Just For Today, We Are Here!

Opportunity.  What a brilliant word. It is filled with such promise.

I read a quote this morning that has since stayed with me.  It reverberates in my mind.  I hear its echo throughout my day, taunting me, nudging me, reminding me.  It is this:

"Just for today, we are here. We are alive. And with that aliveness comes a profound responsibility to do what we can. To make meaning and beauty out of what is." ― Dani Shapiro
 
It may not mean that tomorrow we are someplace else, or that we are not alive. 

But it may.

Who ever really knows what is around the corner?

Then all the more reason to drink in the moment.  Take advantage of where we are, and whom we're with, and what is on our plate.

Perhaps its significance is more haunting because of the hints of change. Can you deny that change isn't prevalent in all of our lives in one way or another?  Our lives are constantly affected by for sale signs, doctors' diagnoses, graduations, job changes, births.  And deaths.

The challenge then lies in making meaning and beauty out of whatever state we are in. The challenge lies in living large, and drinking in the fresh sea air, and snapping a million pictures of an ever changing ocean because opportunities that are here today may be gone tomorrow.

And when our circumstances change, we embrace the newness with whatever courage is called for.

Again.

And again. 

The Miracle of It All

Some days are life changers.  Today is one of those days. I am waiting this morning for a fellow to come and put a For Sale sign in front of our home.  As we have anticipated this big change, I have felt very anxious, but as the day is finally here, I am surprised that the anxiety has subsided to a large degree.  I feel remarkably at peace as I note the closing of a chapter.

That's ALL it is!  What an epiphany.  It truly is merely the closing of a chapter in a book filled with joy and wonder.  And the expectation for the next chapter is joyful and purposeful--no excuses, no regrets, no hesitation.  It is, in fact, a great blessing that we have the opportunity to build a new home.  And it's going to be a wonderful home--built with the objective of being a gathering place to draw together our growing family.  Our children and grandchildren will comfortably be able to come home as often as they desire.  My job will be to make certain they desire that OFTEN.

I can do this!  I feel the Lord's blessings everyday as I press forward with this project.  And He is filling me with His Peace at a time that I had worried so much about.

It's ALL Good.  It really is.  Why am I such a worrier?  Has life never managed to turn out for my good in some way?  It does.  It always manages to teach me something and have my peace restored eventually.  I do not understand all the mysteries of God, but I KNOW that He loves me!  Of this I am certain.  He manifests His love in so many ways.  And today, He has filled me with peace.

And THAT is a miracle.

Too Much Jane Eyre

Chick flicks?  Why are they so popular? Why are we such dyed in the wool romantics that we continually gravitate toward fairy tales, novels, movies, anything that stirs our hearts and reminds us we were young once and were viable candidates for the starring role in our own once upon a time?

Our bodies may be old but our hearts are still beating. Is it possible to turn off the romantic spigot that still churns out the desire for palpitations caused by a sideward glance, a too-long gaze, a daydream, a song lyric, a love note?

Must our fairy tale only happen once, then fade away and turn to something predictable and careworn? Is this why marriages are set aside and families abandoned?  Is this why people walk away, searching for a renewal of the dream? This screams travesty and yet the pining seems strong and real enough that sense often is pushed aside in favor of chasing those long lost palpitations.

What is the answer then? Are movies a good idea to replace the longing? Or are they part of the problem?  Are novels an escape, or a too-potent reminder of feelings, delights, drama that are never to play in one's heart again?

Maybe books and movies paint an unrealistic picture of the dream of true love.  Did music really swell in the soundtrack of my own great romance? It seemed to. Did my prince charming really spring onto the scene with heart stopping, breathtaking heroics? That is how the memories play out in my head.

Then why could I ever hope to have them replaced with something new? How could anything new be better than the reality that was?

The problem is my heart still thinks it is young.....

What I Feel, What I Think, What I Learn

Awhile back I overheard a conversation about blogs.  With a bit of disdain, a comment was made that blogs are generally: "too sappy, too self-serving, and too preachy." Naturally it caused a bit of introspection, as well as outward 'spection of my blogposts.  Yup.  Very often sappy.  Very often about me.  Very often about what I have learned.

In pondering this indirect comeuppance and fighting the urge to put my tail between my legs and slink away, I stopped short and exclaimed:  'What the heck?'

I considered the definition of a blog, which in literal terms is the shortened slang of "web log," which merely implies a log, or journal, of one's life that is kept on the world wide web for others, as they choose, to peek inside and read what I feel, what I think, and what I learn.

I often feel emotional about things.  We that choose to feel lead heightened lives of joy and sorrow.  Our emotions are those things which set us aside from the animal kingdom in general.  My highs and lows and in-betweens are the things which will endear me to my posterity, displaying my all-too-human side. By choice, I will include in my journal the things I feel.  You may or may not choose to feel with me.

Sappy?  check

I often think.  It is one of my best qualities.  It is how I approach life and the things that happen to me. I process events by thinking about them, analyzing them, comparing them.  And I prefer to think about the things that happen to me rather than analyzing and comparing the things that happen to you. I find it is much healthier than spending too much energy on studying someone else's life.

Self-serving?  check

As I spend a life of feeling and thinking, it invariably leads me to learning something.  Halleleujah!  Life has a purpose then!  I also find that the best conduit for me to learn is to write.  That is when inspiration comes.  That is when the pieces begin to fit together.  That is when the "aha! moments" come. For me, there is not a better place for me to taste the things I am learning than as I sit down and write about my life.  The things I am learning are not intended to be crammed down any potential readers' throats.  They are for my benefit, and for the benefit of my posterity that will hopefully read Grandma's blog.

Preachy? Sure. 

I have been amazed and gratified to find that others' occasionally check in to see what Ardith is thinking about today.  But consider this a disclaimer: It will probably be sappy, most certainly about my life, and hopefully will show that I am learning something.  Proceed with caution.

A Personal Inventory: Taking Stock

It would seem easier to just drift along, letting the current of life take us wherever it will.

 Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream.... 

Life is pleasant enough.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.

But somewhere along the way, I have become convinced that life has purpose; that our decisions and actions matter; that it becomes necessary to submit to a little self-examination from time to time.  And what better time to take stock of one's life than, each year, annually, as we open gifts and eat cake.

It becomes more and more difficult to see pictures of myself.  I cringe as I observe the changes that my mind doesn't perceive. I still feel like I can do anything.  But my stamina suffers; my memory suffers; my flabby muscles, flawed complexion, fading color, present a much different picture than the one in my head.

So when did it happen?  When did I get old?  And has age brought with it any perquisites? I cannot deny that I am settling into the role of matriarch, which brings with it a cloak of honor that I hesitate to claim.  As my family gathers around me, eyes filled with love and a desire to celebrate and toast me, I feel a little like a fraud.  Who am I to be esteemed so highly, when I merely feel like a peer who doesn't really have all the answers yet either.

My days are different now.  No longer am I scrambling to keep up with active children. No longer is my schedule automatically filled with others' agendas.  I admit I enjoy this new freedom of choice.  My "must-do" list isn't really all that long; quite manageable, actually.

I do find myself benefitting from these four outstanding young adults in my life, especially as they bring lovely companions to the table with them.  My children are no longer children.  They are comrades-in-arms; they are thriving, productive, talented, active, hard-working members of society.  They are my best friends.  They share with me their wisdom, their joys, their frustrations, their unique abilities.

I feel very blessed.

I am blessed with a personal massage therapist, whose loving hands coax away the worry and stress and aches and pains.  I just wished she lived closer.

I am blessed with a son who will always be in a position to take care of his old mother; who has had a role-model, in his father, who has showed him how to honor, care for,  and love one's dear mama. He calls me regularly and lets me feel apart of his life.  We visit as the old friends that we are.  How gratifying to know that he will always make room for me.

I am blessed with my own personal yoga instructor, who gently encourages as she desires to see me regain the strength that time has threatened. What a lovely dear friend, who has now become a lovely dear neighbor. What greater gift than to share her family's life on a day-to-day basis?

I am blessed with a personal poet laureate.  I am blessed with someone that shares my love of great literature, who thrills with me at the discovery of new and old things to love. Who knew that the best friends come in the form of daughters who view the world from the same eyes?

I have been filled with an overwhelming desire to explore the world, to travel, to see its wonders.  But my greatest desire is to have a traveling companion by my side to share these things with; someone to thrill with me, to ooh and aah with me, to marvel and ponder with me.  I pray always that my beloved husband will accompany me.  I choose him.

This has become more than a blogpost.  The casual reader has my permission to withdraw due to its lengthy nature.

I daily ponder my purpose.  I consider the blessings which have been poured out upon me and struggle to find their best use.  Great books and ideas have filled my head with so much to think about. What is my role in building the Lord's Kingdom?  I have determined that my joy is full as I serve as a teacher.  I love the impetus to study diligently.  I love finding new ways to explore thought, to build upon a foundation of faith, to expand and enlarge my understanding, and to ponder the mysteries of God.  These are the things that fill my days.

I have many challenges, most of them inward.  I fight to overcome anxieties.  I find strength in my Savior.  He doesn't always take away the struggles, but He never leaves me alone to deal with them.

I find peace in beauty.  I try to surround myself with order.  I try to distance myself from the frivolities of the world.

I am weak in so many ways but I look with confidence forward, always forward.  It may mean adjusting to the new pictures of a woman I hardly recognize, but she means well. She knows love and feels it daily.

She tries to live worthy of those that arise up and call her blessed.

Who I Really Am

Today, I remember.

Today, I have energy, enthusiasm, courage, love, joy, strength.

This is who I really am.  Sometimes I forget.

Sometimes I live in a very small, dismal world that would seek to confine me within its narrow parameters.  Sometimes I understand those who choose to remain indoors always, unable to face the expanse of a broader world filled with fast cars, high demands, and great expectations.

But that's not who I really am.

I love challenges.  I love projects.  I love work.  I love hobbies.  I love people.  I love the Lord.

And that's who I really am.

Tennis Shoes Up On the Handle Bars

"I remember how it used to feel
Ridin' down ol' two mile hill
Tennis shoes up on the handlebars
Payin' no mind to the passin' cars
No doubts, no fears...."




Ah, nothing like a good ol' Randy Travis song to say it like it is.  


I remember those days well.  There was nothing like the freedom one felt speeding along on a bide as a kid.  


Freedom.  That's what I felt more than anything.  I could go places quickly; I could explore the town; I could feel quite grown up and independent.  Nothing was quite as liberating.


I have often thought about those days of riding over to main street, to friends' houses, to summer band camp with a clarinet case balanced precariously on the handle bars as I steered with one hand.


I never remember feeling like it was exercise.  It was just fun.  It was just freedom.  It was just...well in the past!


How times have changed.


Recently as an anniversary gift, my husband bought me a new bike.  It is beautiful.  It is fancy.  It has all the bells and whistles one could want in a bike, minus an annoying bike bell. I am set.


Hmmm.  Just a minute.  If I want to go to main street, I have an easier way. If I want to go to a friend's house, I can go in the air-conditioned convenience of my car.  Freedom, I do not lack.  Liberation, I do not need.


So what did I think I needed a bike for.


Oh yea. 


Exercise. 


Problem is I live in a city built on hills.  My neighborhood has so many ups and downs it is impossible to even go around the block without encountering heart-pumping obstacles.


Rats.


A few years ago my husband and I rented bicycles at the Santa Monica Pier and rode along the beach without a care in the world. On a perfectly flat sidewalk, I did get a glimpse of the freedom I had enjoyed as a kid. I believe I could have gone on for miles. And I believe that was in the back of my mind as I anxiously picked out my new beauty of a bike.


Imagine my embarrassment when the first time out for a ride around the neighborhood, I ended up having to walk my bike home, with my tail between my quivering, wobbly legs.


So I guess I need to re-evaluate my strategy.  Forty years has put me at a different place.  I may be a little smarter and wiser now (that's debatable), but I certainly am carrying more of a burden than my soft muscles and shallow lungs can handle.

"Took a little time to get up to speed

                     To find the confidence and the strength I'd need

To just let go and reach for the sky

You know, sometimes it felt I could fly....."

I guess I need to listen to Randy Travis a little more, realize that it won't happen overnight nor without loading up the bike to go find some flatlands. But I am determined not to give up.  I have had just enough taste of the past to crave that freedom again.

"It doesn't take much

                                         And I'm a kid again.

I can almost feel that wind..."

Sadly, it's all uphill from here. 

My Message in a Bottle

I've just spent the day reading a book from cover to cover.  I rarely do that.  Usually I am conscientious and responsible. Not today.  My dishes are not done.  My bed isn't made.  I am still wearing my workout clothes from this morning's walk.

But.

But I am in a different place now than I was earlier today.  Sometimes I am hampered by despair.  Inexplicable despair.  For-no-good-reason despair.

Sometimes I think I can explain it, or at least partially understand where it comes from.  Today I couldn't.  I needed to do things and yet I was paralyzed.  Not paralyzed by fear.  Paralyzed with the inability to motivate myself. 

I wish it was just laziness.  Truthfully, sometimes it is, but those days are filled with joy and the deliberate choice to play hooky and be lazy.

Knowing that my day was going to be difficult, I picked up a book to hide within. Just a book that happened to be within arm's reach.

I don't know what happened.  Maybe it was the sun on my face coming through the window.  Maybe it was reading about someone with a legitimate reason to want to run away.  Maybe it was grace from a loving Heavenly Father who sent me an important message to "Live."

We must choose, you know.



     "Just before she died, McKale asked me to promise her that I would live."

     She nodded.  "I think we all have to make that choice.  I meet dead people every day at the diner."

     "What do you mean?"

     "People who have given up.  That's all death requires of us, to give up living."

     I wondered if I was one of them.

     "The thing is, the only real sign of life is growth.  And growth requires pain.  So to choose life is to accept pain."



I know that there are people with "real" problems that face the decision to live or give up each day.  And then, of course, that makes me beat myself up for having imaginary problems.  But are they really?  I don't know what things you struggle with, and you don't know what I struggle with, and perhaps it is best if we keep it that way.

The book is called simply, The Walk.  It is by Richard Paul Evans and I found it to be engaging from the first paragraph of the Prologue.  It is elegant in its simplicity.  It captures the universal dream of running away from it all.  Admit it.  You have thought about that at least once in your life, haven't you?

I love my life.  I really do.  I have the freedom to enjoy a variety of pursuits.  I have people who really love me.  They do!  Who can say why, but they do.  I have been blessed with good health, with a sound mind, with a profound relationship with my Savior.

When life gets difficult I simply need to remember to glance upward and see that eternity is my covering, as it was with Patriarch Abraham and Mother Sarah (Abraham 2:16).  They never lost hope, but pushed forward in pursuit of the great blessings they had been promised. I suspect they even had days of discouragement.

Sometimes I wish I could write what I am feeling and send it off in a bottle in the sea.  Then I could be pretty well-assured that no one would ever read it.  It is difficult to send off a blogpost because even though it is nearly as lost in oblivion as that bottle would be, there are a handful who may actually find it and glimpse into my soul.

Treat it kindly, dear reader.  And perhaps take solace in discovering that others can have bad days too.

May we choose to live; to drink in life to its fullest, and remember that the only real sign of life is growth.

Face to Face with a Fear

I had recurring nightmares as a child. One in particular involved being in a boat surrounded by barnacle-covered whales that would come dangerously close, threatening to capsize the tiny boat.

I had successfully put those nightmares aside and had never even thought about them for years.

Until a few days ago.


I had the unique opportunity to come face to face with those fears, finding myself in a similar experience; and I squealed like a school girl with joy at each spout of water, each acrobatic jump, each aerial breach as I ventured off the coast of Maui on a whale watching expedition.

Until the whales came a little too close for comfort.

Even the captain seemed a little alarmed as the whales came within our comfort zone.  But rather non-chalantly, the captain informed us that the whales had dived and were going underneath our boat.

How would they resurface?  Would they shoot triumphantly upwards as they had been doing? How good was their vision?  Were they as aware of us as we were of them?

My heart got stuck in my throat.  I tried to remind myself of the thrilling moments just before.  The captain seemed calm.  Then so should I be.

Miraculously, I was.  It was even a bit of an adrenalin rush.

I have always been fascinated by these mighty creatures of the deep, so long as they kept their distance and I could admire them from afar.

Now we're close friends.

Where It All Begins and Ends

This is it.  This is my study, my office, my craftroom, my place of refuge, my little corner, my den, my hideout, my sanctuary.  Could it be more beautiful?

I love it.  I try to come out occasionally.  I find peace here.  I find renewal of spirit.  I find solitude and also good company. 

It is welcoming.  My family feels comfortable in stopping by, pulling up a chair and staying awhile.  I keep candy in the candy dish so they always have a "Riesen" to come see me.

It was an exhilarating process to see this come to life as I had envisioned it. It took physical work, mental challenge, and emotional investment.

And it has all been worth it.

The centerpiece of the decor is a painting, a gift from my husband. 

When I saw it, I knew it belonged to me even before it belonged to me.

It is entitled: A Place of Her Own.

The artist, James C. Christensen, describes it thus:

"I wanted to create a retreat, a secluded little nook filled with art and books where a woman could really get away from it all.  Here, the tension melts away as lilting strains of lute music drift across the overstuffed cushions."

Sounds about right, doesn't it?  I must find myself some lute music.....

A woman without a country

Sound a little melodramatic?  Yea.  I know.  And yet, it fairly adequately describes how I am feeling.  I have had a place of my own, my very own, for the last nine years or so.  It was an old bedroom abandoned by a recently graduated daughter who was striking out and making her own way in the world.  Counting on squatters' rights, I quickly moved in to claim my territory.

And the rest is history.  It has become my sanctuary.  It has become home to all my many "precious" acquisitions, mostly tools for paper crafting. It has become the place one could always find me on a quiet afternoon when most of the housework was in hand.

Over the years it took on a personality all its own, really.  It welcomed me with open arms, even as the "stuff" grew and expanded and threatened to choke out even my own little corner and my own little chair.

To peek in at the shrine that used to be, check out the pictures here.

That's right.  USED TO BE.  It is gone.  It is an empty shell of a room, bare except for two large storage cabinets that have been moved to the center to accommodate the removal of old wallpaper and the application of glorious new paint. I'm sure I will hardly recognize the place.

Meanwhile, I am stranded.  I am rattling around this old house, trying to find where I belong.  The kitchen?   Only occasionally.  The laundry room?  Please!  As little as possible. The family room?  Only when there's family around.

I have tried borrowing Brian's office.  It is a beautiful, quiet, restful place.  And yet I feel like a visitor.

Eye on the prize.  Eye on the prize!  Even though I am feeling displaced, as I consider the promise of my newly remodeled room, I am filled with anticipation and delight.  It will be spectacular.  I know it will.

But what do I do in the meantime?

The Christmas Fail!

What is the proper etiquette when receiving disappointing, disastrous, or even frightening Christmas gifts? Are you able to maintain politeness despite feeling otherwise?

In our family, some are more successful than others at hiding their true feelings. Some wear every emotion clearly and unmistakably on their faces. And I sometimes wonder if we are we more considerate to acquaintances than we are to our families?

I remember one Christmas when, try as I might, I didn't do a very good job of hiding my disappointment over a gift. It was many years ago, when my children were very small. They had gone shopping with their dad to buy mom a Christmas present. We were incredibly short on funds so any purchased gift was a real sacrifice.

I was very excited at the prospect of this gift, especially when I saw the department store box.  New clothes!  I was sure of it, and had been craving something to enliven my tired, sparse wardrobe.

Old. Lady. Clothes! (and I wasn't an old lady then!) Oh my stars. Really? I'm not sure who they thought they were buying for. My heart just sank. Ohhhhhh, how could I try and feign joy and delight when truly what I felt was disbelief and horror? I tried. I really did.

Fail.

I know I didn't even muster up a tiny squeal of false delight. What a rotten person I was.  I still feel terrible about showing my true disappointment when I knew how proud my family was of their gift for their mother. What should have I done? Politely smiled and put it away in the back of my closet? We couldn't afford to do that.

What did I do? I returned it to the store and replaced the gift with my choices from the year-end clearance sale, all the while knowing that my selfishness and pride had wounded some hearts that day, hearts that I loved and cared for more than any others.

I wish I could have handled the situation with more grace. I wish I would have been more sensitive to my family's feelings, knowing how excited they were to give.

I wish they hadn't picked out such ugly clothes.

I Left the Woods

Why do we let ourselves forget?  Why do we become so focussed on distractions that sidetrack us from our ultimate goals?  We have so much potential to think and to do and to explore and to find and to wonder.  Why do get muddled down in the quagmires of mediocrity?

Life is not meant to be static, nor stagnant.  And yet, once again, I often find myself wearing footpaths into the soft and impressible earth that used to seem fresh and new.  Some daily habits are good; many are tired and exhausting and worn out, and their repetition puts us on a treadmill that goes nowhere.

"I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there." 

I return to Thoreau.  I find refuge in Thoreau's thinking outside the box.  I identify with his impatience with the status quo and his desire for freshness and new challenges.

"Perhaps it seemed to me that I had several more lives to live, and could not spare any more time for that one."

"...how deep the ruts of tradition and conformity."

"...if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpect in common hours."

The common hours.  The expected.  The ordinary; the run of the mill; the unremarkable.  THAT is not good enough.  I want more.  I believe the seed was planted in me to expect more.  And hopefully to achieve more.

"He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary."

What am I ready to leave behind?  What lies beyond that self-imposed invisible boundary? What is preventing me from expanding my capacities?

"He will live with the license of a higher order...."

I think I am ready to move out of the "little shack in the woods".  It has been an important place.  I have learned much and reconnected with my past.  I have felt validated and cared about.  But it has become stifling and monotonous. It threatens to be consuming and common and commercial.  I cannot spare any more time for that.

I am reclaiming my time and my dream.

New Beginnings

New Beginnings.  How many times in our lives do we get to have them?  I assert that we may have new beginnings whenever we choose.  This past week we experienced an anomaly on our calendar, with the unusual and singular occurrence of 11-11-11.  Did anyone else look at all those ones and see new beginnings?  I did.  I saw those ones representing the starting line of something great.  They signified to me new directions, new goals, new definitions.

I don't know if anyone else shared those feelings with me, but that is okay.  Perhaps I was the only one who felt ready for some changes.  Perhaps only I am in need of stepping out of a few ruts and trying a new path.

In my personal study lately, I have pondered the idea of becoming a "new creature," as promised by a return to the Savior through the power of His Atonement.  Paul taught the Corinthians: "Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature:  old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new." (2 Cor. 5:17)

"The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled.  For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers." ~ Scott Peck

Here is to new beginnings.  Here it to stepping out of ruts.  Here is to the nudging of discomfort or unfulfillment or disappointment, whichever is successful in helping us find ourselves in our finest moments.

If I Could Hie to Kolob!

Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?  This is not an artist's rendering.  It is not someone's active imagination.  This is the real deal.  This is a glimpse into the far reaches of our universe.

And it is stunning.

This is just one example of the images captured on the Hubble Telescope that has been in orbit for twenty years.  And I got a first hand look at the story behind this amazing tool, which has helped us take a glimpse into space.  On Saturday, Brian and I went to McMinnville, Oregon as our destination, not to simply drive through it on our way to somewhere else.

We went to the Evergreen Aviation and Space Museum, one of the highlights being the Hubble 3D movie which we saw in the IMAX Theater.  I know much of the impact came from being in that incredible environment of  intensified sight and sound, but I was mesmerized.  I was completely engaged, with all my senses awakened, including my spiritual eyes.  I knew as I watched evidence of stars being born that creation was being documented.  I literally saw matter being organized.

If you could hie to Kolob in the twinkling of an eye?
And then continue onward with that same speed to fly,
Do you think that you could ever, through all eternity,
Find out the generation where Gods began to be?

Or see the grand beginning, where space did not extend?
Or view the last creation, where Gods and matter end?
Methinks the Spirit whispers, "No man has found 'pure space,'
Nor seen the outside curtains, where nothing has a place."

The works of God continue, and worlds and lives abound;
Improvement and progression have one eternal round.
There is no end to matter; there is no end to space;
There is no end to spirit; there is no end to race.

There is no end........

 I feel so humbled to be part of the creation portfolio of a loving Father in Heaven.  I couldn't stop thinking about how, amidst all of this splendor, God values and loves me, and counts me as His child.

We're part of something great here.


William. W. Phelps 1792-1872

Wherein lies thy Desire?

Or in other words, what do you really want?  That is the remarkable thing about life.  We get to decide what is most important to us; what we want to put our energies behind; what, indeed, are our priorities.  We really do.

Sometimes it seems like others claim our attention with their desires, that we really aren't our own person, that our priorities are replaced by what others want.  Not so.  Ultimately, our choices lead us based upon the very underlying of our ultimate desire.  Do we want a happy family?  One that loves us as much as we love them?  Then our desires are to serve them and help them to find happiness.  Period.  We lose ourselves in service.  So no complaints.  Right?

How are we using the time we have been given?  Do we make false claims that we never have enough time to do what we really want?  If all of our wasted minutes were combined, I believe we would realize that we have ample time to make great accomplishments.

Then we really have no room for blaming others, for blaming the consequences of our situations, for coming up with empty, lame excuses.

I was reminded yesterday of a great quote from a Shakespearean play,The Merry Wives of Windsor:
"....the world's mine oyster, which I with sword will open."

No one can lay claim to our lives.  They are ours.  Ours to beautify, to accomplish, to embellish, to live.  What will we choose to do?  Which path will we take?  What, ultimately, is our desire?

How exciting, how thrilling, how empowering! 

We can timidly open that oyster to seek the treasures it holds, or we can boldly, "with sword," strike it open with enthusiasm, eager to chase the rainbows that are before us.

No excuses.  No hesitation.  No timidity.

That is what I am going to do.

Bless Your Beautiful Hide!

Inspiration comes in the most unexpected places sometimes.  I have been inspired by a piano player.  From Jackson Hole.  Who accompanies a summer show at a playhouse.

In June, Brian and I took two of our daughters for an overnight trip to Jackson, Wyoming.  We wanted to celebrate Jackie's graduation from Massage Therapy School.  Part of our celebrating included tickets to see Seven Brides for Seven Brothers at the Jackson Hole Playhouse.

The lights dimmed for the show to begin.  Stragglers found their seats. Quietly, and with no fanfare, the piano player took his place at the instrument to the far right of the stage.  He had a little piano light, a ringed notebook bulging with music, and more talent than I have seen squeezed into one person in a long time.

His music was a joy to hear.  Effortlessly he coaxed it out, setting the tone for the show.  The overture was filled with the memorable melodies of this longtime favorite .  His cowboy boots contributed to the building sound, banging out the time on the pedal.  It was sweet when the music was sweet; it was raucous when called upon to be raucous.  I was enchanted.

Then a month later, I had the opportunity to be in Jackson Hole again, and to share this fun discovery with more friends and family. 

Our tickets to the same show this time around put us two rows directly behind my old friend, the piano player.  Ah!  Now I could follow along in the dim light, as he would quickly turn from page to page.  It didn't take long to realize that his fingers were playing significantly more notes than were actually written.  The fluorishes were his own doing.  The simple chords on the page were skillfully broken into arpeggios that ran the length of the keyboard.  Wow.  I was mesmerized.

So, all summer long I have been humming along.  And whistling along.  And singing along to these delightful songs.  Until I decided that I just had to have the music so I could play along as well.  It didn't take a trip to the music store.  It didn't take searching online, ordering the book, and waiting for it to arrive in the mail.  I simply searched it, paid a little money, and then downloaded and printed my own copy.  It took all of about ten minutes.

While I could never rival his expert, graceful playing, I have thoroughly enjoyed trying my hand at June Bride, Wonderful Day, Lonesome Polecat, Going Courtin', and of course, Bless your Beautiful Hide.  When no one is around, I even try to channel my memory of him and fancy that my clumsy efforts sound almost as good as his.  Almost as good as that amazing, humble, awesome piano player that finds fulfillment in a small theatre in the heart of the Rockies.  Now that's inspiring.

Where Can I Turn for Peace?

Turmoil.  It is a part of life.  It is like a muddy boot stepping into a clear, running stream, churning up the muck and mud from the bottom.  When life gets cloudy and cluttered, sometimes we are our own worst enemies by continuing to stir up more debris.

The best solution?  Be still.  Be calm, and let one's heart return to a state of clarity.  Put oneself in a position to listen to the whisperings of the Spirit which otherwise can't be heard above the roar of the crowd.

The best place to do that?

"One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after:  that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to enquire in his temple."  Psalms 27:4

Photo credit:  Portland Oregon Temple by Lynn Howlett Photography

Anniversary of an Ordinance

I wasn't very old.  In fact it was 40 years ago, exactly, that as an eight-year-old, I was guided toward my best decision.  Today is the 40th Anniversary of my baptism.

My bishop had counseled me to make note of the date so that every year I would be able to look back and remember.  I was startled this morning when I did the simple math, and realized that so many years had passed.

We remember key moments in our lives, and this was a significant event.  Perhaps at the time, I didn't completely understand the full weight of this experience, but I did feel that I was following the Savior's example and that made me feel important.

Though we lived in Lander, Wyoming, we had to travel to the Riverton Wyoming Stake Center for the baptism.  Seated in a long row with the other children waiting to be baptised, I vividly remember feeling quite self-conscious.  We were all similarly dressed in white baptismal suits and mine had some type of stain on one leg.  Carefully I sat with my hands covering the imperfection.  I wondered if it would still be all right for me to get baptized in a suit that wasn't spotless.  Should I mention it to someone?

In the years that have passed, I have learned much more about this important and necessary saving ordinance, and I have actually thought about that conspicuous blemish that bothered me as I entered the waters of baptism.  Part of Baptism is its ability to cleanse and purify all of those blemishes that are not always as conspicuous. 

As I arose out of the water, my silly preoccupations were replaced with peace, knowing that at that moment, I stood without spot, without blemish, without sin, before my loving Heavenly Father and that He was pleased with my decision and my action.

Years have passed, and I am still honored to be part of God's Kingdom on earth.  It was a good decision.

Birthday Tears

They are supposed to be happy days.  Joyous days.  Full of fun and family and cake.

And mine usually are.

I also have had birthdays filled with bittersweet tears.  Like this year.

Somehow, it seems that monumental days for my children happen to fall on my birthday.  In 2005, it was the day that my only son entered the Missionary Training Center to begin his two-year mission for Jesus Christ.  It was a day filled with pride, and joy, and heart-wrenching sorrow.  Try as I might, I could not smile through the tears.

This year was a similar experience.  On my birthday, my youngest daughter flew to Florida, checked into the Disney College Program in Walt Disney World, where she will live and work for the next five months. It was a day filled with pride, excitement, and anticipation.

And it was another tearful good-bye.  Another attempt to be brave while having my heart torn out.

I think, overall, I did pretty well holding it together.  Well, except for that one time.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to......