I Want to Hold Your Hand and Writing Assignment #36 - Holidays

An interesting side effect of living alone is the realization of how much you can actually miss the human touch.  I mean I communicate all day long via social media and phone conversations but none of that equals the satisfaction of a heartfelt touch.

I looked at my hand the other day, wiggled my fingers, sighed and whispered to the air “Oh Dale, I wish I could just feel your hand on mine!  I miss that!”

And I heard his voice say in a quiet but earnest tone, “Oh how much I miss that too!”

How very odd that I hadn’t thought of that before.  Perhaps I just think that he is in a better place and things are all pretty wonderful. And…I’m sure they are, he’s not in pain any longer, and he’s with a society filled with his family and ancestors that he learned to respect and love throughout his life because of their great stories of faith and courage. But of course, and it seems so obvious, now that I think about it, he can’t touch me any more than I can touch him!  I backed off from feeling sorry for myself and began embracing the loss that he is experiencing and wishing I could comfort him.

It made me wonder what else he is missing.  What else can we do on earth that a spirit who once lived and worked and loved and played here can’t do now?

There were so many things he loved here.  Things that I know he didn’t take with him because I had to deal with them after he died!  Through many tears and hard work I either gave them to loved ones, donated them to those who were in need or kept them for my own need to feel close to him.  But the fact remains, he didn’t take even one of those treasured things with him! 

I remember walking through the Metropolitan Museum in New York City seeing the exhibits and collections of treasures that had been placed in burial chambers of ancient kings to accompany them to the afterlife.  Since I was walking by these items thousands of years later and thousands of miles from where they had been placed in the burial chambers but removed for protection from looters or the ravages of time, it was fairly clear to me that the kings had not actually taken those opulent and treasured belongings with them into the afterlife either.

So what did they take?  What do we take from this life?

I don’t believe that “things” are that important to Dale now. But wanting to bounce a little grandson on his knee or swing him up onto his shoulders for a ride or to feel the sweet kiss of his precious granddaughter or get a hug from his all-grown-up son who is a man now, or giving aid to someone less fortunate, or as I felt that morning, just holding my hand; these are precious earthly things that can only be experienced here with our mortal ability to reach out and touch.

Those chances to touch and to experience life, to learn, to make choices and grow, to give of ourselves and become who we knew we could be before we came here.  These are all earthly delights to be treasured and enjoyed here.

My mind seemed to open up to other concepts.

I felt like regardless of how much time we have here that we shouldn’t spend it simply “enduring to the end” although that is important. The idea is not simply getting to the other side, it’s getting as much out of life (and I’m not talking about adventure per se but learning and giving and developing and understanding) as much as we can, right up to our final days.

So how do I do that? I pondered.  And then it occurred to me that I do and have for as long as I can remember, make a To-Do list each night for the following day.  I realized that the majority of the entries, although important and extremely necessary are things that are required to "survive" and just a few things were written in that would fit into the category of "to thrive".  So I decided I would make a division on my daily To-Do list.  One titled "Survive" and one titled "Thrive".  

In my mind’s eye I saw myself packing my bags for a trip to heaven. Not with earthly treasures but with experiences, knowledge, good works and wisdom joyfully obtained right up to the very end. Filling each invisible valise with the many real treasures of life, including the sweet memory that was the absolute joy of simply....holding hands. 

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WRITING ASSIGNMENT #36 - HOLIDAYS

Describe how Holidays were spent in your childhood home.

The sights, the sounds, the smells, the tastes the activities, the worship.  Who all were there? What did the holiday mean to you?

Describe how Holidays are spent in your home now.  What do you do in your home today that reflects (or rejects) this childhood experience? (Don't forget to express why)

Tell of your most memorable Christmas and New Years and Thanksgiving.  And don't forget National Holidays and birthdays!

Have fun with this one!

One of God's Sweetest Gifts - And Writing Assignment #35 Siblings

“What do you think?  Shall we still walk?” I texted my sister the other morning.

Two seconds later her text reply was simply a “thumbs up” icon and a smiley face Emoji.  

There appeared to be a break in the rainy weather so I pulled my hair back into a pony tail the way I have since  ~ well since I can remember, put on a warm jacket and drove over to her house to pick her up. 

We have a favorite parking spot by the massive oak tree filled park which we walk through (she brings almonds and walnuts to feed the squirrels) and then we head towards our favorite lookout spot by the lake.

The sky was still heavy with gray clouds and we dodged puddles as we walked, hmmm when did we get to be too old to take pleasure in splashing in puddles?  But alas, my mind was heavy with sadness after experiencing another event that only emphasized the reality of loss in my life, feeling not at all in a puddle-splashing kind of mood anyway.

We made our way to the point and swish-swashed the standing water off the bench that was strategically anchored in place by some thoughtful soul to allow us to look out over the lake and we sat down. We watched the geese and we watched the seagulls and we watched the lone boat making its way from an unknown point A to an unknown point B.  I sighed heavily as I realized that the grandeur surrounding us didn’t calm my troubled mind and then the words spilled out and she listened, and she nodded with that unconditional love nod that she has had since ~ well since I can remember, and she understood my angst and she comforted my heart and I felt better.  We stood and retraced our steps back the half mile to the car, still dodging puddles and stopping again to feed a grateful squirrel, but I felt happier now.

Later that day, a text from her. No words just this picture.  I printed it and put it in a frame and it’s standing on my shelf where I can see it often, a reminder of one of God’s sweetest gifts.  I am blessed and once again as I continue to meander down life's journey with all of its puddles…I am fine.

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WRITING ASSIGNMENT # 35 - SIBLINGS

Give the full names, birth dates and birth places of each of your siblings.

Then describe them ~  How they were as children, how they were as teens, how they were (are) as adults.

Tell who they married (if applicable) and the names of their children (if applicable)

Discuss your relationship with each one of your siblings - sharing stories and experiences that you shared together. Things you learned together that you are grateful for or sad about.  Things that you wish you had done, things that you would like to do now.....

A Thought....My great great aunt adored her sister, my great great grandmother.  It is through the wonderful autobiography of my great great aunt that I know just how really wonderful my great great grandmother was! What a blessing that they not only had such a good relationship with each other but that my aunt was thoughtful enough to write about it.  A true gift to us!

In Need of Some Polishing and Writing Assignment #34 Trials

The date is fast approaching where I will mark 45 years since I happily and willfully committed to sharing my life with Dale. A life that would be, as he always said, to stand beside him, not below him and not above him but at his side as his equal and yet under his arm for protection and near his heart for love. I liked that.

One of the sparkling moments I remember about that wedding day is my dear sweet Grandfather at the wedding reception. He looked happy, no make that joyous, well even better, there was the glow of a perfectly contented man about him. I had asked him to make and serve the wedding cake that Grandma had become famous for over the years.  She died a year before and he took over the duty of making the cakes, actually even long before her death as she struggled and struggled with health issues.  I watched him (in the kitchen of the house he had built with his own hands) make a cake one day. I eagerly tried to acquire the secret recipe.  But alas, it was a handful of this and a handful of that.  And his hands were easily twice the size of mine. A sprinkle of this and a sprinkle of that.  No measuring cups or measuring spoons or recipes ever appeared and there were so many ingredients that I gave in with a smile and a request that he would make a cake for me on my wedding day. “That’s fine, just fine” he said as he always did with that twinkle in his eye. 

Four years later he was gone. Funny it seemed to me that this man would live forever.

I read his autobiography yesterday. I thought it had been lost but to my delight, my sister had it! I read of his trials and of his constant bravery in overcoming the most horrific challenges meeting them head on and he never once lost his faith or his love of life or love for his wife and children. Together he and Grandma faced loss of crops, two world wars, the depression of the 20’s the depression of the 30’s, his home being struck by lightning and burning to the ground and that was after his childhood with a broken home, and being a victim of an uncaring step-mother, having mumps, chicken pox, measles, smallpox, diphtheria, scarlet fever, nearly freezing to death in 50 degrees below zero weather and having his legs and arms turn black from frost bite until his brothers rolled him in the snow and slowly the color returned.  And this is to just name a few things!  The accidents, the burst appendix, the devastating tornadoes and the home engulfing flood etc. etc.

   

And yet…AND YET…he was one of the most spiritual, most happy, most peaceful and devoted men I have ever known. I used to love riding with him in the harvester where he would prop his Bible up against the steering wheel to read as he moved down row after row of golden wheat. He never stopped believing, he never stopped progressing, he never stopped…well he just never stopped!

A great man, a great leader and happy as a lark in the simple act of serving cake at my wedding reception.

We asked him once how he was able to overcome all of his trials and he just smiled and said oh it was just the Lord’s refining fire.

I came upon this writing during a google search one day and it has stuck with me ever since.  Sadly the author is unknown so I can’t give the credit which is so richly deserved:

THE SILVERSMITH

Some time ago, a few ladies met to study the scriptures. While reading the third chapter of Malachi, they came upon a remarkable expression in the third verse:

    "And He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver" (Malachi 3:3).

One lady decided to visit a silversmith, and report to the others on what he said about the subject.

She went accordingly, and without telling him the reason for her visit, begged the silversmith to tell her about the process of refining silver. After he had fully described it to her, she asked, "Sir, do you sit while the work of refining is going on?"

"Oh, yes ma'am," replied the silversmith; "I must sit and watch the furnace constantly, for, if the time necessary for refining is exceeded in the slightest degree, the silver will be injured."

The lady at once saw the beauty and comfort of the expression, "He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver."

God sees it necessary to put His children into the furnace; but His eye is steadily intent on the work of purifying, and His wisdom and love are both engaged in the best manner for us. Our trials do not come at random, and He will not let us be tested beyond what we can endure.

Before she left, the lady asked one final question, "How do you know when the process is complete?"

"That's quite simple," replied the silversmith. "When I can see my own image in the silver, the refining process is finished."

And I think of Grandpa. And I think of my own trials and the challenges I face on a daily basis. Is this the Lord chipping away (like the song says) at what I don’t need, a change in the making to become closer and closer to who I’m meant to be? And my mind wanders back in time to the 9 year old “little girl me” playing in the vacant field next to our home. It was filled with dirt and rocks and I discovered quite by accident one day that once broken the ugly old rocks were beautiful inside!  I ran to the garage and opened Dad’s tool chest and carefully pulled out a hammer which I took to the field and put one egg sized rock upon a larger flat one and gave a quick smack with the hammer and voila! Beauty within. This became a fun hobby.

Perhaps these trials of mine that feel at times like a hammer’s blow are actually refining and revealing and readying me to be polished so that I can glow with the joy of contentment and of a life well lived like Grandpa did on that wedding day?

I don’t feel as if Grandpa is laughing at me for thinking my challenges are so great when his were so much more horrendous (he surely could) but I do feel of his love and concern. And I feel the strength of his support and just knowing he became who he was meant to be (because he never stopped or murmured or gave in) is what I needed to push through another day while the Lord is lovingly working on a better version of me and giving me the chance to move closer to His glory.

        "Change In The Making" by Addison Road (check it out on youtube!)

There's a better version of me
That I can't quite see
But things are gonna change
Right now I'm a total mess and
Right now I'm completely incomplete
But things are gonna change
'Cause you're not through with me yet

This is redemption's story
With every step that I'm taking
Every day, you're chipping away
What I don't need
This is me under construction
This is my pride being broken
And every day I'm closer to who I'm meant to be
I'm a change in the making

Wish I could live more patiently
Wish I would give a little more of me
Without stopping to think twice
Wish I had faith like a little child
Wish I could walk a single mile
Without tripping on my own feet
But you're not through with me yet

This is redemption's story
With every step that I'm taking
Every day, you're chipping away
What I don't need
This is me under construction
This is my pride being broken
And every day I'm closer to who I'm meant to be

From the dawn of history
You make new and you redeem
From a broken world to a broken heart
You finish what you start in everything

Like a river rolls into the sea
We're not who we're going to be
But things are going to change

I'm Livin' redemption's story
With every step that I'm taking
Every day, you're chipping away
What I don't need
This is me under construction
This is my pride being broken
And every day I'm closer to who I'm meant to be
I'm a change in the making
I'm not who I'm gonna be
Moving closer to your glory

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WRITING ASSIGNMENT #34 - TRIALS

Take time to write about the trials and challenges you have had in your life and how you overcame them or fell prey to them!  Give advice to your posterity on how you handled them or should have handled them. Teach! Share your experiences with the wisdom that you have gained.  And if you are young and still going through life's challenges - write down your commitment to yourself  to stay strong and to not be consumed with the trials or experiences that come your way. Anytime you read something that gives you strength to persevere - keep a note of it in this chapter of your autobiography.

The "What If's" Potholes

OK so I was driving down the highway entertaining random thoughts that filled my head as they often do when I don’t have anything particular to think about, and out of nowhere I started meandering down a mental path pockmarked with all of the potholes of “What If’s!”  What if I had done this, what if I hadn’t done that? What if Dale had gone to another Doctor? What if we had made different choices? What if…What if….what if….would Dale be here with me now?? 

The anger surged and hot tears started to flow.  I stopped at a red light and let the tears fall and pounded my hand on the steering wheel. A quick glance to the left and I caught the eye of a child in the car next to me staring wide eyed with a concerned and puzzled look on his sweet little face.  I quickly got my act together and wiped away my tears and tried to give him an "I’m Okay" kind of a smile and the light turned green.  He was gone and I wondered how many decisions he would be making in his life and hoped they would all be good ones!

So where did it get me…going down that path that still exists even after over 2 ½ years alone? That path strewn with What If’s…What did it get me? As always it got me Nothing! Nothing changed, nothing could, just more tears and sadness which is nonproductive and even harmful!  So I rallied and thought OK what I need to do is to get off this road filled with the potholes of What If’s and get back on the path with the stepping stones of “What Now’s?”

Home now I continue to ponder. What decisions do I want to make now to be certain that 10 years from now I don’t find myself on the “Oh What If?” path looking back at these years or worse hitting  the “Oh if I’d only!” potholes?

I’ve worked so hard trying to accept, understand and survive my circumstances and emotions that have followed with me since Dale died. Is it any easier now? Not really.  It’s different but it’s still not easy.  I used many of those “What Now” stepping stones to get me where I am.  It has been a long journey and I have experienced so much but the pain and the loneliness are still intense.  Pres. Thomas S. Monson described it best as this:

“After the funeral flowers fade, the well wishes of friends become memories, the prayers offered and words spoken dim in the corridors of the mind. Those who grieve frequently join that vast throng I shall entitle “The Long Line of the Lonely.” Missed is the laughter of children, the commotion of teenagers, and the tender, loving concern of a departed companion. The clock ticks more loudly, time passes more slowly, and four walls do indeed a prison make.”

He gets it.  That’s exactly how it is. And once again I ask myself… What now? But no answers come this time.  I feel discouraged and afraid and I start to face the reality of what I am trying to do and begin to make a quick mental list of all the potential failures and disappointments and hard work…. and then….I pray…and then…. I think of Peter.  

Peter walking on the water towards Christ, he is walking on the water!  But then he looks around him, he must be thinking that this cannot be possible, he must be thinking of all of the reasons why he can’t possibly be doing this! And he starts to sink into the water and I too feel myself sink but into despair and I feel broken.

And Jesus said to Peter,  “O ye of little faith. wherefore didst thou doubt?

I pause in my self-pity. After all that has happened these last 2+ years, all of the miracles ~ all of the help, am I suddenly lacking in faith? Am I looking around at all of the potential reasons why this is impossible and doubting that I can succeed…alone?

I remember a talk given by Jeffrey Holland and look it up.  He said:

“If you are lonely, please know you can find comfort. If you are discouraged, please know you can find hope. If you are poor in spirit, please know you can be strengthened. If you feel you are broken, please know you can be mended.”

And then he quoted this poem by George Blair:

The Carpenter of Nazareth

In Nazareth, the narrow road,

That tires the feet and steals the breath,

Passes the place where once abode

The Carpenter of Nazareth.

And up and down the dusty way

The village folk would often wend;

And on the bench, beside Him, lay

Their broken things for Him to mend.

The maiden with the doll she broke,

The woman with the broken chair,

The man with broken plough, or yoke,

Said, “Can you mend it, Carpenter?”

And each received the thing he sought,

In yoke, or plough, or chair, or doll;

The broken thing which each had brought

Returned again a perfect whole.

So, up the hill the long years through,

With heavy step and wistful eye,

The burdened souls their way pursue,

Uttering each the plaintive cry:

“O Carpenter of Nazareth,

This heart, that’s broken past repair,

This life, that’s shattered nigh to death,

Oh, can You mend them, Carpenter?”

And by His kind and ready hand,

His own sweet life is woven through

Our broken lives, until they stand

A New Creation—“all things new.”

“The shattered [substance] of [the] heart,

Desire, ambition, hope, and faith,

Mould Thou into the perfect part,

O, Carpenter of Nazareth!”

So I step back onto the path of What Now’s and suddenly I’m coming up with "What Now?" answers.