THREE "C"s

 1. CONNECTEDNESS

Today I thought about connections.
What am I connected to?
Who am I connected to?

Why?

If someone knows my name, and calls me by name I feel connections with that person.  Friends know more about me than my name.  Family members know intimately more than any friend - as we share the functions of living and space there is no way to avoid knowing and being known as outsiders never can.

What makes the connection to someone (or even something) greater or less? good or not?

God knows my thoughts - my mind and my heart.
My connections with God are sure and deep.

2. COMPETENCE

When I succeed at something - anything - it sure feels great.

A friend once told me, "at least I have a good laugh - people tell me my laugh makes them feel happy".  Part of her worth and happiness as a person came from others telling her she has a wonderful laugh - and she does!

I am a competent seamstress - maybe ... but -
I doubt myself when I don't get feed back from others that shows I am competent and capable. Maybe I don't know enough, or do it well enough, and am kidding myself?

Self doubt is a pervasive voice.
It comes into the mind and drowns the heart.

I think the circles at the top are lights
above the bathroom mirror

Recently a young granddaughter sent me a letter with a picture on the outside of the envelope.  She admires my 'curls' and wishes her straight hair 'had curls'.

Awwww ...

 She has helped me remember that some of me is 'competent' in spite of anything I do or don't do - there are things about me that are blessings that others long for and do not have.

How can I help her understand her 'competence'?
And learn vital lessons of self acceptance and awareness?

I longed so deeply for shining smooth straight hair, like hers, the first 30 or so years of my life. I never learned to know or manage my own fuzzy hair - no one ever knew how I felt or explained valid options to me. I am sure my mother tried but she seemed frighteningly out of touch with the style of the day - ironed flat, straight hair! She thought ringlets were a wonderful look (and they were I might add - now, in hindsight).
- 
How do I help some one know their value? that their smile lights up my world, their song brightens gray days or their service, even just a smile or an opening door,  touches my soul?

I believe those voices of self doubt and recriminations come from the devil himself and the minions that desire our misery. Sometimes people around us heap fuel on our fires of self recrimination with thoughtless words, negligent actions or careless looks.  I  believe each of us can silence those voices for people around us with kind words, loving actions and grateful looks.  

Simple sincerity requires little effort but much diligence. 

3. CONFIDENCE

Connectedness plus Competence equals Confidence.

C1 + C2 = C3

A simple formula - just an equation.
A pattern for love, and life and perhaps even happiness.
It may not be easy to recognize me, call me by name, validate things I do, allow my feelings, help me see how I contribute value or to just accept ways I am different from you. When you do so with understanding, and without mockery, I feel and find confidence!

If someone knows my name, and calls me by it or just notes my existence I feel connections to them. Noticing my existence is not superfluous and may even be life or sanity saving. I ask myself - am I making connections that build competence and confidence? With my spouse? children? grandchildren? siblings?

Am I choosing to make viable connections in the most important relationships of life - with family?

What can I do today to help family members feel competent?

When someone I trust (and perhaps another also) compliments a choice I make or an action I take I begin to know competence. I begin to realize I can 'choose and do' - especially if I have 'connections' with them.

When I 'choose and do' I become more of what I have chosen and more of what I have done - for good or ill.

What can you do with confidence?  


Ideas from training to help youth in crisis. I was able to find an Internet reference to "Positive Youth Development Program" from Hong Kong, that may be one of the sources from the training. Accessed 26 January 2015

SORRY I AM NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN

I have often observed small children say, "sorry" repeatedly and without meaning it, as if saying sorry is an excuse to forget about bad behavior and then repeat it.

One child grabbed another's toy -
then shouted 'sorry' as they ran away with the toy.

Another child ran their bike into a group of children as they rode around a playground. 'Sorry' they called as they continued on their way.  On the next couple rounds they did the same thing. 

A larger child punched and kicked a small child and left them crying on the ground.  'Sorry' was voiced but certainly did not mean the larger child regretted what was done. 

What exactly does sorry mean?

A dictionary states that it means feeling or expressing pity, sympathy, remorse, grief or regret. An exclamation expressing apology used especially at the time of misdemeanor or offense. 

I have my own definition! 

Sorry means I won't do it again.

And if I can make amends I will do that too.

I love the Friend, a children's magazine published for children by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I subscribed when my children were young and still do - I think I am addicted ... giggle ... or else I must admit to being child like - I keep learning from the simple lessons in its pages.

The April 2011 issue (page 22) simply and effectively teaches about the 1st four principles and ordinances Latter Day Saints believe are important. I like what it had to say about repentance - "Repentance is when we change our hearts to be more like Heavenly Father. When we do something wrong, we feel sorry and promise ourselves and Heavenly Father that we will not do that wrong thing again. When we repent we can be forgiven because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ."

Perhaps I learned my definition of sorry from a child's magazine or Primary lesson.  I especially like that here 'sorry' includes a promise to myself (and God) to not do the wrong thing again.

I mostly know what is right and what is wrong. 

We all do. 

Sure we excuse and justify many things we do but are we sorry?

Or are we like young children that speak it without meaning?

As I read the article I began to mull over things I do and wonder if I have things I need to stop and promise MYSELF I will never do again.

Do I always obey the law? keep the speed limit? pay the parking meter? do my VT? keep my word? tell the truth? pay my creditors? treat others kindly even when they bug me?

I refuse to answer any of the above questions.
My list is getting rather longish ...

What about you?

Sorry means I am never going to do that again.  

I promise. 

TWO MINUTES

I graduated to two minutes this week.
Such a long short time!

A few weeks after I started physical therapy (following removal of a large benign tumor) I graduated from simple stretching and lifting exercises to 1 minute on an elliptical trainer. The one minute rule was strictly enforced for the first week and then, if I wanted to and felt up to it, I could add more time -
 entirely my choice.

What kind of exercise can you do in 1 minute?
If you do it every day will it make any difference?

My first exercises were very simple.  Lift the leg from 90 degrees to 180 degrees ten times.  Step onto a thick book and lift my own weight 10 times etc. I had about 15 different ones. My leg muscles had to be trained in the simplest of motions.

Repetition worked wonders and with it my ability to walk and balance soon allowed me to discard the walker and change to a cane.  When I started the elliptical I often had to revert to the walker the following day. The gradual improvement was slow and at times seemed nonexistent but in time I began to have more strength and stamina.

Enough strength and stamina to begin that 1 minute!

Wikipedia says the following: "An elliptical trainer or cross trainer is a stationary exercise machine used to simulate stair climbing, walking, or running without causing excessive pressure to the joints... to offer a non-impact cardiovascular workout ... They are an example of a weight-bearing form of exercise. ... An elliptical cross trainer is comparable to a treadmill in its exertion of leg muscles and the heart. Ellipticals produce an intermediate range of leg motion between that of stationary bikes and treadmills.''

When I finished my first day on an elliptical I REALLY needed the ice massage each PT session ended with every time; and then I went home to bed.  I went to PT 3 times a week.  Thanks to Casey who cheerfully drove me there and picked me up.

The second week I pushed myself to the max - I made 1 minute 15 seconds. I felt a bit silly - how could such a simple movement be so difficult? I determined to up the ante - I really wanted more than a cane - how can I be healthy and ride a bike or dance with a cane?

 It took some time but eventually I refused to quit until  I made 1 minute 30 seconds.  My legs would turn to jelly and I could hardly walk to the massage table but I was at 1 1/2.

That might not seem very long but have you ever tried to hold a toddler still for that long? or even yourself? Try it - can you do absolutely nothing or hold perfectly still for 90 seconds? This was much much harder than those things are!

Medical Insurance only pays for specific amounts of PT.  Before I ever reached 2 minutes I was sent home with lists of exercises, resistance bands, and suggestions for other things I could buy/do - the only impediment was money!

I had no money.

I do have GRRR though - I have continued to more or less do my therapy - at least sporadically.

A few months later as I moped and moaned (and wished I had an elliptical) my patiently listening daughter reminded me that she had given one away - it was missing a cord but perhaps still traceable and possible to use. It had been the rounds to several places but was now unused.

Soon the older, dust covered elliptical with a one partially broken and one missing foot piece moved from a garage to a new life in my sewing room. David replace the foot pedals with some well thought out and constructed wooden platforms (that even compensated for the 3/4" lift I wear on one leg - I so love not needing to get shoes and socks on) and I added 1 minute on the trainer to the simple exercises I do most mornings to maintain my mobility.

Do I exercise every day?
I WISH! I should be so diligent!
No - but I do basics often enough to prevent problems - sometimes not until the problems start though but I at least know how to correct them - it is just the daily grind and reps.

I started with one minute again - 3 times a week - EEEKKK!!!

Who knew so much lactic acid existed in the world - and the only way to really dissipate it is to do the exercises more faithfully.

Last week I really pushed to make 2 minutes one day - I almost died - or at least wished I might.  The following week I could only do 1/1/2 with difficulty. I persisted and this week I have officially graduated.

2 minutes, baby!!
2 minutes - I am starting to polish my bike!

What can 2 minutes do for you?

I LOVE TO SEE THE TEMPLE

I grew up near a temple.

The magnificent Alberta Temple was a part of my hopes, my dreams and part of all the teachings of my parents and grandparents to their families.

There is a picture of when the cornerstone was laid 19  September 1915, in my mother's photos.

It shows David O McKay at that time (standing) .  Within arm's length in the background is my grandfather, Neil Snow Forsyth and, just behind him, his father George James Forsyth (white mustache).


As a child, I was taught reverence for the temple. I felt something when I saw it - when I walked on the surrounding grounds or touched its stones. I watched my mother care for, wash and iron, the white clothing they wore when they 'went to' the temple and puzzled a bit about all the effort she made.  We did not have the song, I Love To See The Temple, but I remember our Primary went to see it once and that we could walk up to the frieze depicting Christ, sculptured in bas-relief on the front of the building, and touch His stone figure.

As a teenager the temple was just a large building my gym class ran around - 2 laps was a mile.  I said, and acted as if, I hated religion and everything to do with religion BUT inside there was still a place that was set apart - a sacred different place - regarding the temple.

Alberta Temple Dedication Ticket 27 August 1923 6 pm

When my maternal grandmother, Elna Bohne Campbell, once showed me a trunk of her 'important' papers and treasured mementos one of the things I noticed there was a smallish pink card.  It was a ticket and recommend allowing her to attend the dedication of the Alberta Temple on the 26 August 1923. She was 14. She told me she went to that ceremony with her father. He got all the children in his family that could go to the dedication tickets and they went. [Only children age 8 and older are permitted to attend.] When the building was remodeled and then rededicated in June 1991 grandma was still living and thrilled to see it restored and renewed.

My father tells me that as a child he saw her father walk, about 5 miles (each way) from Aetna where they lived, to the temple in Cardston several times each week. Dad lived on the South Hill in Cardston and the road went past his home.  Dad said that Henry Bohne was known to all the boys as 'Old One Eye' and endured much teasing.

Recently David and I received a phone call from the temple president.  He wanted us to come to our nearest temple for an interview.  We were asked if we would accept a calling to serve there for two years.

This calling has become my greatest and most cherished opportunity.  As I go there each week (we are assigned to serve one shift per week helping the temple patrons) I have found more peace and more tranquility and understanding than I have experienced in the entire 30 years I have been able to go to the temple.

There have been times when I have not been able to go to the temple because of distance or circumstance for long time periods but mostly I have tried to go once a month. When we lived in Utah for a couple of years we attended weekly but I was very young, had a large family and being religious was new to me because I had spent many years seeking for and searching for what my parents and their parents had tried to GIVE to me (genuine, real truth and all the blessings it can bring into lives and hearts and minds - even the gospel of Jesus Christ - the good news that he was born, and lived and died).

This past Sunday morning Thomas S. Monson, President and Prophet of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, spoke in the 181st Annual General Conference of the church about temples.  I listened to most of the conference via the internet in my own home.  Modern media and technology make his words, and the words of other General Authorities and church leaders available to almost anybody anywhere anytime. [see here]

After explaining why, he instructed us to make going to the temple our highest priority and to make any sacrifice necessary to go there as often as possible.

Anyone can have this blessing in their life - anyone that wants it. With all my heart and soul I commend his words and all the talks given, but especially these specific instructions, to each of you my loved ones. What ever it takes, what ever you need to do - please, please make that sacrifice or change in your life.

There you will be able to resolve and understand any problem or difficulty. There you will gain the strength to accomplish all things that are good or right. There you will find peace and hope and tranquility.

There, in the temple and its ordinances and covenants, is the very way to heaven - the way to be with God again, here and now in our every day lives, AND forever through all eternity.

APRIL FOOLS

I have fond memories of April 1.
It was always a day of good, silly fun.

I quickly learned to never believe or trust anything heard or said on the first day of April - my four older brothers  were the hard school masters.  But it was all in good natured and simple fun. Gags that could hurt someone physically or emotional were always in bad taste and made the one doing such mean things look like more of a fool than the one being tricked - isn't that still the case?

Pranks and silliness ruled April 1.

Margarine back then was white, not colored, and came in 1 pound blocks almost identical in appearance to a 1 pound block of lard.  If you wanted margarine to resemble butter in color you had to knead a small packet of coloring (that came in the package with most brands) into it - my mom couldn't be bothered - that was just a waste of time.  One of the pranks almost guaranteed to show up on April Fool's day was the substitution of lard for margarine - a fairly harmless and very amusing trick. Imagine spreading your bread/toast with lard and taking a bite - YYYYUUUUCCCKKKKK! been there done that.

Salt and sugar were often exchanged by filling the sugar dish with salt or the salt shaker with sugar. My mother did not approve of putting salt in the sugar bowl - it wasted too much food.  She spent a good part of each April 1st checking on possible food substitutions to make sure waste did not occur but invariably some sneak would get one by. She was good natured about it especially when the one being tricked might have been getting away with some tricks.

All day long someone was always telling you such things as 'your shoe is untied' or 'did you hear that soandso was hurt/died/got married/' etc. April 1 was not a good day to set appointments or to have accidents - no one would believe it was 'for real' if you did. I mean if I invited you to dinner to day would you come? and if you did would you eat anything without suspicion? - I could be putting anything in there for a gag couldn't I?

One of the best April Fool's pranks I fell for was a garage sale.  As I drove across town big signs with arrows announced a garage sale.  I followed them. The day was a beautiful spring Saturday and I was so excited to go to my first garage sale of the year.  I pulled up to the address - there on the front lawn was a huge bright sign that read "APRIL FOOLS".  I still chuckle about that and tell everyone that will listen.  Maybe someone else can play that one - it is a terrific example of a harmless joke.

So have a nice day - and be nice too.

ON THE EDGE

A short silly verse (heard often) 
runs through my mind at this time of year. 

the flowers are in every stage of bud and bloom this spring

Der spring is sprung
Der grass is riz
I wonder where dem boidies is?

Der little boids is on der wing,
Ain't dat absoid?
Der little wings is on de boid!
 
 In Arnold Silcock's Verse and Worse,
 the poem is titled 'The Budding Bronx' 
attributed to ANON [New York]


It seems as universal as spring.

Robins in flocks tweet and chitter the last couple of weeks, and finally some spring rain has caused the daffodils in the warmest beds to raise their heads and spread to full flower in this morning's glorious sunshine. 

These daffodil bulbs came out of the same bag as the others
but are not against the sunny side of the house.

Those in more shaded areas are only poking out a few tips still but weather HAS warmed enough to shed heavier coats in favor of jackets and nights no longer freeze layers of swirling frost to the car windows every day. 

Tulip cups caught this morning's rain into shining jewels nestled safely deep inside. [The drops are clear and look like bubbles but are so deep in the leaves that they appear dark.]

Notice the 'special' spring flower that has
usurped a position next to this hyacinth.

And now, even the hyacinths are trying to stretch open the bud balls - but only in that warmest sunny bed. 

 Lots of the flowers are slow and seem to hesitate to believe the sign of the robins or lead of the daffodils or violets.

tiny thumbnail size violets on the edge between grass and flower bed

When I went out to shoot the flowers I found this darling bouquet of violets just off the patio - I think a bird must have left a present for me there to make this delightful spring surprise - I didn't plant violets there.  Once you have them you never know where they will jump up next.

I like the surprising orange inside the stripe on this little guy.

-
Crocuses also are popping open.  

The hen &chick at the top is about
the size of a half dollar 

My favorite tiny, tiny blues are just peeking out and starting to fight their way through the bed that awaits spring cleaning - there is always another project in the wings - perhaps tomorrow ... 




And indeed ...


Spring seems to have sprung at last!

the daffodils against the SW side of the house always open first

Or at least it is on the edge of doing so ... 

Z to A and BACK

I have a little story to tell.

Just the first chapter or so...

"The child clung to life precariously as the Medevac helicopter whirred north to a hospital many hours away from home that housed equipment and teams of doctors that specialized in neonatal care.

This child, this tiny baby cradled by tubes and swaddled as much by technician's hands as by his father's, was only hours old. Space constraints scarcely permitted even one parent in the sky borne bubble.

Papa-pa and grandma had arrived just in time, that first day, to see the apparent robust health of a daughter's first infant, share in the first bath and joke that his name started at the end of the alphabet with Z, went all the way to the beginning at A and settled nicely, somewhere in the middle, at last.

Zaymes was picture perfect - at first.
Even his special little quirks just made him more darling.

Wearing a nurse imposed gown and mask, per standard hospital rules, Papa-pa lathered and then rinsed the abundant curls while grandma watched.  She didn't think the color of her grandson's skin looked quite right. She called for the nearby nurse.  Grandma had seen and bathed many healthy pink newborns. Zaymes, she felt, was too blue.  Although the words of the nurse seemed reassuring, her actions almost shouted otherwise as she deftly finished washing the alert blue-eyed baby and quickly bundled him into a warm, oxygenated incubator.

Now, a few ticking hours later, his life depended on quickly getting to the larger hospital with skilled specialists that could intervene using advanced machines and medicines.  If the faith and prayers of loving family and friends can effect miracles it is no wonder Zaymes lived and thrives - he has lots of family and friends and love. Of course he also received a priesthood blessing. Papa-pa drove daddy's car the many hours to meet him at the hospital, after tucking mommy safely into Grandma's car. Grandma made sure mommy arrived safely and fussed and worried and prayed enough for everybody.
....
Zaymes is now 10 years old."

That is the happy ending of part 1.

Grandma is amazed - already 10 years! It seems like only yesterday that those tiny fingers would barely go all the way around her thumb as she kept watch, in shifts with others, through the critical hours.  But now those same fingers can knit, and write and do many other skillful things.
And those alert baby-blues and soft blond curls can charm your socks off.

How will this story end?
How many years will it last?

Will Zaymes:
z. ____________
y. become famous?
x. ______________
w. marry a big eyed girl?
...
d. _________________
c. serve a mission?
b. _________________
a. have a lot of money?

Go ahead and put in a whole alphabet of questions.
Ask anything you want from z. to a. and back again.
I don't have any answers ... yet -

Zaymes will have to write the rest of this story - each year will add another exciting chapter!

Happy Birthday
And lots of love and hugs on your special day.

HURRY HURRY HURRY

I took a little trip across town today.

Many days I manage to hibernate in my little cocoon of complacency where my world is ordered more or less as I make it.  I can think the sky is teal or turquoise and imagine it is falling if I choose and no one else to seriously affected.

Perhaps I need to get out more.

Has the world significantly changed this past year?

Have you all gone crazy?

What is the rush?

Why are you in such a hurry to get to anywhere?

In such a hurry that courtesy and common consideration indicates other people are less important than you are and that only your needs should be met.

What has happened to human decency?

I didn't see any of your cars turn off at the hospital entrance or even to the main clinics as we went by so I know it was not medical emergencies but perhaps some of you are having mental or emotional urgencies that could become emergencies.

I seriously try not to judge you but can I at least get in line?
Would it be OK for me to get where I am going?
After I let you go first, of course!

I admit to not being a tremendously competitive person.
Long lines and heavy traffic may elicit a sigh now and again but, all in all, if I see you with only a few items in your cart (especially if mine is much fuller or you look somewhat stressed - and yeah anyone can tell that by looking at you) I don't mind if you go first and will indicate for you to do so with a nod or gesture.

[And btw - could you please pass it on - someone else may need the same kindness on a day when you CAN slack off a bit.]

You will get a similar nod or gesture as a pedestrian or if we reach for a supermarket  item at the same time or arrive simultaneously at the same corner of  an intersection.

None the less I wonder at how frazzled so many seem.
Are your priorities in order?

What really matters?
How long since you took the time for that?

How long since you took the time to be nice?
or courteous?
or considerate?

Not for me to know but just ask yourself - are you happy?

And are you hurrying towards happiness and what matters most?
I don't want to get in your way whether you are or are not.
Today I noticed that if I do one of us is likely to die!
Or be maimed for life!

As your cars and carts zoomed and swerved and as your faces scowled and scrinched I wished I could give you enough time - time for the things that WILL ease your burdens and bring you joy.

Genuine joy.

And peace - may each of you find your way to peace and prosperity - soon ...

before you hurt someone.

WHAT'S INSIDE

This morning I decided a toasted blueberry bagel with cream cheese would make a great breakfast.  While waiting for the toaster I spied the bowl of oranges I have been enjoying this week and added one of those to the menu also, starting to peel it (since the toaster wasn't quite finished).

I interrupted the peeling to spread the cream cheese  - at the squealing beep signaling the bagel had popped up. I was savoring the smell and quite anticipating the juicy sweetness of that orange.

When I again picked up the orange to finish peeling it, the peel seemed glued on. Trying to pry it off began to tear the sections - and I like how 'not messy' sections of oranges are - so I turned it over thinking I could pull the skin off without more damage by coming at it from another direction.

I readily slid my thumb under the peel into ... WHAT??? I did a double take - I have never seen such a thing before.  The orange looked normal from the outside but when I examined it the 'navel' had traces of black that may have alerted me to the problem.

What's inside really is what counts!

There are many old sayings, that are part of the upbringing I had, that all mean this very thing.  I can look or act pretty or nice but what is in my heart is what matters.

I was also taught to fill my time and my life with good uplifting things that give light to the mind and body and hearten myself and others - taught so well and thoroughly that if I spend time on anything that does not fit those clear descriptions the echoes in my consciousness will not subside until I change my actions or attitudes.

As a young teen I was wisely counseled to "keep my mind clean and my lips sweet - to never allow vulgar, obscene, or profane language to enter my mind nor pass from my lips ... [because these things] are tools [of those seeking misery] being used ... to demoralize and tear down the character of those striving for [happiness]."

I never particularly thought of things that are vulgar, obscene or profane or defined them to myself until I was much older.  Today I ponder what can be inside containers that appear attractive.

I intend to avoid anything and everything that will bring the inside of this orange, or anything like it to mind.  As much as possible I will just avoid such things.  When I encounter them I resolve to treat them the way I treated this orange - throw it out, dispose of it, get rid of it AND be very careful to put safeguards in place that will help me to not touch them, hear them, or look at them again.

I do not want to put my thumb into such nastiness much less eat it or take any part of it into my body.  Surely I do not want similar nastiness in my mind and I don't think you do either.

What is inside, inside our hearts and minds - the very desires and thoughts and feelings we have - really is what counts.

EIGHT

YOUR HAPPY BIRTHDAY

This month is such a special one;
It’s birthday-time for you.
We’d really like to celebrate
Your happy day with you.
Zip-a-dee-ay and heigh-dee-ho,
Here’s something we can do.
We’ll sing a song that we all know,
Happy Birthday to you!

Children’s Songbook, 283 

Words and music: Charlene Anderson Newell, 

b. 1938. © 1969 IRI

Winslow - you will be eight this weekend.

That is a very special day - on its own!

You will also be baptized this weekend. 

That is another very special day - on its own!

And when you get baptized you are also given a gift - 

the gift of the Holy Ghost.

God talks to us through the Holy Ghost.

You get to do two special things on one very special day! We will come. We are very excited for you. When I was baptized everyone said I would feel very special things in very special ways.  I didn't think I felt anything different or special. I did not really feel like anything happened to me except I got wet (and we all got to go to town and we had a treat - our large family did not all, together, go the 15 miles to town unless there was a good reason to do so).

Many, many years later I heard a talk about the many ways we feel or hear the Holy Ghost. We were told that if we would think about the day we were baptized and confirmed and try to remember how we felt that day that we might know one way that the Holy Ghost speaks individually and specifically to us.

I thought and thought about my baptism day.  I thought and thought about the Sunday I was confirmed.  What  I could remember most for both days was that I thought I felt nothing - I wondered at how I could have felt so absolutely empty and void of thoughts or feelings - I did not feel bad or afraid and I did not feel the burning we hear so often about or even a nice warmth.  I did not understand what I felt until I tried to describe the way I felt to Papapa - then I knew that what I had felt was a deep quiet stillness - a stillness and quiet so profound that I thought I felt nothing at all.  

There are several scriptures that say
 "Be still and know that I am God".

I have learned that when I feel that certain quiet, empty stillness that I am feeling the Holy Ghost and that God is talking to me.  There are many ways to feel the Holy Ghost.  Each person will have their own unique way and understanding - and it may be different from anyone else.  

As you enjoy your special day think about and observe how you feel (and what happens to you) and if possible, write those things down.  It will help you when you are older. I am older ... I have lived 8 years seven times.  I can hardly wait until I can say I have lived 8 years 8 times - that is only 7 and 1/2 years from now. You will be almost 16. 

My father and mother have lived 8 years 10 times! 

When I am that old how old will you be?

We hope you have a terrific day Winslow -
Love Papa and Grandma

LIKE A SON

I have 3 sons.

I also have 3 daughters.
They have each married a young man that is 'like a son' to me.

Each of 'these' sons has a birthday in the early spring.
In spring the days warm, begin to lengthen,
and the light steadily increases.

All my sons bring light to our family, and humour, and increase the vitality and lengthen joy in warm interpersonal interactions.

Happy Birthday seems like such a trite saying and yet I pray for their happiness, not only on the day the calendar marks, for them, the passing of another year - their birth day, but all other days too (in spite of 'face washes' J).

When it is your "Birthday - shout hooray! ... One year older and wiser too - Happy Birthday to you."

FENCED SHORT CUTS

The neighborhood thinks my yard is a shortcut.

A beaten path runs between us and the house next door.
Nothing stops the flow of traffic:
foot traffic, bicycles, baby strollers, you name it!
We ask - politely and firmly - they ignore.

When we are in the yard, out and about, most trespassers will at least walk along the other side of the house next door.  They know they are trespassing. They know they shouldn't ...
The neighboring house doesn't seem to be able to stop them either - they have a matching path on both sides of the house.

When trespassers think no one is looking (and even at times, brazenly knowing someone is) they do what they know is not right.  You can tell they know as they glance furtively about, duck their heads, avert their eyes, pretend deafness and to be looking ... somewhere, anywhere until they are past property lines and back on public sidewalks.

Landscaping and flowers don't stand a chance against the continued assault. Not even Irises lift a barrier or withstand the constant pounding. Neither do simple fences.

We put a simple wire fence along the back to break the pattern.  It is constantly sagging from those that don't leap it but have to lean on it as they cross. We continue to straighten and support it.  It at least diminishes the flow and makes vehicular traffic more difficult - not impossible - just awkward as the bikes and buggies have to be lifted over it and so those go the few extra steps it takes to use the neighbors unfenced yard.

My husband and I debate fences.  Are they junk and weed collectors and more work than they are worth? Or do they actually provide security for ourselves physically in some ways and morally for the careless and thoughtless misusing the property and time of others.

There is a boy, and his friends, that regularly 'get away with' using my yard as a shortcut.  I work at being kind to them and helping them learn honesty and consideration.  I have paid them for small bits of yard work when they come around asking for work.  I have given them flowers for their mothers, and fruit in season and explained the damages that 'the short cut' causes. They have promised to stop walking through - but there is no fence, and 'everyone else does it" so they often break their promise.

I hesitate to really trust them much.  Even thought I know they are young and wonder if they are properly schooled I hesitate - this year I may not hire them.  They are not young men that keep their word.  I will attempt to find help that is 'honest'. Breaking their word mostly hurts themselves.

As I age I need more and more help with the yard.  If those boys could show good faith and continued efforts to keep their promises, then, when they asked for work, I would be sure to hire them and maybe even make work for them or recommend them to friends and other neighbors. As it is I am unable to provide a reference for them to anyone.

When they come again I will teach them more about honesty. I may explain that I expect them to keep their promises and that it helps me to know if they are honest and can be trusted and 'hired'. Good kindness (and money) often helps to open ears - and make a pathways into hearts and at times even souls.

My father taught us to be honest, in every way, at all times.
Especially when no one is watching.

He taught that honesty is first for ourself. When we are honest we know within ourself the strength and power of choice - we know we have self control, diligence, and kind respect for ourselves and for others.

My father taught us that God also sees. This was not a threat - just an additional loving reminder of the blessings of knowing, and having, the love and respect of our Heavenly Father who knows not only our acts but our hearts even when our earthy father (or mother) may not.

The 13th Article of Faith begins with, "We believe in being honest, ..." and then adds what I consider synonyms for honesty within specific contexts "... true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men, ...."

My father jokingly claimed that locks were to keep honest  people honest - I have often pondered and thought about that - about how even very honest people think nothing of a small dishonesty when the opportunity presents itself. They seem to just not think. Locks and fences may present the needed barriers to help us remember we are honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous and kind to those about us.

A well worn saying states that 'it is easier to get forgiveness than permission'. President Ezra Taft Benson explained "It is better to prepare and prevent than it is to repair and repent."  

If money (or an object) lies on the ground do I pick it up? Keep it? Try to find the owner? or leave it lay so the owner may be able to retrace their steps and find that which was lost? I can choose the best option for each situation and experience (mine and that of others who can advise me) helps me to know what choice is good, better or best.

What locks and fences do you have in your life?

What locks and fences do I have in mine?

One of mine is being 100% honest (and a bit more if possible) with God - keeping my actions aligned with my innermost beliefs. This includes not only vigilant efforts to tell the truth and not cheat in small ways (like speeding just a little bit even) but of paying an honest tithe, fast offering and making other donations as much as possible for the betterment and assistance of my fellowmen. Heber J. Grant taught Malachi 3:8-18 as a law of prosperity (and successful happiness) to Latter Day Saints. He said,

"I believe that people are blessed in proportion to their liberality. I am not saying that they always make more dollars, perhaps, than the other man. But so far as an increase in the faith and in the testimony and the knowledge of the divinity of the work in which we are engaged, men that are honest with the Lord in the payment of their tithing grow as men never grow that are not honest. There is no question in my mind. Moreover, I am just foolish enough to believe that the Lord magnifies those who do pay their tithing and that they are more prosperous, on the average, than the men who do not. I believe that to those who are liberal [with their donations] the Lord gives ideas, and they grow in capacity and ability more rapidly than those that are stingy. I have that faith, and I have had it from the time I was a boy." 

Each of us must place fences, and locks as needed, on our own ideas and behaviors. 

It keeps us HONEST!
And true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous and genuinely kind.
And full of hope too.

Honesty increases our power.
It increases our abilities to act -
to honor and help,
to love and lift
and to teach and train.

It increases our power to have and to GIVE hope.

GROWING THINGS

Flowers and gardening amaze me.
The yard and growing, living things in general.

Every year I clean debris out of flower beds, garden plots and along the fences. Every year there is more - piles more!

Have you ever thought about where it all comes from?
Out of thin air?

Today after finding some spring flowers putting up the tips of their noses to test the weather I decided it is not too early to begin cleaning up. Usually I do so in the fall but on 'lazy years' I wait for Jack Frost to reduce the volume and make stalks brittle enough that most of last year's growth can be readily raked away.

ready to rake
- and is my cable wire hanging loose?
nice fix NCTV!!   NOT!

I know from experience to start slow. As I continue to rehabilitate my muscles, 'easing' into the work is really important this Spring.

I locate my gloves  *mental note: buy new ones sans holes*,
my rake, and out I go into the chilly afternoon sun. I know that the chill just means I won't break a sweat when I get going.

A few seconds later I realize I need a kneeling pad and pruners. Jack has been a bit lazy this year and many tougher flower stalks are still pretty vigorous.  Soon debris is strewn in a broad swath from the back patio to the corner by the driveway.  I rake it up and start on the other side.  My rake comes apart.  *Mental note: get a new one when I get the gloves*.

such a pile from so small and narrow a flower bed

I didn't intend to do anything but rake for a few minutes - HAH! - I have heard about roads paved with such intentions - I had no idea that a mere 20 minutes could equal any destination on that road!  I think it was a good thing that rake handle broke!

That's better - or will be when the cables are properly secured.

Each year I clean up the old growth and soon the new green shoots start and the cycle repeats. When I moved into this house there were no trees - I planted a few small single whips.  They are big enough now to make truck loads of wood if they are removed.  They make bags full of leaves every year.  I fill my compost bins and my garbage bins with weeds and yard/garden debris over and over and over again.

 I am left considering, again, where it all comes from. It can't be dirt - the dirt is still there each year! I suppose it could be water but what is holding that water? Chemicals? Minerals? Elements?

I take small seeds (and sticks), place them into the soil, and they become - what? Out of the water and dirt and air - a tree? buckets of tomatoes, heads of lettuce? or sacks of carrots? and vegetation that composts into enough dirt to top dress sections of the garden each year?

Isn't that marvelous?

That is a lot of stuff!
All that wood and  grass,
all those vegetables and delicious fruits,
and weeds - ah weeds (and leaves) - those are what started this cycle of thought back a few years ago! I came to realize they are not just dirt, or water or chemical compositions of various elements. They are a marvel!

So are we.

Where does it all come from?

I know it is divine - prepared by an omniscient creator with a plan and purpose. These things bear witness of themselves: every plant, every bird, every rock, every tree, every animal, every cycle and every season, even the dirt itself and the water and the very air.

I also know we are divine. I know we are.

All these things and our very bodies are a marvel and a miraculous witness of the creator and his wisdom.

CHANGES

The instant Valentine's was past
I put all the baby angel cupids away in their box
 and took out the spring flowers and such.

Remember
that purple wreath?

It's had a few changes.

I kind of like it this way now. 

Keep thinking Spring!

MIRACLES WANTED

Each winter, after the flurry of the holidays when winter blahs drag frosted mornings into dull afternoons, I start my own version of a yearly miracle.  I call it 'The Miracle of the Sticks'.

I start reminding my hubby that it is time to prune the fruit trees.

I gather a variety of the trimmings into a vase
or two ...

and wait.

Bloom times vary.
(1-6 weeks)

The sticks bloom,

sometimes more
and/or sooner
than other times.

First buds
then blooms open,
and they flower
in stages,

just like outside -
but sooner

first the soft fruits and the apples later.

I think the apricots are always first to pop;

quickly followed
and overtaken by
the cherries.

No wonder
the children sing
'Popcorn Popping On The Apricot Tree'.

And then
the peaches come -
in a cloud of pink.

This year has been odd.

Blossoms are sparse
and leaves prolific.


The apple trimmings are usually covered in massed umbels but only a few are opening this time.

I don't think I have seen that in the past -
(and after opening the blooms are quickly spent)

but that's OK.

Every bit of green life cheers me.

Each miracle is unique.

Each bud anticipated.

Each flower a joy.

Each leaf a reminder -

the REAL miracle
is still to come ...

YES! IT IS

Spring is a comin'
YES! it is.

I believe that enough to cruise the yard looking for it.

I think, at times,
we have to wait
and watch
for the things we are hoping for.

Disappointing up until now -

BUT look what I found!

This may not be the 'sunny side of the street' but sure 'nough on the SW side of the house (where the afternoon sun is warm) the daffodil tips are emerging.

ADD TEN

A son recently turned 25 years old.

One of his sisters is only a week short of being 10 years older.

I always know my kid's birthdays because they are all even numbers that have some significance to other dates or family events.

Soon my daughter will be 35 -
I know because I only have to add 10.

No matter how it's done, I think adding 10 is the easiest of math -
it's just
a 1 and a 0 - easypeasy!

Wouldn't we all like to add another 0 onto our bank balance, get 10 more miles per gallon on every tank of gas or earn 10% interest?

I always wanted at least 12 kids.

When child number 3 arrived she was the first of the 10 I wanted to add (alas, that didn't materialize).

Having one child took all my time.  Having two children took twice as much time. Oddly enough, having 3 children took only half as much time and seemed to be twice as much fun.

Her nickname was 'Cookie Monster' - she loved crackers and cookies. One night quite late (after recently moving into an older home we purchased and were renovating) I heard a fairly loud rustling sound in the kitchen.  I was worried the evicted mice had returned - but the rustling seemed rather loud and out of place for mice.  Investigation revealed her [age 2] sitting on the floor, in the dark, with a newly opened box of saltines.  She had several packages open and was working her way through them -  not breaking them - simply methodically eating them.  (Back then the waxed paper package merely folded around the crackers - in much the same way as butter quarters are wrapped now.)

A blue, furry 'cookie monster' often went where ever she did - Cookie ... and Babba. Babba was a Fisher Price, yellow, cloth bodied, meant-to-be-machine-washed-and-loved, doll  (yellow was her favorite color - I swear she was born loving yellow) with an angelic face similar in sweetness to the face of the girl that owned her.  Babba seldom left her owner's side and lives on at her house to this day.

This child has a special place in our family because she gives light and love - she adds 10 - exponentially! My mother delighted in her burbling laugh; it puts Elmo to shame. Her curiosity and keen intellect even now are a constant source of pleasure.  She was trying to read at age 3 and succeeding shortly thereafter.

Age 4

She is also a decent musician - on multiple instruments. With practice she could excel, on any or many of them, but her personality was always of the easy going sort and her interests too broad to be confined to repetitive and endless practicing.

I miss all my kids now they are adults - but especially this one.

Happy Birthday Cookie Monster!