What Does it Look Like in Heaven? ~ And Writing Assignment #3

A decade has passed since I sat on the front row, near the coffin, at my Mother-in-law's funeral. For a moment my mind wandered from the words of the speaker to thoughts of my Dad who had died many years before.  Where was he?

"Where are you Dad?" My mind whispered "What does it look like in heaven, can you show me?"

I closed my eyes and I saw, as if I was standing in, a most brilliant garden. It was immensely lush and green like the foliage colors I remember seeing in Hawaii but 100 times more vibrant. My heart swelled with the beauty and wonder of it and I languished there for a full minute before I was distracted by the congregation quietly saying "Amen" as the speaker finished a loving tribute.  I felt joy, I felt amazingly rested.  I wanted to see it again so I closed my eyes but it was gone, only a memory now.

Driving home from a mundane trip to the market a few days ago, I thought how nice it is for me when my grandchildren call that I can visualize where they are while I am talking to them.  I not only hear their sweet voices but in my mind's eye I can see their lovely home, their well appointed play room with toys and books and a gymnastics mat, I can see the little red chairs and the table where they sit to play games or read books from the well stocked bookshelf.  It makes the conversation somehow 'whole' to be able to see in my mind where they are, I know the scene because I've been there.

But...where is Dale?  I know he's in heaven and I talk to him each and every day but I can't visualize what it looks like there beyond the momentary glimpse I had received from my Dad.  It would be so helpful if I could somehow get a picture of it in my mind's eye!

So as soon as I arrived home I started doing some research on what it looks like in heaven. I went to my computer and Googled that very question.

The first thing that came up was an incredible song by Dani & Lizzy called "Dancing in the Sky", Here's the youtube link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1JcPmsoNkE

It's asking exactly what I am asking and hoping. I love it. But I still need something to visualize when I imagine Dale there.  I found help. My Google search led me to hundreds of sources with hundreds of descriptions.  And then I found one book written by a man named Brent L. Top who has made "what is it like in heaven" a life-long study and his book organizes and quotes the best of what I found (and more). It's called "What's on the Other Side". I downloaded it to my iPad and began reading.

I felt very strongly that Dale wanted me to see a certain part of this book.  So without hesitancy (since I have had so many instances of his guidance this past year and 5 months and one day) I flipped through the pages on my screen until I felt to stop on these descriptions:

The vegetation and landscape was beautiful beyond description, like a rainbow, not all green, but gold with various shades of pink, orange and lavender...[There were] spacious stretches of flowers, grasses, and shrubbery, all of a golden hue. - Heber Q. Hale

I was in a garden.  All the colors were intense. The grass was a deep vibrant green, flowers were radiant reds, yellows and blues, and birds of all beauty fluttered in the bushes. Everything was lit by a shadowless brilliance that was all pervading.  The light did not cast a shadow, which I realized when I cupped by hands tightly together and the palm side was just as light as the back side.  There were no sounds of motors or discord or commotions. No sound but the songs of birds and the sounds (yes, the 'sounds') of flowers blooming. My ears were filled with a music so beautiful no composer could ever duplicate it...it was soothing, gentle,and warm and deep within me. - Mr. Dippong, quoted in Ring, Heading toward Omega

There was a tremendous sound, too. It was as if all the great orchestras in the world were playing at once; no special melody, and very loud, powerful but somehow soothing. It was a rushing, moving sound, unlike anything I could remember, but familiar, just on the edge of my memory. - Unnamed author, quoted in Ring, Amazing Grace.

He also spoke of the buildings he saw there, remarking that the Lord gave Solomon wisdom and poured gold and silver into his hands that he might display his skill and ability, and said that the temple erected by Solomon was much inferior to the most ordinary buildings he saw in the spirit world.  Heber C. Kimball  quoting Jedediah M. Grant.

Their dwellings are just like the dwellings on earth which we call homes, except that they are more beautiful.  They have rooms, suites, and bedrooms, all in abundance.  They have courtyards, and [are] surrounded by gardens, flowerbeds, and lawns.....I have seen palaces in heaven so noble as to defy description...Inside...the rooms were decorated with accessories such that words and arts fail to describe them.  Outside...there were parks where everything likewise glowed, with here and there leaves gleaming like silver and fruit like gold.  The flowers in their plots formed virtual rainbows. - Emanuel Swedenborg, Heaven and Hell (an 18th Century Swedish scientist, engineer and religious philisopher)

But O,...the order and government that was there! When in the spirit world, I saw the order of righteous men and women; beheld them organized in their several grades, and there appeared to be no obstruction of my vision; I could see every man and woman in their grade and order. I looked to see whether there was any disorder there, but there was none...The people I there saw were organized in family capacities; and when I looked after them I saw grade after grade, and all were organized and in perfect harmony. - Jedediah M. Grant.  (Note: in Sociology and Anthropology, the term "grade" is used as a stage in a process)

The people I met there I did not think of as spirits, but as men and women - self thinking, self-acting individuals, going about important business in a most orderly manner.  There was perfect order, and everyone had something to do and seemed to be about their business. - Heber Q. Hale

Clearly, the Lord's kingdom is a kingdom of useful activities - Swedenborg, Heaven and Hell

They aren't dead. They are alive, busy and waiting for me. - Unnamed author, quoted in Ring, Heading toward Omega

The spirit world will be a paradise, "a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow". Alma 40:12 Book of Mormon

Neal A. Maxwell said: On the other side of the veil, there are perhaps seventy billion people. They need the same gospel, and releases occur here to aid the Lord's work there.  Each release of a righteous individual from this life is also a call to new labors. Those who have true hope understand this.  Therefore, though we miss the departed righteous so much here, hundreds may feel their touch there.  One day, those hundreds will thank the bereaved for gracefully forgoing the extended association with choice individuals here, in order that they could help hundreds there. In God's ecology, talent and love are never wasted...A mortal life may need to be 'shortened' by twenty years as we may view - but if so, it may be done in order for special services to be rendered by that individual in the spirit world, services that will benefit thousands of new neighbors.

Oh the beauty and the peace and the joy in service and activity there! My head fell into my hands and tears fell, "Oh Dale, I sighed, "I want to see what you see and do what you are doing!  Why am I still here!!!! I want to be there - with you - now!"

And I felt his words, very strongly.  "No! Study, Learn, Serve.  Use your talents and the valuable time you have left on earth to learn about God's love and how to love and serve your fellowman.  When you die, you take with you only what you know and what you have experienced and the more you know on earth the better you will be able to serve in heaven."

So it all seems to be part of a vast eternal plan, and the puzzle pieces of my life are falling into place.

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Now...let's go on to the 3rd writing assignment for your Life Story!!

WRITING ASSIGNMENT #3

ASSIGNMENT 3 – EARLY CHURCH MEMORIES

Memories of Church

When did you first go to church?

What are your earliest memories of church?

Go ahead and include people here as well as details of the building itself. Was it comforting, frightening, inspiring? What was the temperature like and the benches...hard, soft?

Include any or all of the church buildings that you'd like to include from childhood through now.

Do you remember who you sat next to? Did you sing? Did you feel the spirit? Etc etc. etc.

Feel free to expand this to your adulthood feelings/experiences if you'd like. But on this one, only

include experiences that actually happened AT church. Well...the story about when my sister was about 3 years old she walked to church in her petticoat because she thought she would be late if she had to wait for Mother to help her get dressed would be also fit here (for her history) just fine! :o)

My Father's Day Letter to Dale ~ & Writing Assignment #2

I’m sorry I won’t be with you on Father’s Day this year Dale.  You were such a wonderful Dad to our boys. It occurs to me just now that you will be with my Dad and your Dad and all of our beloved Grandfathers up in heaven today.  Please tell them Happy Father’s Day and that I love them.  Are you able to do that?

Funny, my mind fluttered from "Dad's" to "Baseball" Seems kind of natural that they are linked together don't you think? Remember how I cried at the end of the movie “The Natural”; you know . . . the part where the father and son were playing catch in the golden wheat field?  The reason I cried was not because it had been a good story, which it had; and it wasn’t because of the way that you played catch with our boys, which you did; it was the memory of playing catch with my own Dad.  Just the two of us, back and forth and back and forth, hearing his stories and his laughter (his eyes actually twinkled when he laughed) and the feeling that we shared something very special.  Just the two of us.   I hated the mitt I used.  It was the only left handed mitt he could find in the whole town back then and it was a large red catcher’s mitt, much too big and much too stiff for my small hands but it was worth the price of a stinging palm from his fast ball to be able to share the time together.  Oh how Dad loved Baseball. During the clean up in Japan after the war, he and the other soldiers taught the Japanese boys how to play.

I was introduced to the inequality of women in sports in elementary school as my girlfriends and I would throw our stone marker onto the chalk drawn hopscotch squares and then hop and jump to the end and back and then we'd sit on the gray cement and play jacks; all the while I'd be looking longingly over my shoulder at the boys playing baseball on the grassy field by the giant oak trees.  Oh don’t get me wrong, we girls had fun playing double-dutch jump rope and cat’s cradle strings - but they just weren’t BASEBALL!

At home, Dad bought a ball for me to use on the garage door as a makeshift handball court. I practiced and practiced and soon the boys in the neighborhood wanted to play.  They kept coming back even though I could beat them soundly.  Dad installed a basketball hoop on the garage and more games ensued!  Then came a Tether-Ball installation in the driveway.  Life was good.  Dad complained (but with a proud sort of a chuckle) when he had to replace my worn out tennis shoes on a weekly basis.  That was long before brands like Nike appeared on the market.

Then it happened, one day the neighborhood boys asked, ”Do you want to play baseball at the Methodist church field down the street?”  Did I ever!  I grabbed my left handed mitt and down the street we went.  The church had long since been abandoned and the field was just dust and weeds but oh how I loved to play and I learned the finer points of the game from these guys.  I loved to bat and I could hit more home runs than any of them - in fact they finally made a rule that I couldn’t hit any more home runs because we kept losing the balls in the weeds.  Many times we would end up using tennis balls since we’d gone through the neighborhood supply of baseballs. It was VERY hard not to hit a home run with a tennis ball!  I can still hear their voices after the whack of the ball on my wooden bat moaning “Oh come on! Not again!” as the ball sailed over their heads and into the weeds.  This was the fall and winter of my 5^th grade year.  Come spring, the boys stopped asking me to play when they hopped on their bikes wearing striped uniforms and caps, new batting gloves in their back pockets and their mitts on their handlebars with a new baseball tucked inside. Down the street they went - laughing and talking until they disappeared around the corner. Gone.

But I could always count on Dad to play a game of catch after work. I could tell what kind of day he had at work by how hard he threw the ball.

Later in the season one of the boys invited me to come to a game.  I was excited until I realized that it wasn’t to play but to sit on the bleachers and cheer for him.  Girls were not allowed to play Baseball.

Sixth grade.  The boys played Pop Warner football and one of my girlfriends invited me to join the cheerleaders.  Wearing deep purple “Bears” cheerleading outfits and waving purple and white pompoms we strutted and yelled things like “Push em back, push em back, waaaaay back!”  It was disturbing as I realized early on that we weren’t actually cheering for the boys as much as we were showing off how cute we were! But still…there I was cheering for the boys.

Jr. High and finally…Girls could play baseball! Well not really, girls could play Soft Ball but on actual teams during Phys Ed class!  But the girls didn’t want to play ball.  They wanted to complain about the unstylish gym outfits and polish their nails and braid each other’s hair.  They played because they had to.  I loved those girl things too but couldn’t we just play sports for one hour???  We learned to play tag football and I loved it!  I broke my finger doing that one day.  Ouch.  Volley Ball was great fun, always played indoors during the rainy season or when the Santa Ana winds blew.

High School - My weekends were spent on the bleachers watching boyfriends play football or baseball.  Women’s lib was on its way but not quite there yet.  So for now I was allowed to sit and cheer …boys like to see you in the stand cheering them on…so “Yay”.  I was invited to try out for cheerleaders but my Pop Warner experience whispered “Don’t do it!”  The summers were spent at the beach watching boyfriends surf; an unwritten rule required that I watch closely so that I could discuss the “great ride” on any given wave….”Yay”.   I couldn’t afford a surfboard and “no decent boyfriend would allow his girlfriend to be out in the waves with the other surfers with their bad language anyway” I was told.  Sigh.  I was sure I could “hang-ten” even though I would be goofy footed being left handed and have some gnarly rides but…no.

But back to Baseball. The years moved on.  My bouncing baby boys became ball players. I sat on the baseball bleachers and cheered but with real meaning this time! Oh how I loved that they were playing baseball and oh how I loved you for supporting them with all of your heart, mind and soul! Not to mention time and involvement.  From PeeWee through Jr High, both boys played and played really well! Our youngest played extremely well in High School and at the University and he played pro for a short season too!  I was in the bleachers for every game possible.  Happy, happy times!! Recently when I paid a visit to my all-grown-up baseball son and his family, I sat in the bleachers at our 4 year old grandson’s T-Ball baseball game. I was thrilled beyond words when he stopped on his way up to bat and waved to me saying “HI GRANDMA!”  Well…sitting on the bleachers, cheering on another little boy was just where I wanted to be!  I’m a pro at it by now! I felt like you were there too.

I received a photo email recently from our son.  He was at a Houston Astros game in the incredible stadium there, his young daughter takes up the main part of the picture with the green field and stadium seats behind her.  And he wrote, “Wish you were here!”  I got a tear in my eye.  Just like I did at the end of that movie!   And as I gazed into the “everything is possible twinkle” in our granddaughter’s eyes in that photo, I’m excited to know that she can play (at least at the elementary school level) baseball or any sport she desires.  Equality is getting closer.  It only took time and many generations of women finally saying HEY! That’s not fair! But it’s near and I’m so glad to be alive to see our granddaughter benefit.

So  Baseball!  I suppose I’ll always have a tear come to my eye when the ump yells “PLAY BALL” because  Baseball connects me to the people I love the most.  From Dad to you to our boys and now our grandchildren.  Tossing the ball back and forth and back and forth. 

I love you.  I still miss you every day. I wish I could make you your favorite meal and treat you to a well deserved Happy Father’s Day.  But this will have to do for now. Thank you for being up there cheering me on as I play out this last inning of my life.  I’m hoping for some high fives when we meet again….. Lots of Love, Me. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY WRITING ASSIGNMENT #2

CHILDHOOD HOME

Describe in detail your Childhood home(s),  if you had multiple homes you may choose one or as many as you would like. (Oftentimes, even if you lived in multiple houses in your youth there seems to be one that says "HOME" to you in your memory.)

Include where it was located and what you loved about it or didn’t like. What kind of car was in the garage? What were the furnishings like inside the house?

Don’t just describe photos of it that you have seen. Describe it from your perspective, as a child.  What was the view from your bedroom window, what did the house look like, smell like, feel like, was it cold and austere or warm and cozy?

Then...write about a few memories that happened IN that house or houses that include the actual house as part of the memory (it can be at any age) 

These are things that YOU did not someone else that lived there with you. And don't say..while I was living at this house, I went to the beach and... or I was a scout and went on a scout trip and....etc. The house is the main character here and your story in this assignment should revolve completely around it. 

Don't feel like you have to list every experience you ever had in that home. There will be other chances when talking about your youth later.

 Paint a picture with your words then print it out and put it in your binder and maybe even share it with a loved one! Have them start writing and share with you!

You're on your way to having an autobiography!

Congratulations.

Guided By Silent Love ~ & Writing Assignment #1

 Midmorning Wednesday and I'm feeling totally overwhelmed, I have too much to do, too much to be concerned about and I can't locate a file on my computer that I HAVE TO HAVE for the estate lawyer. Why do I have to do all of these things!!  I search and search and suddenly I come face to face with an old Email from Dale.  "Oh that's just perfect, let's add the fact that Dale is gone and I miss him beyond reason to my other woes this morning!" I mumbled.

He always knew what to do, he always had an answer.  Where was he now! I felt the tears start to stream down my face so I grabbed my purse and keys and headed to my car.  Where was I going? I didn't know but I was headed there fast.  Tears kept falling and I began praying for direction...not for where I was headed at the moment but in my life!  Where am I going? Why do I have to wade through all of this paperwork with all of its rules and regulations and Can't Dos?

My common sense took me to a few places that needed my attention. The bank, the post office and then my stomach growled making me even more aware of the humanness of my sorry situation. I spotted Panda Express so I flipped on my blinker and pulled into a parking spot with a least some partial shade to keep the car a bit cooler on this unusually hot June day.

I walked inside and after staring at the order board for a few minutes before I realized I wasn't concentrating, I just quickly ordered the first thing and then nodded when she asked if I wanted chopsticks.  She smiled with what could only be classified as a "sympathetic smile" and handed me the chopsticks and a fortune cookie.

Funny how you are forced to eat more slowly when you use chopsticks. "Hmmm....I don't ever remember not knowing how to eat with chopsticks." I muse.  My Dad, who had been a soldier in Japan in WWII taught us how to use them when I was too young to know that everyone else didn't also learn to eat two ways..the fork way or the chopsticks way.

Dad...Oh how I loved him.  I lost him too.  Many years ago.  I was only 28 the day he died.  He too, like Dale, always had answers for me.  So did my Grandfathers and Grandmothers and Mother and Aunts and oh dear they are all GONE!

Tears burned my eyes and I stuck my chopsticks back into the food that I couldn't eat now.  I spied the fortune cookie sitting there waiting patiently for me so I smirked and whispered "Oh sure, why not" it will probably tell me I have a "cheery nature and make people happy". Ha Ha.  I wrestled it out of it's plastic covering and cracked it open. It read simply and reassuringly.....

  "You are guided by silent love"

I felt a warmth pass over my body and my troubled mind that seemed to melt my fears and it gave strength to my human weakness.  I knew this was true. I have felt all of their love silently all these years since they have been gone, guiding me, walking beside me.  I have a whole army of loved ones guiding me on with unmistakable love and concern.  I can still remember the stories they told on earth, when I could actually hear them and I remember the love they expressed when they actually held me in a hug.

And suddenly a story that Dad used to tell jostled its way to the forefront of my mind. I gathered my things and dumped my leftover food into the trash and walked to the car, grateful for the shady parking decision I had made earlier, I slipped inside and sat.  Allowing the story he told so many years ago to play again in my mind.

His Army unit was marching, ever so quietly, single file in a low swampy area that snaked in and out of the secluded areas with thick foliage on a humid day under the scorching sun on the island of Okinawa. They were on the move to a safe location while trying to avoid enemy fire. The areas that could provide shade were infested with mosquitoes.  The going was rough and their nerves were frazzled.  But they followed their Sargent who was getting guidance on his walkie-talkie.

Two of the soldiers near Dad started mumbling and complaining. They could see that if they all just went up on the ridge they could get to where they needed to be in half the time.

"No!" my Dad and several of the other soldiers whispered. "Follow the command!"

 But still the two soldiers murmured about the heat and the mosquitoes and the stupidity of what they were being told to do when it was obvious there was a better way. "Sarge knows more than you do!" Dad heard a soldier caution them in a low voice.

And on they marched slopping through the mud and silence. Suddenly the two soldiers darted away from the ranks and up the hill and stood silhouetted on the ridge.

...Two shots from enemy fire.

...Two soldiers dropped lifelessly to the ground.

The remaining soldiers hurried their steps following their leader and they all made it to safety, exhausted but glad they had obeyed the command.

Then Dad would tell us that it is important to realize that there are times in life when to follow the commands and rules of those who have a better knowledge of what is best for us will get us safely through our trials.  Even the trial of life itself.

So I drove back home. I pulled out my lengthy "To-Do" list and tackled them one by one, crossing all of the t's and dotting all of  the i's. Turns out I knew where everything was and I was able to find all of the answers.  With the silent guidance of love from my angels on the other side of the veil I found the strength and clarity of thought to do it along with the reminder that I will benefit from following the rules, even those that seem a bit stupid from my limited point of view.


Awhile ago I began sculpting a WWII soldier in memory of my Dad and his dedicated service to a war that threatened the safety and freedom of his family.  I thought I'd share it with you here.






Now let's get started on writing your Autobiography!!

EVERYONE HAS A STORY - Writing Assignment #1

Last week I mentioned how I can assist you in writing your autobiography by giving you assignments in each Sunday's blog and within 52 weeks you'll have your history written...to date.  First of all, it's important to note that the ancestors that I love the most are the ones who left their stories in a form written by their own hand.  First hand accounts through the ages that have inspired me and tied me to them.

I have had several groups where Brothers and Sisters join and write their assignment each week and share it via Email with each other.  It has proven to be a fun experience seeing each other's take on life in the same household.  Remarkably different!  Cousins joining together to share their assignments has been another experience that has been sheer delight.  I even heard of a psychologist who used it for his patients who figured out why they are the way they are through doing the assignments.  That was kind of cool to hear!  And then there was the Quilting Group who watched for the assignments each week and a Book Club and oh yes that Purple Hat Ladies Club!  So whatever it takes...just do it and have fun doing it.

ASSIGNMENT #1 – GETTING TO KNOW YOU

I'm so glad you'll be joining us!  The first assignment is different from the ones to follow; it's more of a state-the-facts kind of thing.  But I have found in all my genealogy hunts that when I can finally read (in First person) someone saying their exact name, birth date and birthplace and parentage and children...well I could just kiss them!!  And then the stories that follow that information become even more interesting.

  

Also, what I suggested to our classes (but please do whatever is best for you) is that you get a 3 ring binder and give it a title...like My Personal History or the History of.....  And then each week print out a hard copy, punch it and put it right in the binder.  It's a great idea to save it to your computer too but when it comes right down to it....paper is the thing that lasts (the format never changes or becomes obsolete and upgrades don't happen!)

Decide how you want it to look right from the start and set up your document (i.e. font, spacing, margins etc.)  - so that each week you follow the same basic format and then each page will look the same when it is in your book.  Also, please note that the assignments DO NOT always go chronologically.  I found that mixing it up a bit kept it more interesting.  So don't number the pages.

So like I say...this one is different from the assignments to come but kind of fun too.  It gives important genealogical information and fascinating facts about you...the main character of your story!

Part 1

Your Full Given Name

Do you know the reason you were given this name? (Named after, etc.)

Your Date of Birth:

Your Place of Birth:

The Places You Have Lived: (Dates here are great if you can)

Your Mother's Full Name:

Her Birth Date and Place:

Her Death Date and Place of Burial:

Your Father's Full Name:

His Birth Date and Place:

His Death Date and Place of Burial:

The Names of Your Brothers and Sisters:

Continued next page -

The Date and Place of your Marriage:

The Full Given Name of Your Spouse:

His Birth Date and Place of Birth:

His Parent's Names:

The Full Given Names of Your Children:

Part 2

Complete this however you'd like.  In story form, a straight list, or wax poetic. You could also include photos and recipes if you'd like.

These are little facts that I would have loved to have known about our own Grandma but alas, we only really know that her favorite flower was the white rose, or do I just assume that since Grandpa planted the white rose bush for her so he could pick a bouquet for her each Anniversary.  Maybe she liked lilacs best but again that's an assumption because she had those big bushes by the house!  Oh, wouldn't it be nice to really know fun little things like that?  Here's your chance to make your own personal favorites be a part of your history.

What is Your Favorite: 

(Feel free to change the order)

Sport:

Flower:

Meal: (you can include recipes here)

Dessert: (you can include recipes here)

Vacation Spot:

Leisure Activity:

Restaurant:

Book(s):

Author(s):

Color:

Scripture Verse:

Scripture Hero:

Latter-Day Hero: 

Do you remember one "Birthday Wish" you made when blowing out the candles as a child?

Have Fun!  Check in next Sunday for Assignment # 2 - it's a more creative writing one!

She Lost All Hope ~ & An Introduction to Writing your Personal History - the easy way

So I am back to the dream of hope that I mentioned in a previous blog….

While meandering aimlessly down the aisles of Hobby Lobby the other day, I sighed and said “Am I really going to be able to do this "alone" thing!?!” (Did I say it merely in my thoughts or did I say it right out loud?)  I’m not sure but there in front of me I suddenly focused on a plaque that simply said in white letters as if scrawled on a blackboard:

HOPE

 I stopped, my hands squeezing the handle of the cart and stared at the word.  Hope.  It’s a tiny little word, isn’t it? But I realize more than ever that I need it, I CAN’T lose it because as you know, “She lost all hope” is what they say when someone quits.  Whether it’s a mental, emotional or physical challenge, or working on a goal or even life itself; to lose hope is to lose it all.

 So what is it?  Can we easily define it?  Do we cling to it; do we work on it; protect it or polish it every day like a treasured possession so as to never lose it? It seems there is a power to it that pushes or pulls us along this journey of life that we are all on.  So I determined I needed to take a deeper look into it.

So on this quiet Sunday morning I find that….

In the Old Testament, Job, who suffered and overcame more loss than most, instructs us: “For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease.”

It appears that to have hope is to possess a guiding light and a power that motivates us to go on; propels us forward; encourages us to succeed even when it seems impossible.

I remember as a child the first inklings of hope being the possibility of unwrapping a wished for gift on my birthday. And now days as I try to get some exercise, it’s putting one foot in the front of the other again and again and again in the hope that I will reach a goal.  As a young mother my hope was that my sons would grow up healthy and strong and have beautiful lives. As a businesswoman I hoped that my hard work, by my husband’s side, would bring satisfaction and enough money to support our family.  As an artist, it’s the hope that my work will someday touch others in a positive way.

To the sick there is hope that an answer and maybe even a cure will be found.  To the weary there is hope that there will be rest.

Wow….Hope is the power that keeps possibilities and dreams alive. Hope is the energy that strengthens our hearts and our bodies and our souls and makes us get up and move. Hope is so strong that it can energize soldiers to be victorious in a ruthless battle and yet so fragile that it can instantaneously shatter at the moment of a mere whisper or an unsolicited thought. Hope is different from Faith.  Hope is different from Love.  Hope is different from a wish. The opposite of hope is despair.

So even though there are times when I feel just too miserable and can’t believe that I could possibly feel better…I must never relinquish my grasp on that beacon of hope that draws me forward so as not to slip under the waves of despair.  It tells me that life is good and I can work my way through this tunnel, step by step, into a future with possibilities and the ability to do all of the things that I have yet to do.

But, and this is the critical question I did say right out loud:  "How do I grasp it, hold onto it and use it?" I randomly flip open a little “thought for the day book” that is by my keyboard and my eyes rest on this quote by Jane Howard:

“Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music – the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people.  Forget yourself!!

Or in other words as that great commandment instructs:  “Love your neighbor as yourself”

Is that the answer? And an idea floods my mind and heart, actually an idea I had many years ago when asked to teach a class in “Writing your personal history for posterity”.  It turned into a class that I taught over and over again over the years and for which I developed a weekly assignment that encouraged my students to write their story because as Helen Keller said:

“Every human being‘s life is a story.  A unique story that nobody ever lived before and no one will ever live again.”

Hundreds of people have successfully used these assignments and it occurs to me that if I share the assignments with you each week for the next 52 weeks, you will have your life story (to date) written!  No charge of course…it’s just a way for me to help you, my neighbor, unlock your unique story that no one else can tell! (Don’t let someone else tell your story; it won’t be the same story)  You don’t need to know how to write, just answer my questions and express your thoughts.  And by doing it, you are not only creating something of great worth but you are actually nourishing my hope!  (Sorry, it circled back to me LOL, like that old saying “That’s enough about me, let’s talk about you…so what do you think about me?” Ha Ha)

Are you game, you beautiful souls and interesting people that are reading this blog?  I’ll start with the very first assignment next Sunday!  You don’t have to share it but keep it, print it out and put it in a notebook, treasure it and someday your grandchildren and great grandchildren will read it and it will give them the power they’ll need to hold onto the hope that will pull them through their own trials.  It’s a kind gift of yourself to them and as I’ve found in writing this blog, cathartic for yourself as well during times when you think you might have lost all hope.

I think it was Oscar Wilde who said: “Be yourself because everyone else is taken”. 

We’ll start there….next Sunday.

I didn’t buy that plaque at Hobby Lobby but I just now put a little post-it on the edge of my computer screen with those four little letters:  H-O-P-E.

Hope – It's both a noun and a verb isn't it! And with your help, I hope to never, ever lose it.