and dance.  I expected to always do so.

A morning of September 1988 changed my confidence levels forever. That morning, in the early cold of predawn,  my youngest son stood crying on the stair landing as everyone hurried down to warmer kitchen and living areas.  No one, even me really, wanted to deal with the sodden, droopy 'morning' diaper or the endlessly running nose. I scooped him up and turned to descend the dozen or so steps and join our brief morning gathering to read scriptures and join together to pray as a family before everyone began their other usual schedules and activities.

My father allowed his children to work along side him on the farm and construction sites IF we obeyed and IF we worked. Many of the tasks we learned required agility and endurance.  'High wire' walks along beams and rafters was routine.  We walked up and down ladders, extending more than one story, with habitual confidence the way most people walk up and down stairs  - yes we did go down walking forwards, facing out from the building! I think Dad told us not to but he did it to transport larger loads so why wouldn't we? I once saw him sit on the edge of a high ladder and slide - zip - just like that, to the bottom.  He was in a hurry. I was never that brave. To my brothers it was like a game.

Our confidence was gained over time and based on acquired experience, tested and repeated again and again.    Like a toddler learning to walk, we began climbing ladders one rung at a time clinging to each step and having difficulty negotiating the transitions from ladder to roof and roof to ladder.  Soon we could scramble up a ladder in no time at all and then we learned various ways to carry things needed for ourselves and others.  Incentives of all kinds encouraged us: the simple challenge of doing it - of being 'up' there, being with dad, wages given for nailing sheeting and shingles or other simple but tedious jobs, and what child can resist being a hero - taking daddy a drink of water, more nails or his dropped hammer?

That morning of 1988 as I turned and confidently stepped down the first step, with a young child in my arms, my left heel caught on the rubber stair nosing. I tried desperately to regain my balance and stay upright or even to only sit down. Many scenarios and options flashed, like a movie reel on fast forward, through my mind. I was instantly certain of impeding injury.  I could imagine my child's head hitting the distant vinyl covered, concrete floor like a pumpkin thrown onto a sidewalk. I could imagine my body twisted or my face skinned, scabbed or bruised purple yellow. An instantaneous impulse of self preservation provided the option to drop him and grab the handrail. The same split second evaluated holding him with one arm and grabbing with the other.

My mother instinct, combined with that image of a smashed pumpkin, provided to mind the only option being to lean backwards and hold him tightly to my chest so that my body would be his cushion.  My left leg remained caught. As I began to slide my full weight fell onto the leg as it folded behind and underneath me.  I felt the skin tear from the shin and foot and knew this was going to be a big nuisance - and I had so much to do.

I was extremely exasperated to consider how my busy schedule would be so messed up. Part way down the stairway I heard and felt the snap.  I knew the bone was broken. I tried to conjure solutions to what I considered a ridiculous situation. I was too busy to have this happening!

My husband roused a neighbor, backed our car over the apartment complex lawn to the door and they carried me to it. I kept the leg bent at a 90 degree angle - that seemed to lessen the immense pain. At the hospital David drove up to the ambulance entrance and ran into the hospital. Soon he returned with a nurse.  She wanted to know if I wanted a wheel chair or if I thought I could walk!?!?!

My confidence in anyone's sanity, including my own ebbed when I had to insist I could not get into a wheel chair. In her defense I later learned she had asked him if I was pregnant. When all she could understand of what David told her was that 'it was broken' she assumed my 'water broke'.

The oblique fractures of the tibia and fibula required a 10 day hospital stay, shortened my leg by 3/4" and required extensive Physical Therapy. A cast from toe to hip provided very limited mobility for approximately 8 months.

My visiting teacher came to the hospital to see me.  She reminded me that if I had enough faith in Jesus Christ that I could 'rise and walk'.  I knew I could IF that was God's will, but I did not feel like it was. I tend to trust God.  I trust that He knows what is best and will bless me to have what I need when I need it.  I have complete confidence that He knows me and loves me and will bless me with what is best for me and right for me - especially when I ask for the blessings I need. (My family prayed and asked for me and I asked for Priesthood blessings also.)

Later I wondered what took more faith - to 'rise and walk' or not to. I thought of the man in Acts that was lame all his life that was lain near the door of the temple to beg.  He was not healed by Christ but by Peter and John after the crucifixion. How much faith does it take to submit my desires and will to God and trust Him to grant or withhold omnisciently?

At first I held a rather big pity party. When I could at last turn over from side to side doctors discovered injuries to my back. After being informed that I was really lucky that my leg took the brunt of the fall and saved my back I was suddenly quite happy to have only a broken leg.  In my heart I knew what doctors were saying was sort of correct - I had been 'lucky' - blessed and protected and so had my son.  He had no injury at all.

At the hospital one specialist voiced that I might never really walk again.  That made me quite cranky. I had a life to live, a family to raise and besides I wanted to dance.  One of my pleasures in life has always been to dance. I consider my sweetest moments to have been encircled in my husband's arms as we waltzed or jived.

The next couple of years I did not dance.  Wheel chairs are MUCH more mobile than crutches and besides I could look my 5 year old and toddler in the eye AND they loved to push mommy and go for rides.  We were even able to go to the park on nice days. Crutches allowed me to negotiate restricted spaces and after a few weeks I was able to resume many activities and take care of most basic needs for myself and my pre-schoolers. Who needs dancing when you can manage basic hygiene with minimal help?

2 years later I walked without crutches or canes. Climbing ladders, even carefully, was out of the question but I continued to work on mobility and could walk up and down stairs.  I never know when the joint, leg or weight of the built-up shoe will do something strange or unpredictable.That leg has not inspired confident activity since. Experience induces caution.

 There are many things I can do. There are many things I can't.
 I am now confident that caution is needed when I walk or run, climb or dance.

What inspires confidence?

In 3rd grade I took piano lessons for 6 months. The teacher indicated mom should find another teacher.  I frustrated her - but that is a different story.  I have plunked away on the piano every since then.  I am not a confident piano player.

When one of my brothers was married I had sheet music for a popular song. At home I could play it well enough that it was recognizable.  I was asked to play that song as part of his wedding program.  I hesitated but was 'talked' into it.  You might think I would have begun to seriously practice playing it - you might be wrong.  When his new sister-in-law (an accomplished pianist my age) played her song, I knew my stumbling plunking should never have a public hearing.  When I was pushed to play and refused everyone thought I had stage fright. I knew better.

I walked out and did not return until the last item on the program was being performed.  The master of ceremonies then announced that I would play.  I could have died.  Of course everyone thought I was just nervous and told me not to worry about it.  My fear had nothing to do with the stage.  I had not prepared properly.  I could have.  I didn't.

Confidence does not come from laziness or neglect. Confidence and faith are the opposite of fear.

The Book of Hebrews in the Bible teaches about Faith.
(see chapter 11)

Faith is an action word. Faith requires me to do and think.

How many hours each day do professional musicians practice?

I seldom practice consistently every day. If I did I likely could play the piano more confidently. It isn't a priority for me. I don't have sufficient desire. It seems to be merely an idle curiosity. 

What can I do confidently? Why can I do it with confidence?

I can do almost anything I truly desire to do - God willing.

What do I really desire? What am I willing to practice? repetitively make a priority?

Do I want to dance? Will I make the effort?

Consistently?

Persistently?

I am a seamstress. I make, alter and mend clothing and furnishings of all kinds. I have learned, practiced and applied rules and techniques many times. Consistently!Persistently! I know I can do most things and figure out things I may still need to learn.

Modern scripture teaches that confidence begins with obedience to true principles and faith.

"All true faith must be based upon correct knowledge or it cannot produce the desired results. Faith in Jesus Christ is the first principle of the gospel [of Jesus Christ] and is more than belief, since true faith always moves its possessor to some kind of physical and mental action; it carries an assurance of the fulfillment of the things hoped for. A lack of faith leads one to despair, which comes because of iniquity." Bible Dictionary: Faith

What can you do confidently? Why can you do it with confidence?

You know you can do it because you have paid a price. Jesus Christ the only begotten son of God the Father paid a price for our confidence in him - he gave his life and all his love. What will I do/give for confidence in him?

I can do almost anything I truly desire to do - God willing
- so can you..

What do I really desire? How about you?

What are we willing to practice? repetitively make a priority?

I need to just try!

AND TRY AGAIN!!













Sunday, September 12, 2010

MOTHER'S "DAY"

Once There Was a Baby

How did your mother spend her day?

Did she have a job or do volunteer work outside the home?

Journal answer 4 March 2001

I really don’t know how mom spent her day but I can surmise from things I do know. 

On the right is a picture of her mother holding her as a young child.

Our family always had everything we really needed. I attribute that to her frugality and diligent hard work and innovative efforts.

Mom with unknown child 

I remember arriving home after school on very few occasions that she was not there. She might go to Lethbridge, one hour away by car, [usually caught a ride with a neighbor, Betty Stewart, Orva Smith, Necia Bennett, or maybe Delaine Lowry] to do shopping or just for the trip out of town.

Finding her not at home was as rare as finding there wasn’t any bread in the large bread drawer (that accommodated 10 loaves with room to spare). The bread in the drawer was always a Piranha feeding frenzy after school. We often saw bread in process as we came in from school and if it were just out of the oven –  too soft and hot to cut – we would just tear a loaf into pieces to eat with dripping butter (actually margarine) and/or honey or jam. Mother baked 10 loaves of bread 3 or 4 times a week. (One of the few treats we had on a regular basis were the cinnamon rolls she made from any dough left over from making the loaves of bread.)

Most often she was about some task: laundry, sewing, gardening, or other home-animal-and-farm care. She spent a lot of time taking care of the outdoors and indoors while dad was gone: wood and coal for the furnace, feeding animals, milking cows and separating off the cream, hauling water to drink and bathe before we had running water, and any other yard or garden chores that needed attention. Our garden was about ½ acre – I realize now that our diet consisted mostly of the vegetables raised in that plot and meat from the farm and hunting.

All else aside there were 10 of us kids and she spent much time keeping us all spotlessly clean and bathed, neatly dressed, and fed - I never remember ever being hungry; there were few treats but never were we hungry. In the mid 60’s mom and dad invited a student from the Indian Placement Program to live in our home for more than 10+ years. I heard her tell dad, “What difference does one more make?” 

One more meant one more around the 8'x 4' table adding up to 13, one more sandwich each morning on the lunch assembly line, AND one more helper: mom kept us as busy, and happily involved in all aspects of working and playing, as children can be.

I was so oblivious that I probably wouldn’t know she worked so hard if we hadn’t missed all she did when she was not home. Sometimes she would be visiting teaching or taking care of someone that needed help. Some days we knew to get off the bus where she was at – other days she would just wave the bus to a stop as it passed a house along the bus route where she happened to be and give some instructions to us and/or take the younger children with her.

In addition to all other things she served in many church organizations and callings. 

One of the adventures that was looked forward to each year was berry picking.  Everybody big and little, old and young went berry picking. We were always allowed to eat as many berries as we wished as long as we had a bucket and picked into it to contribute to the gallons of berries to be preserved for the winter months – except that they seemed to disappear VERY early in the winter - we loved to eat berries.  

Mother also took care of aging relatives. Some of my funnier memories are of grandparents living with us as their bodies and minds became feeble.  She was always so kind; to them and to us. We seldom went to a doctor - Mother took care of us – especially when one or more of us were ill.  It was amazing how she could discern the difference between fake and real illness.

My mother will celebrate her 80th birthday Thursday.  

I honor the noble, hard working, gentle, upright example you provided to me every day of my life, mom. I pay tribute to your 80 years - 80 years of struggles and striving, 80 years of infinite faith, 80 years of living and loving.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Mom.

August 2010 birthday trip

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

I BELIEVE

When rain falls I really must look for rainbows, knowing they are real, and hug those memories tightly to a still (though pulsing) heart as I gaze through wet gray skies (or eyes) remembering the sun (and promises). 

I believe for every drop of rain that falls
A flower grows
I believe that somewhere in the darkest night
A candle glows
I believe for everyone who goes astray, someone will come
To show the way
I believe, I believe

I believe above a storm the smallest prayer
Will still be heard
I believe that someone in the great somewhere
Hears every word

Every time I hear a new born baby cry,
Or touch a leaf or see the sky
Then I know why, I believe



Every time I hear a new born baby cry,
Or touch a leaf or see the sky
Then I know why, I believe


(Erwin Drake - Irvin Graham - Jimmy Shirl - Al Stillman)