Well Pleased

Thankfully, we are never too old to learn.  I received an important lesson this past weekend.  It doesn't change what I do, but it has made a major change in the way I think, and hopefully in how I express my feelings.

As a delightful Mothers Day gift, my husband took me to Idaho to be with all of our children.  It was the only thing I had wanted.  It was a weekend filled with love and laughter and warm fuzzies and opportunities to see my grown children in action as outstanding young people.

We were able to hear one daughter speak in church, giving an eloquent address on the motivating force behind service, that being love as taught by the Savior.  Brilliant.

We were able to gather for a family dinner prepared by my innovative daughters who found a place big enough for all of us, who served wonderful homemade food, and who made it as lovely as it could be.

We were able to also attend church with my son and his family, witnessing his great contributions in leadership and music. 

This was when I received my significant learning moment.  Following the meeting we were able to visit for a few moments with my son's bishop and I expressed to him how proud I am of my son, a rather trite and hollow-sounding, yet sincere sentiment. This good man took a moment to teach me a more significant expression.

Being proud of our children is good, but more importantly, it is good to "be pleased" with them.

I was taken aback.

Surely he was absolutely right. 

Being pleased with our children bespeaks something even greater than pride.  I can be proud of what they do; proud of their achievements; but on a higher level is this idea of being pleased with who they are, being pleased with their choices, being pleased with the development of their character and their integrity.

So today I pay tribute to my children and express to them how pleased I am in who they have become.  I may be proud of how hard they work at becoming educated and independent.  But of more significance, they are outstanding, thoughtful, virtuous young people in whom I am very pleased.

And to add a bit of wisdom from Emerson, I hope my children will always remember:

"I wish the man to please himself, then he will please me."

All Are Needed By Each One

When is one at their best? Why, when they are in their element, of course.

What does it mean, then, to be in one's element?  When are you in your element?  When am I in mine?

What brings out the best in you?  What would you describe as your ultimate circumstances, your most favorable light, your best accoutrements?

Have you ever filled your pockets with treasures, beautiful rocks that sparkled in a river bed, or iridescent seashells found glimmering among the seaweed, only to bring them home and find that they have somehow lost their charm? When no longer in their element, their value appears to have fled.

I often feel like that drab little pebble which was beautiful amid the interplay of sunlight and water, yet quickly becomes dreary and common and no more worthy than to be cast aside.

Ralph Waldo Emerson discusses this theme in a poem, entitled Each and All.  The following is an excerpt:

All are needed by each one;
Nothing is fair or good alone.
...
The delicate shells lay on the shore;
The bubbles of the latest wave
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave,
And the bellowing of the savage sea
Greeted their safe escape to me.
I wiped away the weeds and foam,
I fetched my sea-born treasures home;
But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
Had left their beauty on the shore
With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.


I think I am in my element when I am in active roles as mother and grandmother. That is when I shine. I delight in delighting those around me, in meeting their needs, in bringing smiles and happy tummies and comfort and contentment. To paraphrase Browning, Children in the House, All's right with the World.

My personal challenge lies in finding other times and ways to sparkle.  Perhaps being in our element isn't possible all the time, and indeed, may become old and weathered if it is too commonplace. 

In looking toward our Savior, Jesus Christ for an example, we find that He was always in His element.  He showed love and forgiveness and hope and encouragement and patience and kindness, and while doing so, radiated a heavenly light that never dimmed, never faded, never became dull nor drab nor dreary.

I know my independent, adult children really are living their lives as outstanding, productive young people, making good decisions and working hard to become educated and to support themselves.  I couldn't be more proud.  But I am also thankful that in some way, I believe, they will always need me. 

As I will always need them.

They make me sparkle.

"All are needed by each one;
Nothing is fair or good alone."

Not Dead Yet!

My mind has been turned to things of eternity.  I have been thinking about potential; I have been thinking about my life's mission; I have been thinking about where I am on the timeline of my earthly life.  It was driven home with resounding power, as I was sitting in the temple, that as I approach the mid-century mark I am far from being done with my life's work.

Seriously, in all practicality, I could very well be merely halfway through my life.  Then why do I sometimes feel that I am nearly ready for retirement?  My children are grown, life as a full-time mother has abruptly changed with a nest that is pretty empty.  I have been reminded that I still have a lot of living left to do, and more importantly, I still have a lot of learning and contributing and refining to do, with probably many years left ahead to do them in.

What does this mean then?  Does it mean that I resign myself to the aches and pains that are knocking at the door?  Or does it mean that I must meet this conqueror with a full-battle attack?  Do I let myself become old, as is threatening, or do I reclaim my youthful health by trying a little harder?

If I am, perhaps, only halfway into life could that also mean that I still have hobbies left to discover and to perfect?  Does it mean that I still have thoughts to think and dreams to imagine?

I choose to think that I do.  I am reminded of a popular phrase from Monty Python, (surprisingly) which proclaims:  "I'm not dead yet!"

From a more expected source, I have also been inspired by the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, who recognized that he too has a lot of life left in him.  In his essay entitled Experience, he contemplates the threads on the loom of time, and the picture they paint of our life's work.  He wisely admits:  "I know better than to claim any completeness for my picture.  I am a fragment, and this is a fragment of me."

So, even though sometimes I feel that I have seen it all, and done it all, and feel very smugly wise in my "old" age, I truly am but a fragment when compared with what I am capable of.  I do not know even half of what I should.  I have not served and blessed enough of God's children to have begun to repay my great debt to a loving Heavenly Father.

The world is full of opportunity.  What a gift.  We have also been given a gift of time:  "And the days of the children of men were prolonged, according to the will of God, that they might repent while in the flesh..." (2 Nephi 2:21)

Our days are prolonged that we might finally figure out all that we must know and all that we must do.  What a gift.

I'm not dead yet!

Hanging on Every Other Sail

Life is exciting and thrilling for everyone but us, right?  So and so has greener grass, the Joneses have a bigger boat, etc. etc.  Isn't that how it sometimes seems?  I was startled to discover that one of my philosophic heroes, Ralph Waldo Emerson, also had occasional pity parties.  While reading his essay entitled:  Experience, I am learning that Emerson wasn't afraid to show a little cynicism, he who is usually very optimistic.  About ten pages in, he himself admits that  he had "set his heart on honesty in this chapter," apparently not wishing to sugar coat the realities of life and life's experiences.

My favorite passage is this:  Every ship is a romantic object, except that we sail in.  Embark, and the romance quits our vessel and hangs on every other sail in the horizon.  Our life looks trivial, and we shun to record it."

I had to laugh at this.  Isn't it the truth?  Why do others' adventures always seem, atleast outwardly, like smooth sailing and pleasant breezes, compared to our own storms and rough waters?   A few months ago I experienced the lifelong dream of sailing on a tall ship.  It is was beautiful; it was exciting to be in the middle of all the action; and it was FREEZING cold, something I had only moderately prepared for.  When its sister ship sailed gallantly past, in all its splendour at full sail, did I think of its own passengers, huddled together in the cold as we were on our ship, or did I focus on the romance of its masts and sails?  I saw what I chose to see, just like everyday I choose to see the roses in others' lives, while forgetting that they may also have a few thorns that they are dealing with.

A wise man I know remembers to look for the positives amid the setbacks.  He looks for the steadiness that may be accompanied by otherwise quaking hands.   And to Emerson's credit, he also recognizes that: "Life is a series of surprises, and would not be worth taking or keeping if it were not."

The true message here, though, is to claim your life, accept it, embrace it, and as Emerson insists, "record it!"  Our lives are exactly the perfect proving grounds for us, individually.  My trials are mine and I will take them, if God can foresee what I have yet to learn.  You enjoy your roses and your green grass and the romance of your ship.  I'll take the thorns and the weeds and the tempests that come my way.  Because they are building strength of character only yet to be discovered.

Like Coming Home

"...it was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together... and I knew it. I knew it the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home... only to no home I'd ever known... I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew. It was like... magic."

I still remember the first time I held hands with Brian Haws.  We had just parked the car at the Salt Lake City Airport, were crossing the street to go pick up his parents, when he reached out for my hand.  It wasn't planned.  It wasn't premeditated.  It just happened as naturally as anything in the world.  It felt right.  It felt warm.  It felt like...magic.  It felt like coming home.

Today we celebrate 28 years of coming home, of being in a marriage that stands the test of time and space, and every kind of test that life can throw at two people.

I hesitate to share openly here about the depth and breadth and height of my love for Brian Haws.  It is too dear to my heart; too sacred.  And yet I can share great quotes from others about the true nature of love.  That is far enough removed to honor it, without my becoming a blubbering mess.   Maybe.  I see and hear things all the time that remind me of my husband.  So many songs, the ones with happy endings:

"I'm gonna love you forever

Forever and ever amen,

As long as old men sit and talk about the weather

As long as old women sit and talk about old men.

If you wonder how long I'll be faithful

I'll be happy to tell you again

I'm gonna love you forever and ever

Forever and ever amen."

Is it any surprise, that my friend, Emerson, also has much to say on the subject of eternal love and the metamorphosis of the marriage relationship?

"Their once flaming regard is sobered by time...At last they discover that all which at first drew them together...had  a prospective end...and the purification of the intellect and the heart from year to year is the real marriage....That which is so beautiful and attractive as these relations, must be succeeded and supplanted only by what is more beautiful, and so on for ever."

He is right.  Time passes, and we change.  Love changes.  It may no longer be the breathless and heady elixir common to youth.  It becomes fuller, and richer, and more stable.  And certainly more gratifying.

Happy Anniversary to the love of my life.  To me, there is nothing in the world as lovely as coming home.

(Thanks to Sleepless in Seattle, Randy Travis, and Ralph Waldo Emerson, for their timeless quotes on love.)



"Insist on Yourself; Never Imitate"

I was reminded today why I choose to blog.  I was reminded by reading other blogs that I follow.  Each is unique.  Each shares the author's own notable, exceptional perspective of their world.  And I was inspired.  And I was grateful to be given the opportunity to have a glimpse into their lives, their minds, their hearts.

Isn't it remarkable how different we are from one another?  We may share very similar experiences, similar paths, similar circumstances; yet we process them with our own special brand of uniquity.  So why not have our own little website, our own personal URL that is filled with the things we love, the thoughts we think, the dreams we dream?

Lately I have become absorbed in an obscure book.  I stumbled upon it last summer, while it sat upon the shelf of a used book store in Ashland, Oregon.  My daughter, Miranda, and I were immersing ourselves in a literary weekend, replete with Hamlet and Pride and Prejudice on the stage of the Shakespearean Festival, a lovely old-fashioned room in a quaint little hotel, and a self-guided tour through the many old book stores that line Ashland's main street.

It is the kind of book that probably would be overlooked by my children when I am gone, as they sort through my faded and tired possessions.  Perhaps if I give it a little attention now, it will have more meaning and value to them when that fateful day eventually comes.  Perhaps instead of tossing it into the giveaway pile, one or more of them will realize that it was a favorite and seek to uncover for themselves the wealth of wisdom I am finding in its yellowed, cracking pages.

This one small, unpretentious book bears the title and the collection:  The Complete Essays and Other Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson.  There is a reason that Emerson is one of the most oft-quoted literaries; he has some amazing insights and the ability to express them with pith and power.  Picking up his book everyday is like clicking open his blog.  It is insightful, it is inspiring, and it gives the reader a glimpse of his life, his mind, and his heart.

The underlying theme of his "complete essays and other writings" is the importance of being true to oneself.  He boldly states: "Insist on yourself; never imitate."  And with that, he promises:  "that which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him.  No man yet knows what it is, nor can, till that person has exhibited it."

I am so thankful for what I learn from others.  But I will not try to imitate them.  I have decided to look for what I, alone, can do best, no matter how far and wide I must search.

You might consider "following" Emerson, too.

Just For the Fun of It!

Have you ever done something just for the fun of it?  For no real purpose other than to just gather with friends for good conversation, good food, and good fun?  This past weekend my husband and I did exactly that.  We hosted what we called a "Black and White @ the Beach" Party. 

I am finding that often in our lives we go from one requirement to the next; crossing off all the things that must be done while neglecting the seemingly superfluous things. My friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson reminds us that there is a need to make extra time for what he calls the "best property of all":

     "We take care of our health, we lay up money, we make our room tight, and our clothing sufficient; but who provides wisely that he shall not be wanting in the best property of all--friends?"

That is what we did this weekend.  We sought to take care of what we feel is as important as our health, as critical as our livelihood, and as valued as our family; we sought to nurture our friendships.

It was an opportunity to show them how much they mean to us, to spoil them a little, and to thank them for their involvement in our lives.

We couldn't feel more blessed to call them our friends.

Step Forward in Boldness

Why not?  Some things demand a boldness that may not come naturally, that may not fall within our standard modus operandi.  There are times in our lives when we need to step out of our comfort zone, to finally be daring and bold!

It is usually when the odds are not in our favor.  It is usually when, once in motion, there is no turning back. 

But even the likelihood of failure far outweighs living with the nagging wonder of having failed to try. The "what ifs" in life are the hardest pills to swallow.

I have been immersing myself in Ralph Waldo Emerson of late, and I found a quote from his journal that I find unusually stirring.  It is this:  "Let us answer a book of ink with a book of flesh and blood."

Now I don't presume to necessarily grasp exactly Emerson's meaning from this, nor do I even guess what your interpretation would be.  But, to me it is about inspiration.  It is about taking our studies, taking the things we have read and then acting upon them with our whole souls, holding nothing back.  It is to step forward with boldness and not just live our lives vicariously through book characters or another man's thoughts and dreams.  At some point, it becomes our turn to "write our own book", to lay down our own story; to hold nothing back, to not just dream the dreams but be ready to bring them to life.

Perhaps I have come to that point in my life.

Perhaps you have too.

Legends of Sleepy Hollow

Last Friday I took a step backwards in time.  At least that is what it felt like.  And I found a circle of friends which I would have wanted to be apart of.  I would have hung around their perimeter until they would have had to invite me to join them.  I saw where they lived; where they read, studied, and wrote.  I saw where they pondered and communed with nature.  And finally, I saw where they were laid to rest; all within yards of each other, in a peaceful spot on one of the hills of Sleepy Hollow Cemetery.

You see, I was in Transcendental Central, to borrow a term coined by my daughter, Miranda.  I was in Concord, Massachusetts, the lovely little tranquil spot outside the bustle of Boston; the place where the Revolutionary War began, where first rang the shot heard round the world.  Historians delight in the significance of this important place.  Literaries delight in its significance as the birthplace of the Trancendentalist Movement.

I went to Walden Pond.  I really did.  And it was as peaceful and beautiful and inspiring as Thoreau said it was.  I walked the pathway he regularly took from the pond to his little shack.  I saw the replica shack that has been built in the spot of the original.  I sat on his doorstep, and looked out to see the things he saw.

I'm pretty sure he would not have looked favorably upon the extensive parking lot, the gift shop, or the bikini-clad swimmers in his pond.  But they didn't really detract too much from the spirit of the place.

The real monuments to their greatness don't reside on the shady hill of Sleepy Hollow.  They rest on the bookshelves of homes and libraries all over the world.  Their lasting impact can be felt as one explores their revolutionary thought.  They believed religion can be a personal thing, with spirit touching spirit.  They were missing a few critical pieces of truth which their contemporary, Joseph Smith, just a state away in New York, was restoring to the world.  I believe they were ready to hear and would have been receptive to the restored Truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and would have welcomed Joseph into their circle too. 

I Hate Quotations.

Well, I don't really, but apparently Ralph Waldo Emerson did.   To quote him:  "I hate quotations.  Tell me what you know."

I hope you were able to see the irony in that.  It certainly has gotten me thinking.  (Gosh, I like when that happens...)  I, for one, am guilty of falling back on using a good quotation when I can't think of anything original to say.  Why do we think we can appear wise simply by the use of someone else's thoughts?  It really is a cop out, isn't it? 

That is why I love the second part of Emerson's quote:  Tell me what you know!  That's better, isn't it?  I love to hear what is really on people's minds.  Granted our humble, pedestrian thoughts are usually not very grand, but in them lies reality.  In them is our effort to make sense of life, whether it be at its most delicious or its most bitter.  That is what makes it real.

Although I do love a good quote, particularly one that stimulates thought and pondering, I am going to try to use them in moderation.  If I blog about a quotation, it will be one that enables me to lead into "what I really know".  Or think.  Or wonder about.  Or worry about.   Perhaps the use of quotations is most valuable when it lends itself to sharing more about oneself.  That will be my yardstick.  I suppose I could fill up my blog everyday with poignant, pithy, and philosophical quotes from the greatest minds of all time. 

But then how would you get to know me?