Standing As A Sentinel

It would seem a rather lonesome job. A sentinel often stands alone, always at the ready; to watch, to guard, to raise a voice of warning. 

A few years ago I had the amazing opportunity to visit a part of the world in which my husband and I witnessed a startling juxtapose.  It wasn't where one would expect to find knights in shining armor standing as sentinels atop fortress walls, but there amid the beauty of the Aegean Sea where it flows into the Mediterranean, we found this anomaly.  We found Rhodes, one of the splendid islands of Greece.

Perhaps many already know of  its unique history, an amalgamation of mythology and legend, but I didn't. I was startled to see that along with the expected sandy beaches, jagged cliffs, lush mountaintops, and ancient ruins of Greece, we found the astonishing preservation of medieval fortresses, a lingering tribute to the Knights of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem that came during the time of the Crusades to protect against Turkish invaders.

I have been reminded recently that among the many roles and responsibilities of parents, there falls a supreme accountability as sentinels for the family, as guardians upon the watch tower to be ever vigilant and faithful in protecting and giving a warning voice when necessary against the challenges and dangers of the world.

When those once-protected children leave home to make lives for themselves, does that role as watchmen upon the tower diminish and fade away?  Often that is how it would seem.  I recently read a reminder that put things into perspective for me:

"...at times the sentinel misses the essence of his existence.  To man the outpost, it is not.  Maybe rather it is to pen the revelations found in the solitude of introspective adventure."

This old knight sometimes gets a little rusty and weathered from being left out to stand alone in the rain, but perhaps my job is not to merely "man my post", obediently, quietly, solitarily.  As I watch ever-cautiously, maybe I can use my enhanced perspective gained from extra years of living to be the watchman on the tower, and those long hours standing alone need not be wasted.  I can be a much more effective sentinel if I use this time to study and learn and grow and fine-tune myself.  Then I can be better prepared to teach and counsel and advise and warn of dangers ahead.

And I am certainly not alone.  I am aided by others who are brave enough to share their insights and discoveries.  Let us unite together and look out for one another.  I will not desert my post, and I will try to learn something while I am here.  And if I happen to gain any enlightenment, I will pass it along.

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.

Hawaiian Music and a Linen Napkin

Sometimes we need to be ready to just react. Sometimes there is no time to think things over, or the opportunity may pass us by. I was on the winning end of just such a circumstance.

I travel often with my husband. He has incredibly broad shoulders and loves to sit next to me on a plane because he knows that I won't mind sharing part of my seat with him, which isn't always the case with less than patient strangers. I love my husband and would follow him the world over, but sometimes, selfishly, I don't look forward to the cramped quarters of the Coach section with his overwhelming presence. If price were no object, we would gravitate to the extra space in First-Class. If price were no object.

This morning as we sat at the gate waiting for the long flight which would begin a much-needed vacation, my husband gave me the greatest gift. Even before the announcement concluded that there were extra seats in First Class available for an upgrade, he shot out of his chair, as quickly as a man of his size can, and took off to the desk. He didn't wait to hear what the cost would be; he didn't wait to talk about it, think about it, stew over it, pray about it. He just went for it.

My first inclination was to follow him, stop him, and tell him we couldn't afford it, whatever "it" was. Something told me just to stay where I was. So I did, all the while trying to contain the giggling that was spilling out of my heart.

Oh my stars. Could it be? Did he really beat the little old man that had joined the race? He did. We won. We beat the odds. We won the gamble. We would be flying first class to Maui at a fraction of the regular cost. I know, because I have priced it.

So often I let common sense win. So often I take the practical approach and it serves me well. Then why did I relish the before-flight glass of water? Or the linen napkin and the hot meal? Or the mango parfait with the grilled pineapple slice, toasted coconut, and fresh whipped cream? Or the unlimited use of the little magic movie box?

You get the idea. I suppose if I traveled that way all the time, those things would become passé, but I'm not there yet. I felt like a queen and with the Hawaiian music that gently played in the background, I knew that we were off to a great start. And the extra shoulder and leg room didn't hurt much either! Perhaps we really would be able to put our cares behind us for a few days.

I am thankful for a husband who, most of the time, is very cautious, is very conservative, very thrifty.

And I am thankful that today he wasn't.

Dream Until Your Dream Comes True

I knew it would be great.  I suspected it would be very fun.  I imagined what it would be like with my entire family dressed in costume, reuniting with Miranda, wandering the streets of the Magic Kingdom with trick-or-treat bags at Mickey's Not So Scary Halloween Party.

Oh. My. Stars.

It was outrageous.  It may have been one of the craziest, funnest, most memorable nights of my life.

The fun had begun with the planning.  As the mother, it once was my responsibility to plan everyone's costume for Halloween.  Now that my children are all adults, I am merely a facilitator, helping them pull together their own ideas.  I trusted that they would each have a great concept.  They did.  Some let me in on their plans; some chose to make an entrance with surprise on their side.

Some attracted a lot of attention. 

Some had little boys coming up and wanting to feel their muscles.

Some had little girls coming up thinking she was a real princess.  (Really? C'mon, really? It must have been too dark for them to see the wrinkles...)

My only regret was that my energy drained out long before the party was over.  Grumpy and I had to resign ourselves to a bench in front of the castle, watching as all the merrymaking went on around us.

It was extravagant.  It was an extra expense, requiring extra planning and packing to bring costumes in our suitcases.  Was it worth it?

Every penny.

Dream on, dream on, dream on.  Dream until your dreams come true.....

Making Anything Beautiful

Some people have the magic touch. I don't know how much of it has to do with their raw material, but in the way they prepare and present, anything can become a work of art. This past weekend at the Pike Place Market in Seattle, this became apparent with the wares on display. Each individual grower or producer or artisan had fashioned exhibits that were stunning in their simplicity. And I wasn't the only one that was snapping pictures of nature at its finest.

The more I see of life and the more experiences I have under my belt, the more I am reminded that we all possess our own unique skills and talents. As I moved through the crowds, seeking out photo opportunities, I knew that others were seeing things that I wasn't. I was wishing I had the "Artist's Eye" that is so evident in photographers' work. But I can't pretend that I do. I am such a literal person; I see the world as it is, straight-up.

We are all imbued with creativity, and have creative outlets. My hobbies may not be the same as your hobbies, but therein lies the challenge of discovery. While I may admire the talents of others, I must uncover, embrace and explore my own.  I am reminded of the brilliant address by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf on the power to create.  Enjoy!

Every Moment: RED LETTER!

How many times do we let our expectations run too high?  We imagine something as too amazing to be real, then have to reconcile reality with imagination.

Our weekend in Seattle actually exceeded my expections, including the World Premiere of Disney's new musical, Aladdin.

As we sat in our seats, awaiting the overture, I don't know when I had anticipated a show more.  I had been humming the familiar tunes in my head all day.  I had tried to fathom how they would deal with various parts that were critical to the storyline.  Without the benefit of animation or blue screens, what would they do?  These were real people on a real stage, within certain, very real parameters.

It was magical.  It was breathtaking and mesmerizing.  It was as much fun on stage as any show I've ever seen.  In addition to all the tried and true favorites, the new songs were every bit as compelling.  I had been apprehensive; could these new songs be just as endearing as the old ones?  With the exception of one, they were all just as hummable, just as engaging, just as memorable as the originals.

The casting was superb.  It was delightful to read in the program some of the comments from the cast.  Courtney Reed, playing Jasmine, "is soooooo excited to be playing her favorite Disney princess!!!"  She thanked her parents "for letting her watch Aladdin non-stop as a child."  James Monroe Iglehart felt "so blessed to be living out a childhood dream in playing the role" of Genie.

I don't want to give any spoilers so I won't expound on how they dealt with the challenges, but really, it only took just a little suspending of one's belief to be transported off to that magical place, engaged by engaging characters, and spellbound by beautiful music. 

Before the show, the director of the 5th Avenue Theatre, promised us that one future day as we saw the incredible success of this show, we would be able to boast that we were there in its infancy, helping as the audience, to mold it, to shape it, to aid in its development, as we laughed, as we oohed and aahed, as we cheered.  Our reactions were being taken very seriously.

I bought an Aladdin sweatshirt during intermission.  I just couldn't resist the idea of being one of the very first to own one.

Our hotel was a short walk away from the theatre. 

Our pre-show dinner was just as memorable as the show itself, including the "best steak" Brian has ever had, and a banana bread pudding for dessert that even outshone the key lime pie.

Our self-guided tour of Seattle the following morning was beautiful.

Every moment will be a special memory. Every moment was, indeed, Red Letter!

What's Stopping You?

Have you ever lived with regret?  Have you ever let an opportunity pass you by because you were simply too afraid to act upon it?  Sadly I have, certainly more than once, but perhaps none quite as memorable as a snorkeling trip in the Caribbean.

When my children were young, we planned and took "The Trip of a Lifetime".  We actually called it that because we never anticipated being able to do it again.  In preparation for this trip, which would include a snorkeling opportunity, I bought my kids snorkeling gear and took them to a local pool to practice.  I wanted them to get the most from their adventure in the ocean, without being hampered by not being familiar with the equipment.  They practiced going along the surface; they practiced diving down and following it with a mighty burst of air to clear the water from their snorkel tube.  They were ready.  What followed was one of the most humbling experiences of my life.

It was a beautiful day on Castaway Cay.  There was sun; there was sand.  I think Brian and Miranda were staying near the shore while Jackie, Robert, Erica and I set out like the adventurors we were to snorkel in the bay.  Feeling reasonably confident with their snorkeling skills, each took off in their own direction to explore the recesses of this normally out-of-bounds world.

Drifting along casually, enjoying the sun on my back, I was startled by something sparkling in the sun.  Wait a minute.  What IS that?  Hovering at the surface of the water, I eventually determined that a golden ripple in the sea grass was indeed REAL gold.  I was able to make out a claw hook and realized it was a gold necklace, left behind some other day by some other snorkeler. 

Now is the time to use that practiced skill of diving to the bottom and claiming my treasure.  And yet?  I WAS PARALYZED WITH FEAR.  I couldn't bear the thought of filling that tube with sea water.  I couldn't bear the thought of sucking in a mouthful of salt.  In hindsight, apparently my brain was paralyzed too.  It never occurred to me to rip the snorkel out of my mouth and just hold my breath.

 

Did I claim the prize and come home the snorkeling champion?  No.  After looking for any kind of landmarks, of which there were none, I surfaced to look for one of my expert children to dive for me.  In doing so, and treading water with my fins, I churned up all kinds of sand and sea grass and was never able to find the necklace again.

Life brings all kinds of lessons, doesn't it?  This painful one has always remained in the back of my mind, never to be forgotten.  I think of it whenever an opportunity comes along that, for one reason or another, fills me with fear.  I think of it whenever I read scriptures that speak of fear like: "but you feared and the time is past"(D&C 9:11), or "there were fears in your heart, and verily this is the reason that ye did not receive" (D&C 67:3), or "But with some I am not well pleased, for they will not open their mouths, but they hide the talent which I have given unto them, because of the fear of man" (D&C 60:2).

I hope you are not living with regrets due to fear.  They may be the most painful kind. 

Not really a Gum Chewer, But....

Finally, there is a temptation in the gum world that calls to me.  The flavor is, very convincingly, that of Key Lime Pie without the sugar nor the fat.  And in my world, there are few desserts that are more satisfying.

My husband and I have made it our mission to find the very best Key Lime pie, and we have taken our mission to some great destinations.

Easily the best we ever found was in, no surprise, the Florida Keys.  A few years back, Brian took me with him on a business trip to Miami.  The convention was a bit of a disappointment, so we found ourselves with an extra free day in Florida.  So what does one do?

We rented a convertible and took off down to the Keys.  Retrospectively, this may have been one of my best days.  It was beautiful.  We didn't have time to go all the way to Key West, but we found Key Largo to be as charming and delightful as anything we could have imagined.

Imagine all of these wonderful memories called to mind because of a new pack of gum.  Powerful gum....

Honeymoons and Exotic Places

Should you, or shouldn't you?  That is the question.  Should you take a honeymoon to some exotic place, or should you spend this important "get-to-know-you" time in a familiar setting?

The data has been collected with this conclusion:  if the opportunity affords itself to go somewhere uniquely beautiful, DO IT!  Just DON'T DRINK THE WATER!

Brian and I have tried to send our married children off in a big way.  Using points from our Disney Vacation Club membership, our gift to the newlyweds has been a Disney Cruise.  Robert and Josalyn cruised in June of 2008 down the Mexican Riviera, leaving from a port in Southern California. 

Erica and Derek recently cruised out of Florida for a honeymoon trip through the Bahamas.

 
Brian and I, too, were fortunate to fly off to some far away, exotic place to begin our married lives together.  We were thrilled to have a week in Puerta Vallarta, Mexico.  For both of us, it was our first trip out of the country and it sounded very extravagant and romantic to us.  For the most part, it was.  Do have I any regrets?  Yes.  We had a lousy camera that took very poor photos, so most of our memories are stored on our internal memory discs.  And as unseasoned travelers to third world countries, naivete in drinking unsafe water and eating unsafe produce had very unfortunate effects.  When you are spending 24 hours a day with someone you adore, it takes away a little of the glamour when half of that time is spent in the bathroom....

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.