The View From Here and Writing Assignment #37 High School Part I

I was just a young, new mother when we relocated our little family from Los Angeles to a quiet hamlet bordering a redwood forest near the beautiful coastal city of Santa Cruz. We loved it there; the pristine beauty, the clean air, the peace and quiet.

We moved into a cabin we had rented at the edge of the forest and settled down to domestic bliss; coaxing our baby boy to take his first tottering steps, shopping in the local market for heirloom tomatoes and portabello mushrooms, watering the hanging fern that grew to great lengths thanks to the sunlight that filtered into the large windows that covered the front of our A-Frame home-sweet-home.

As a bonus, it was just a ten mile drive through the forest that brought us to the city and the breathtaking views of the ocean and picnics on the beach and to watch the local surfers.

When Dale was at work I would load the baby and the baby stroller into the ’65 Ford Mustang convertible that I just had to have during a pregnant moment a year before. It was such a sweet little car - destined to be a classic but at that point just a cute old car.  I loved it, in spite of the fact that because of it I learned what a butterfly valve was. When the car wouldn’t start I could pop open the hood, find a small rock to prop open said butterfly valve, go back behind the wheel, turn the key and voila down with the hood and off we would go - baby and me.  Off to a park with a walking trail through the redwoods where we strolled – delightfully enveloped with the silent majesty of the forest and the intoxicating aroma of pine needles. We’d reach what would become my favorite bench - a favorite because it was at the base of one of the largest trees; far enough into the woods to feel magical and far enough into the walk for my baby to have finished his bottle and to be sound asleep allowing me the freedom to pull out a book to read and enjoy those  few exquisite moments of ”me time” that mothers of babies find so elusive.

As Christmas approached we bundled our little family up in parkas and woolen hats, put the top down on the Mustang, laughingly called it our “one horse open sleigh” and drove to the designated spot in the forest where we were allowed to cut down our own tree.  Dale chose one that I feared was much too large but he sawed and chopped and twisted and down it came to the squeals of a one year old and the muffled clapping of Mommy’s gloved hands. Into the car it went sticking way out over the trunk but the little trio happily sang “Dashing Through the Snow in a One Horse Open Sleigh” while Daddy waved goodbye to the attendant and Mommy prayed the tree would stay put in the back of the car until we made it home and up the steep driveway.

In truth, it was a meager Christmas due to the fact that the business that had taken us there, well let’s just say it just didn’t work out. We were determined to go out on our own and make it there anyway but our savings were quickly used up; we had to sell one of our cars, the nice one and despite our best efforts, things were looking grim.

We were being faced with having to move back to the smog and traffic and heat of L.A., having to admit defeat, moving in with my parents and leaving a life we had so carefully chosen and had so enjoyed.

While Dale went to close down his office and then over to pay the final rent on the house, I tucked my baby into his stroller and with tears streaming down my face brought on by an intense sense of loss, fear, disappointment and failure; I went for a final walk in the forest. I pushed my way slowly over the pine needles to the bench at the base of my favorite tree. It was huge, the width of a small car and as tall as a skyscraper. As my son slept, I tucked his blanket under his chin and I leaned back in the absolute silence of the forest. I peered through the branches that reached forever upward and felt a kinship with that tree…my problems were as big as it was! Insurmountable and unconquerable, all seemed lost. How could I possibly do all that would come next?

And then, overhead, just a dot of silver sparkled in the sky many miles above the tree. I squinted my tear filled eyes and watched a glistening jet, high and silent in the brilliant blue pass overhead. And in that instant a thought came to my mind…”The pilot of that plane looking down on this giant tree would see it as being quite small from his vantage point!”  And suddenly, I began to view my vexing problems from a different perspective. A loftier view! In the grand scheme of things this was a challenge to be sure but not the end of the world and certainly not something that I couldn’t handle. A list of the blessings I still had and the potential opportunities ahead populated the optimistic part of my brain and a feeling of peace and of renewed strength flooded my soul… and I bowed my head and whispered “Thank you!” to the compassion and understanding of the most high one who was viewing my problems from a much higher vantage point than even that jet pilot.  I hurried back to the cabin to pack for moving. No more tears, I was ready to turn the page and tackle the next chapter.

Many many chapters later I find myself looking back down on my life from a loftier point of view. The children have grown, the grandchildren are growing, Dale is gone. 

I’ve enjoyed life, tackled many things, bitten off more than I could chew more than once, made good decisions, made some bad ones, suffered through some things (key word here is through), left a few too many things to do until now that should have been done in younger years or should have been done all along…and then…. ”OH DEAR, how can I do it all?” I feel myself begin to panic; I clench the arms of my chair and my mind is whisked away to that moment again... looking up up up at that giant problematic redwood tree in the forest that day so many years ago and just as I wipe away a tear I suddenly get a strong and yet calm directive to look back more closely at my life from the view I have from here and now and with the strength of experience to move ahead without fear to the next chapter.

Once again, I bow my head and whisper “Thank You!” No tears today, I’m ready to turn the page and tackle the rest of this book of life.

I quite like the view from here.

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WRITING ASSIGNMENT #37 - High School Part I

Describe your school (What did it look like?Where was it located?:

What were you called? (ie the Tigers, the Cougars) What were your school colors?

Describe yourself as a teenager (hair style, fashion, idioms, etc. ) What things were important to YOU?

Describe your best friends during high school.

Where did you and your friends spend time after school and what did you do there?

Were you involved in school sports? Clubs? Music..drama...dance?  Tell about them, your biggest successes and flat out failures.

What were your favorite subjects and why and of course the reverse...what subjects did you not like or even hate.

You're Not Alone

I remember the very first day of kindergarten.  For many days leading up to that crucial day I had been educated by every tall person I knew, with the enthusiastic details of the wonderful things I would learn and the fun that I was certain to experience and of the new little people that would instantly become my good friends. Even so it was with a certain amount of trepidation that I entered the class room and not surprisingly it was colorful to be sure, the teacher was kind as was expected but I looked into the wide eyes of the children and other than the little boy who was clinging desperately to a ragged and well- loved stuffed monkey, we were all, each and every one of us, standing there feeling totally and utterly…alone.

What did I do?  I jumped in and figured it out!

That’s the first time I remember that feeling.  That “all alone” feeling that is so familiar to me now.

I remember having it again when I had the lead in the school play “Babes in Toyland” in Junior High. It was my solo and I was suddenly on the stage by myself. The rest of the cast had parted (as was scripted) to the wings and I faced the audience with nothing between us but a song. I was alone.

What did I do?  I SANG! For all of it was worth, I sang my song!

In High School I accompanied the choir and at our concert the solo piano part came, the choir stopped, the director looked at me and the only thing between me and the audience were my fingers on the keys. The moment before the director gave the motion with his baton seemed like a very long and quiet time, all eyes were on me. Me alone!

What did I do, I played; I played my heart out.

It occurs to me that these and many other “all alone” times in my life have helped to prepare me for this one. 

Now, please note that alone time is far different than “Me time”!

“Me time” was that rare snippet of time I fought for and treasured as I slipped into a warm bubble bath surrounded by candles and the wafting trills of classical music while I blissfully let the rest of the world go by outside the door.

I think it was Ronald Reagan who when asked how he liked retirement retorted that retirement meant that every day was the same and frankly that just ruined his weekends!  And so it is that suddenly becoming a widow and being alone for the better part of my days and the full part of my nights has completely and totally squelched the purpose of, the need for and the indulgence in “Me Time”.  It’s not the same now and I must admit… I miss it.

So I’m thinking that I must have known some sort of strategy back in my youth about dealing with being alone that perhaps I need to dust off and revitalize now! Regardless of my efforts -  the standing alone in a crowd or feeling aware of being alone on the center stage in this play I call my life comes around often! It’s a daily anxiety in fact! 

It also occurs to me that I’m not the only one. There is an army of widows and widowers out there as well as people both men and woman who haven’t found their soul mates and feel the serious pangs of aloneness. 

There are children going to the first day of school, teenagers taking their first solo drive in the car, college kids entering their first lectures, adults taking on a new job and people moving to a new town or a new home in an unfamiliar neighborhood.  In fact, we all feel alone at some and actually many times in our lives.  Those moments where we stand as just one human being alone and we are suddenly aware of it. With all of our senses, we feel it.

So at my age I should be an old hand at it by now right? Well, not so much.  So I did a little research, thinking I’d find the advice for the anxiety that children feel upon entering school for the very first time and what I found can be applied to adults at any point of aloneness as well.  Just see if you can’t enter your “feeling alone” situation into the following scenario and consider the advice given as help for us…now!

Helping Your Child Cope with Back-to-School Anxiety

 https://www.anxietybc.com/parenting/helping-your-child-cope-back-school-anxiety

Anxious feelings are normal and expected during times of transition or change. This is especially true for children and teens going back to school, or for first-timers starting kindergarten. This transition can be stressful and disruptive for the entire family!  Prior to the first day of school, your anxious child may cling, cry, have temper tantrums, complain of headaches or stomach pains, withdraw, and become sullen or irritable. 

(So do you see how similar this is to adult loneliness situations?)

Worries are Common. Anxious children and teens worry about many different school-related issues, such as teachers, friends, fitting in, and/or being away from their parents.  Some common worries include:

• Who will be my new teacher? 
• What if my new teacher is mean?
• Will any of my friends be in my class? 
• Will I fit in? 
• Are my clothes OK? 
• Will I look stupid?
• Who will I sit with at lunch?
• What if I miss the bus? 
• What if I can’t understand the new schoolwork?
• What if something bad happens to mom or dad while I am at school?                                 

(Yup, all of those things still are part of our adult anxieties!)

Although it is normal for your child to have worries, it is crucial to make your child attend school. Avoidance of school will only increase and reinforce your child’s fears over the long-term, and make it increasingly more difficult to attend.  Besides missing school work, children and teens who stay home because of anxiety miss: 

• valuable opportunities to develop and practice social skills
• important chances for success and mastery
• being acknowledged and praised for talents
• fostering close friendships with classmates

Most importantly, anxious children and teens who miss school cannot gather evidence that challenges their unrealistic and catastrophic fears!

(OK I’m not talking about going back to school here…but getting out in the world?... pretty much the same right?)

How To Deal With Back-to-School Worries!  

Below are some general strategies parents can use to deal with back-to-school worries, followed by a schedule leading up to the first day of school.

  

Look after the basics.  

Nobody copes well when they are tired or hungry. Anxious children often forget to eat, don’t feel hungry, and don’t get enough sleep. Provide frequent and nutritious snacks for your child during this time, you also need to build in regular routines, so that life is more predictable for your child. These routines can involve the morning and bedtime habits, as well as eating schedules. Encourage your child to share his or her fears.  

Ask your child what is making him or her worried. Tell your child that it is normal to have concerns. Before and during the first few weeks of school, set up a regular time and place to talk. Some children feel most comfortable in a private space with your undivided attention (such as right before bed, or during mealtime). Teens often welcome some sort of distraction to cut the intensity of their worries and feelings (such as driving in the car, or taking a walk).   

Avoid giving reassurance...instead, problem-solve and plan!  Children often seek reassurance that bad things won’t happen in order to reduce their worry. Do not assure them with “Don’t worry!” or “Everything will be fine!” Instead, encourage your child to think of ways to solve his or her problem. For example, “If (the worst) happens, what could you do?” or “Let’s think of some ways you could handle that situation.” This gives you the opportunity to coach your child on how to cope with (and interpret) both real and imagined scary situations. You will also be giving your child the tools he or she needs to cope with an unexpected situation that might arise.

(I’m so loving this advice!)

Focus on the positive aspects!  Encourage your child to re-direct attention away from the worries, and towards the positives. Ask your child, "What are three things that you are most excited about on your first day of school?" Most kids can think of something good, even if it's just eating a special snack or going home at the end of the day. Chances are that the fun aspects are simply getting overlooked by repetitive worries.   

Pay attention to your own behavior. It can be anxiety-provoking for parents to hand over care and responsibility of their child to teachers. Children take cues from their parents, so the more confidence and comfort you can model, the more your child will understand there is no reason to be afraid. Be supportive yet firm.  When saying goodbye in the morning, say it cheerfully – once!  Ensure you don’t reward your child’s protests, crying, or tantrums by allow him or her to avoid going to school. Instead, in a calm tone, say: “I can see that going to school is making you scared, but you still have to go. Tell me what you are worried about, so we can talk about it.”  Chances are, your child is anxious about something that requires a little problem-solving, role-playing, planning, and/or involvement from the teacher.  

(Since I’m both the parent and the child in this scenario…I need to consider both sides carefully!)

I’m taking strength in the realization that in my quest to conquer the stigma of being alone I am in fact…not alone!  And I have been in training for this since…well since kindergarten.

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I'll restart the autobiography writing assignments next Thursday, I hope you'll use the time to catch up! 

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time (a smidgen over a week ago) there was a Grandma who decided that nothing would make her quite so happy as to have a good visit with her grandchildren and their mommy and dad. 

So she got up really early, before the sun was even awake and she loaded her suitcase into her car, drove to the airport and got on a plane. In fact she got onto a very big plane and settled down into her seat and said, “This will be wonderful!”

The plane rolled out onto the runway and Grandma looked out the window excited with anticipation to see the ground going by so very fast and looked forward to being able to feel the plane rise up into the clouds but instead of taking off  - the plane slowed down and the pilot made an announcement…

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it seems we are having some mechanical issues up here in the cockpit and we need to return to the airport and have you all get out and get into another plane.”

“Oh too bad!” said Grandma.  But if that’s what it took to get to see her grand-kids then she was okay with that.

Many hours later the new plane had arrived at the gate and Grandma followed the single file line onto the plane and once again buckled herself into a seat by the window.

This time the plane took off speeding down the runway and then with a rumble and a bump they were up and they soared over the forest and they flew over the farmlands and passed over a great desert until they landed at an airport somewhere halfway between her home and the children’s home and she had to wait for yet another plane to take her the rest of the way to her family.

Many hours later she was on a new plane, her third one, she buckled her seat belt and looked out of the window at the setting sun. Up Up Up they went and she looked down at more desert and then ranch land passing beneath them as the sun slowly sank on the horizon.

But then she couldn’t see anything at all, It was dark now and Grandma had journeyed through two time zones in order to be with her little ones.

Suddenly lights, lots and lots of lights shining up from a big city.  Time to land!

Daddy (Grandma’s wonderful son) met her at the airport and after a big hug; he loaded her suitcase (that was stuffed with presents for her grandkids and grandkitty) into the back of his car. It was after midnight when they arrived home so Grandma didn’t get to see the little ones until morning.  But then, Oh what fun they had!!

Together they laughed and they played and all of Grandma’s dreams came true.

For one whole week the days were filled with love and happiness and treasured experiences.

And then one morning, before the sun came up and as the children still slept soundly in their beds, Mommy drove Grandma to the airport.  All of the hugs and goodbyes and tears had been shed the night before.

A few hours later, Grandma buckled herself into her seat by the window and breathed a heavy sigh. “My that was wonderful” she said.  And she closed her eyes until take off.

Flying through the air once again, she looked down from her window and watched ranchlands and then deserts and then farmlands pass beneath her and finally, after many many hours she saw the forest again.  She was home.

Her car was waiting for her in the airport parking lot. It started right up and Grandma said, “Oh thank you, you wonderful car, my good good friend.”

There was a little rain falling on the windshield as she drove away which felt very much like teardrops but Grandma refused to feel sad.  She started to sing, like she always does when she doesn’t want to be sad..”Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day (what a day) I’ve got a beautiful feeling...everything’s going my way”

As she drove closer to home her heart leaped a little in joy. Home is a good place to be. She was happy to see that the trees were still wearing their coats of many autumn colors in her absence and it brought a sense of comfort and welcome as she drove by them.

Home now, she pulled her suitcase out of the car and pulled up the handle. It followed her easily inside the door of the kitchen.  She stopped to inspect what she saw there. Everything was just as she had left it.

And it was quiet.

Oh So Quiet.

So very Very Quiet.

So awfully, terribly quiet.

No kitten playing peek-a-boo; no children doing handstands and flips or playing games of Sorry or Chess; no Son saying so many interesting things to make her marvel and feel so very proud, no World Series games playing in the background;  no daughter-in-law making caramel apples or braiding a little one’s hair. And there would be no family prayer tonight, no “Goodnights!”and “I love you’s!”, No hugs or kisses when tucking the little ones under their blankets.

Grandma sat down in her big comfortable chair. She quickly vetoed the thought of making dinner for one.

She was alone and the loneliness felt like heaviness in the air.  The way a thick fog feels in the early morning.

She knew the feeling well. It has been her constant companion since Grandpa died. She had developed many tricks and techniques to fight and avoid this terrible lonliness but she couldn’t think of any of them right now.

She realized she was too tired to cry and too tired to fight it so she closed her eyes and dreamed of all of the happy things they had done together. She thought of her granddaughter looking like an Olympian on the balance beam at the gymnastic meet and winning the overall GOLD Medal, she will now go on to State, it’s a really big deal.  Grandma dreamed of playing chess with her 6 year old grandson and going trunk or treating with him - so handsome in his Ninja Halloween costume. She dreamed of walking through the beautiful art museum with her son and eating crepes at a Parisian restaurant. She dreamed of being in awe as her daughter-in-law told her of the incredible things she was accomplishing at her work. She dreamed of dinners of smoked salmon and of the clever things that were said around the dinner table and the daily hugs and the laughter and the tender moments.

Grandma woke up with a smile several hours later and once again decided as she had decided before that she was definitely alone but she didn’t HAVE to be lonely.  Especially not now that she has more happy memories just behind her eyelids when she closes them each night.

For it was all just as wonderful as she had hoped it would be.

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And so this journey of being alone continues. To my surprise and with a fair amount of consternation... It’s an ongoing process with as many emotional twists and turns as the plane ride I just took and it takes “action” and a good plan to deal with loneliness and loneliness inevitably leads to that tool of the adversary...Discouragement.. Sadly, the plan to ignore it doesn’t make it go away it only allows it bloom like sugar poured onto yeast.   

 I just have to keep going, keep working on it, even if I don’t feel like it or even if I feel weak.  I glance over at the post-it note on my calendar, it reads: “You Brave, Brave Warrior You” and it gives me courage. I am once again aware (and it's something that amazingly requires a constant reminder) that even a little Encouragement, however you can get it, is a powerful antidote against the poison of the most dreaded emotion...Discouragement.  And I move on with a plan while I also remind myself that at any given time if Plan “A” doesn’t work…there are still 25 more letters in the alphabet. And it’s OK for me to use all of them if needed!

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

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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.