Author Archives: Janet

About Janet

I was an early baby boomer, born at the end of WWII. I had all the blessings of growing up in the 50’s and the turbulence of coming of age in the 60s’. I went from a school girl in a Midwest university town, to a New England hippie, then to a Utah Mormon, and finally becoming a happy Idaho grandma. My family is filled with awesome people – talented and highly ethical who serve others and love their children and grandchildren – a very great heritage. This is the story of my journey to reconcile all these different identities. I didn’t understand myself well, so of course I didn’t communicate well. I either spoke out too easily and too harshly or not enough and stuffed my feelings, typical 1950s behavior. As the adults around me raced to recover from the Great Depression and World War II, their children heard the call of the new science of psychology and a non-material value system. The result: The Generation Gap – something new under the sun and painful for both sides. This blog is an anecdotal account of my long, arduous path out of that emotional maelstrom. Can you relate to this? I think many can. Our individual circumstances may vary greatly, but the desire for healing of heart and soul is fundamental to being human. I’ve learned a great deal from others’ personal accounts and have come a long way in my quest to become “kinder and gentler,” plus becoming vastly happier. I will frequently quote scripture from the King James Bible and LDS scriptures (Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price). I’ll also include book reviews, physical health information and resources, plus my personal insights. Perhaps you can learn from my journey and I’m sure I can learn from yours. Please feel free to add your comments so we can share our experiences.

Silent Mountains

In 2001, I went on a student tour of Europe. While in Italy, I wandered out to the balcony of our hotel room late one night to just sit and let my thoughts wander over the amazing experiences we were having. Gradually, I noticed some very large, dark shapes on the skyline and quickly realized they were mountains with not a light showing on any of them. They seemed to ring the city like silent sentinels from the past. I imagined they were symbolic of the dead civilizations of Europe whose remains we were viewing on this trip: Greek, Roman, and Etruscan. All were gone but they cast long shadows, still influence our lives today, and provided the foundations of Western Civilization. I wondered if we, with all our modern ways and seeming cultural security, will ever suffer the same fate: Dust to Dust, Ashes to Ashes, as the saying goes. But no matter, I’ll celebrate what we’ve achieved over the last 1500 or more years. My thoughts then turned to other mountains of influence in my life: The University of Iowa where my father and grandfather both spent their entire working lives, along with the dads of almost all my friends. I attended a University “lab school” where professors’ kids were taught by the brightest and best graduate students and senior faculty. The entire weight and majesty of Western Civilization gradually unfolded before my initially reluctant eyes, but that reluctance turned pretty quickly to a love affair with history, music, and art. Try visiting Mozart’s birthplace in Salzburg with his glorious arias piped into every room – it’s enough to melt the hardest heart. Or view Bernini’s sculpture The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa in Rome and try to hold back the tears.

Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, by Gian Lorenzo Bernini
Courtesy I. Sailko, Wikipedia

I attended college classes in four ancient granite buildings that surrounded the “Old Capitol” building, set in the center of what we called The Pentacrest, five buildings that were the heart of the College of Liberal Arts at the University. The photo below was taken by my father on a cold winter day which I prize above all my memories of the sunny spring days I spent there because so much of my education was gained by not only braving the elements (I walked or took the bus to classes in all weather), but by braving the wilderness within – my life was forever changed. From that foundation, all the subsequent learning in my life found a harmonious home. What a heritage and how grateful I am to those who made it possible. Other personal mountains that surrounded me were the standards of hard work and honesty I found all around me – my own family and others who dedicated themselves to something good and greater than their own self-interest. And I’m grateful for the example of neighborliness of my parents, especially my mother who took special care of Frank and Cenie next door and Mrs. B on the other side. I didn’t have the same inclinations, focusing more on my life and friends, but that example now informs my current efforts to provide some service to my friends and neighbors.

What are your silent mountains? Maybe take some time now to contemplate them and pay a little homage.

Old Capitol, Iowa City
Family Photo, All Rights Reserved

Dealing With Loss

Yesterday I expect we all revisited the horror and sadness of of September 11, 2001. I was teaching in a suburban high school at the time. During first period, my students and I watched in disbelief as the second plane hit the World Trade Center. It was a day of shock, tears, and sober reflection. Where were you that day? I expect you remember it as vividly as I do.

It’s a short step to remembering other losses: my grandparents, aunts and uncles, and finally my own parents. There were other, less obvious losses: leaving my hometown, moving away from my beloved New England, seeing my children grow up and fly the coop. I miss teaching and the energy of adolescence, designing some of my best lessons while walking to the front of the classroom! I am certainly mourning some aspects of my lost youth with its fullness of health and vitality.

How have I dealt with each loss? Sometimes less well. For a long time, I just tried to stuff my grief after moving from New Hampshire to Utah. That simply didn’t work, caused a mild depression, and stopped me from discovering the very real opportunities for happiness and fun all around me, until I realized what I was doing, and stopped living in the past.

A friend once told me about two people in a family who’d lost someone close to them. One avoided grieving and had emotional and physical health problems for a long time, as a result. The other, while almost hysterical in her grief, worked through it much more quickly, emerging on the other side with a balanced focus on good memories.

So I’ve learned to feel my feelings and work through them, no matter how ugly, and I agree it’s a better way. When my elderly mother was dying of cancer in 2004, she was given no hope of recovery, but we had the gift of being able to say goodbye over six months. I took every opportunity to spend time with her. One long August weekend, I was the only visitor. We watched old movies, reminisced, and addressed a difficult dynamic between us. She gave me my grandmother’s china and boxes of books from her shelves. I cried pretty hard on the drive home, but when the funeral came in early January, I could fully celebrate her life and achievements with our large family, a true memorial.

Finally, I have the perspective of eternity grounded in my Christian faith. I recently participated in sealing some ancestors in eternal marriage and children to their parents in the Boise LDS Temple (their choice to accept or not). It’s like a window above my head opened, and I could see the grand vistas of blessing and opportunity that await all of us in the next life. We have the firm hope of reunion with those who’ve gone before us and the promises that we can keep progressing indefinitely. I take a great deal of comfort in that, as well great anticipation.

What will it be like hearing meeting with my Great Aunt Ella who married Judge Henry Shute? She lived in Davenport, Iowa, and he was from Exeter, New Hampshire, a widower with two children. I can’t wait to hear how they met and what their life there was like. He was a judge in the local police court for many years, finally turning to writing fiction about the many boys who came before him. The best known is The Real Diary of a Real Boy (available for free on Kindle). He had many short stories published in magazines like the Saturday Evening Post and was called the Mark Twain of Exeter.

We all have amazing stories behind us and those unfolding before us. That is my focus and ultimate comfort. I hope it is yours as well.

Polstead Church, Suffolk, England
Courtesy Pixabay.com Image 362353

The Tip of the Plow

I just finished a historical novel I absolutely loved, The Invention of Wings, by Sue Monk Kidd (author of The Secret Life of Bees). She writes about real-life sisters Sarah and Angelina Grimké from a slave-owning upper class family in Charlotte, North Carolina. They both detested slavery and were pioneers in both the Abolitionist and Women’s Movements in the early 1800’s. Ms Kidd writes an imagined inner life for Sarah and her personal slave Handful that is beautifully drawn and fairly faithful to the facts. Their passionate dedication required intense personal sacrifice but they never compromised their principles.

This story reminded me of a phrase voiced by a former real estate broker discussing levels of risk in property investment. Land is riskiest and developers are at the tip of the plow. They must invest a huge amount of money, time, and vision before they earn a single dollar. One wrong decision and they could lose it all. Certainly Sarah and Angelina were at the tip of their plow in both movements, and suffered greatly in the process.

It’s a vivid image: I picture the pioneer plow biting into tough prairie sod and the stress on it, the abrasion of stones and roots wearing the blade down quickly. The people behind the plow had to be equally tough. Others also come to mind: explorers, inventors, entrepreneurs, saints and martyrs. But are we, more ordinary people, ever at the tip of the plow? I know I have been and I have the emotional scars to prove it!

In the 1990’s I bought into a condo complex, recently converted from an apartment building. 48 different homeowners took over an aging building, electing seven of us to the first Board of Directors. We faced arcing electricity in the utility room, defective boilers and roof, plus thousands of bats under that bad roof! We buckled down, got legal advice, and solved those problems one at a time, first winning a settlement from the developers. I was treasurer and legal liaison, so many, many nights my stomach would be in knots about how to make these people accountable, how to sell extra assessments to our fellow owners so we could replace the roof, and how to unseat a volatile HOA President.

After five years, we triumphed over all these difficulties. Those of us in the vanguard were worn out and others were elected to carry on. They only had to deal with issues like enforcing the rule on uniform window coverings, kids running in the halls, and which lawn care company to use. I don’t regret my experience as it gave me the confidence I needed to tackle real estate at age 59 when I needed a change from teaching learning-disabled teenagers.

I reflected many times on the early scouts and pioneers who conquered the tough Midwestern prairie, harsh weather, and unfriendly native Americans. They were followed by the settlers who came in and built it up, in relative security. My Kent ancestors were settlers, not pioneers, building up Davenport, Iowa; opening a drugstore in nearby DeWitt; or starting the Photographic Dept. at the University of Iowa. I hope they appreciated those who came before and plowed the ground for them.

Where in your life are you at the tip of the plow? I see valiant friends stand for principle in their families, integrity in their work, or courage in the face of horrible adversity. Perhaps that’s our frontier today, where our own plow blade bites into the heart of experience.

Plowing, by Carl Larsson
Courtesy WikiArt.org, in public domain

Ye Shall Also Reap

Today I went with friends to pick plums for free in a neglected orchard. We all got enough to dry and make into plum jam or plum butter (yum!). I was reminded again of the abundance of nature. One plum seed grew into a large tree with hundreds of plums, which could seed a whole orchard, and from which thousands of plums could be harvested! I’ll give some away, dry some, can some plum butter for winter breakfasts and Christmas gifts, and just enjoy eating them fresh.

But those plums didn’t just grow without help. The original farmer had to plant the seed, nurture the seedling, then the young tree, prune it, prevent pests, and finally harvest them properly before fruit meets taste buds. The same is true of any project or job we undertake. We had a saying in education about managing student behavior: Get what you want before you give the student what they want. Well, life demands the same: we have to sow and cultivate before we reap the harvest.

I get a lot of joy from my adult children and teenage grandchildren, but there was a price to be paid: hundreds, probably thousands of diapers; late night feedings; whining in stores; and endless meals and snacks. Sure they were fun as children, but they also created what sometimes seemed like thankless work.

I’m currently working on converting my booklet on managing children’s behavior into an ebook. Since it was originally typed on a word processor, I have to retype it, study the Kindle formatting guidelines, and find a cover designer. Then I’ll still have to promote it online and hope it sells – weeks to produce and months til we have a harvest. It’s a bigger project to find a publisher for my phonics readers, written in the 1980s and distributed only minimally since phonics weren’t in vogue then.

We can have a harvest in our characters as well. Quote is from Ralph Waldo Emerson:

Sow a thought and you reap an action;
Sow an act and you reap a habit;
Sow a habit and you reap a character;
Sow a character and you reap a destiny.

As I look at my pantry with jars of soup, jam, and chicken broth and remind myself that the harvest is coming on my current projects. I believe there’s a harvest for my writing that will benefit both reader and author, and make the effort worthwhile. I can look for opportunities to say the kind word, not the nasty one, and hope for a better character. And I believe those plums will soon be nestled in jars and bags waiting to delight my taste buds this winter. Then I take heart for another day of cultivating my personal garden.

Fear not to do good, my sons, for whatsoever ye sow, that shall ye also reap;
therefore, if ye sow good ye shall also reap good for your reward.
(LDS Doctrine & Covenants 6:33)

Book Review: When my kids were little, I came across a delightful book that I think I enjoyed even more than they did: The Carrot Seed by Ruth Krauss. It’s about a little boy who plants a carrot seed, and his whole family tells him that “it won’t come up.” But the little boy continues to care for his seed anyway, believing that it will. All you gardeners out there know that carrot seeds are tiny and notoriously slow to germinate. Even though it’s very short, The Carrot Seed packs a real punch, especially if you’re down and don’t feel like the projects you’re nurturing will ever bear fruit!

The Carrot Seed Book Cover
Author’s Image of Own Book

Safety in a Dangerous World

The horrifying news of journalist James Foley’s execution in the Middle East this week made me think how quickly life can turn on a dime and how unfair it often seems. How do we live life with this sword hanging over us?

I’ve suffered fear for my safety many times, but repeatedly God has assured me that I have a mantle of protection around me. Here are two times I remember clearly:

This spring, I was driving east on State St. going to the Post Office when a car approaching me turned left, coming right at side of the car. I quickly swerved, hit the horn, and as I did so, something odd happened. I “saw” what looked like a powerful energy field flowing between the two cars, only 1-2″ wide. As the other car pushed on into this field, it couldn’t penetrate it, and even appeared to move my car to the right! I honestly don’t know how we avoided colliding, it was that close a call. Lesson to me: God has His own form of protection when something isn’t His will for us to experience.

Many years ago, I was newly divorced, facing life as a single working mother. I felt vulnerable and fearful of physical danger. I remember taking my kids for walks on a bridge across a large river with a low damn just slightly upstream. We’d stop and admire the great mass of water flowing over that dam and under our feet – its power was truly thrilling. My spirituality was just starting to emerge, mostly just as meditation (see Aligned With Grace), so I didn’t have much faith in God.

Even so, He had a message for me. One night I was driving home quite late, sober but very tired, and eager to pick up my children. After about 45 minutes of driving at 60 mph, I could no longer keep my eyes open. The next thing I knew I heard my tires hit the gravel on the shoulder. I woke up to see a high rock cliff face coming straight at my right headlight. I remembered hearing myself scream as we hit the wall and the car spun back around on the empty country highway. I was spinning in a perfect circle and hit that wall at least one or two more times. As I spun – securely belted in and held in place by centrifugal force – I watched in fascination as my left wrist snapped upward causing a mild sprain and my left knee flying up and hitting the bottom of the steering wheel, leaving a small bruise. I came to rest on the shoulder facing back the way I came, and walked away with only those two injuries. An older couple stopped soon after and gave me a ride home. The car was totaled but I knew that God’s power had protected me, and it was far greater than anything I’d observed in that waterfall! My faith and curiosity about God grew substantially.

Courtesy PublicDomainFiles.com

So why did God protect me and not James Foley? Well, I’m certainly not a better nor more deserving person. I think the answer may lie in a statement by one of my church leaders (paraphrased from memory): The reason we have a hard time understanding this life is that we’re living in “Act 2.” Act 1 was the life before this when our spirits were preparing for mortality. Our mortal life is Act 2. And Act 3 will be the life to come when all things will be made right, and we’ll know why our lives unfolded as they did.

Scriptures teach us that part of our purpose in mortality is to be tested and tried, to see what choices we’ll make in adversity as well as in prosperity. Job in the Old Testament is the classic example. When God pointed to Job as a highly righteous man, Satan responded: Sure, look how you’ve blessed him with a large family and great wealth. Why would he sin? God said, Okay, you may try him in any way, but you may not take his life. Job lost his family, his wealth, his health, and ultimately his friends. His response: The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord. (Job 1:21) Job never lost faith in the goodness of God. When the test was over, . . .the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than his beginning . . . (Job 42:12), giving him a second large family and even greater wealth, plus the hope of having his first family back in the eternities.

I expect James Foley will have glory and blessings heaped upon his head for his sacrifice. And I hope we all will notice the times God protects us and give thanks, even in adversity.

And he who receiveth all things with thankfulness shall be made glorious;
and the things of this earth shall be added unto him, even an hundred fold, yea, more.
(LDS Doctrine and Covenants 78:19)

Lessons from Plants

This year I decided to splurge on flowers, so I bought lots of “wave” pansies that did very well this spring on my back patio. Then I bought three gorgeous hanging baskets dominated by varying shades of purple, accented with white. I put two of them side-by-side in a metal “half barrel” planter which was an unbridled success. But the prize goes to the third basket hanging from the corner of my carport for all to enjoy.

This basket came in the usual plastic pot with its own hanger. I knew from experience that it would dry out quickly in its small pot, and need once or even twice daily watering. So I took it down before the heat hit full force and gingerly removed it from its pot. I lost a few small branches but not too serious. Then I struggled to get it out of the old pot and replant in a larger one which I filled with extra rich potting soil and lots of organic compost. I lost even more greenery. Then came the real challenge: placing the pot in my sturdy metal basket with real chains without more damage. After an annoying struggle with the chains trying to position the plant, I was ready to hang my prize.

The pot by this time was heavier than I wanted to lift, plus you have to get on a step stool to reach the hook. No one was around to help me and I was impatient. I thought I could hold my creation on the handle of my step stool with one hand while reaching up for the wire hanger, but disaster struck: The pot escaped the hanger, fell, and landed on the cement – heartbreak! I started all over to rescue my darling: unhooking the chains again, tenderly righting the plant, scooping soil back in the pot, and replanting the now bedraggled plants. I called a neighbor to help hold the pot high enough to reach the hook. Success finally came, but my plant was a sorry sight. I trimmed, watered, and apologized to the poor thing, then hoped nature would heal my crimes against it.

It took a while but it’s back giving pleasure to all, except for one gap that reminds me of life’s fragility, the need to respect all the steps, and not take shortcuts. Fortunately, nature is forgiving and the plant is more lush than ever. (See my photo below.) I’m like this plant, a little battered but still surviving life’s bumps and knocks.

I’ve learned lots of lessons from plants over the years. Here are a few more:

This same basket still needs to be watered daily, and twice if the temperature gets above about 98°. Remorse has made me take extra care of this plant, so I’ve gotten into the habit of “dead heading” it during my morning watering. I’m amazed at how many dead and wilted blooms I remove each day. Last week I observed that this process is a lot like self-improvement. As an adult discovering Christianity, I found I had lots of bad habits that needed dead-heading too. So as I pluck wilted flowers, I think about the unworthy thoughts and actions I need to pluck out of me.
Plants, like people, can become “root bound” – stuck in our comfort zones and missing opportunities for positive change. In plants, the roots gradually absorb much of the soil or crowd it out, then grow in tight circles around the sides and bottom of their pot. The plant suffers, producing fewer flowers and not growing. Then it just needs to be tapped out of the old pot, the root ball loosened and put in a larger pot with fresh soil. Loosening the intertwined roots often tears them, and I imagine I hear them complaining, “How could you do this to us?” – just like we complain to God when faced with a major life transition. But sometimes it’s the only way to get increased growth and productivity, in us and in plants.
Finally, “. . .whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap” (Galatians 6:7). I’ve tried just putting a commercial hanging basket out and was always disappointed when the flowers drooped in the heat no matter how much you watered, their colors faded, or they just failed to thrive. This year, my basket got the royal treatment: larger pot; better, richly fertilized soil; plenty of sun and water; and finally dead heading the spent blooms to encourage maximum growth. The result is pretty spectacular – truly “joy in the harvest.”

What are you planting or nurturing? Is life repotting you? Remember you’ll bloom again!

Aligned with Grace

Back in my hippie days, I experimented with “mind control,” another name for auto suggestion or self-hypnosis. I’d sit in my rocking chair by a sunny window, close my eyes, and tell my left arm to rise in the air, all by itself. I didn’t consciously move a muscle and, in a few seconds, up it would float all on its own – groovy!

Next I experimented with positive affirmations and visualization. While in labor with my second child, I closed my eyes during painful hard contractions and visualized a cylinder down the center of my body opening easily to let the baby out. It worked! My pain just melted away and soon, holding a happy baby in my arms, I was totally high and triumphant.

After my conversion to Christianity, I learned the power of prayer and the miracle of God’s grace. It swept away sorrow, guilt, and worry – at least when I remembered to get on my knees! I’ve been blessed with guidance on hard decisions, forgiveness of my sins and missteps, and a deep healing of the wounds received from others.

The last six months or so, I’ve been revisiting my childhood patterns on a far deeper level, making different choices, and asking for yet more healing. I’ve received it in abundance and I give the glory to God. But a slightly different challenge remained: the small two-year-old within, squashed early in childhood, was finally ready to finish growing up. After trying to manage the process with my own conscious powers and regular prayer, I saw a news feature on meditation. I suddenly remembered those long-ago experiences, plus some advice from John Gray while on Oprah in the late 1990’s: What you focus on increases. So I decided to add auto suggestion to this process.

A couple of days ago, after inviting the Lord to guide this process, I created a quiet environment, got comfortable, and started saying to myself: The old is flowing out, the new is coming in. God and I are creating my highest self. I am a person of energy, creativity, and love. Then I pictured myself enjoying a newness of life.

The very next day, I went out visiting people in NW Boise prospecting for listings. I dropped in on a neighbor of sellers I represented last year and whom I’d met at my open house. We had a great chat, and she gave me several leads. Then I knocked on doors in a nice town home subdivision nearby. I had a good visit with an older couple who are planning to move during the next year. Their daughter lived next door, and her boyfriend said they would move too. I’ll keep in touch with them and felt so encouraged that I was finally on the right track with work, just as I pictured.

God was with me that day, and I felt a new maturity as that small child faced a challenge and triumphed! It was very freeing – the capstone of my efforts to build the supporting pieces: my knowledge of town home and condo management, how to research builders and tax records, what to say at the door, and finally how to decisively pass by a unkempt front door. The master architect was behind it all!

What I learned: Use the human techniques of creative change like visualization and self-hypnosis but don’t leave out God’s far more powerful grace – the real miracle worker!

Aligned with Grace
Courtesy Pixabay.com Image 167062

Life’s Magic

In the movie Sleepless in Seattle, the lead character’s mother described her first meeting with her father …. It was magic. Then Tom Hanks’ character describes taking his dead wife’s hand for the first time : It was magic! Meg Ryan’s character realized she didn’t have that with her fiance and decided she didn’t want to live without it. Neither do I, and I expect no one does.

I think we can all recall times of magic in our lives. Time stands still, a new emotional and spiritual reality envelopes us, and a peak experience emerges. As I get older (happening mighty fast!), I like to look back on some of my magical experiences.

The summer after high school graduation, I worked as a waitress at a summer resort in Wisconsin. A guest named Mike, a law student from Northwestern University, dated me the week he was there. We went to Leibkins and ate ice cream in the afternoons, drove to a corn roast after dinner wrapped in a blanket in a convertible with our friends. Then we ended up at 1:00 in the morning sitting on deck chairs, holding hands, watching moonlight on the water, and discussing our philosophies of life. He was smart, funny, and a complete gentleman. For those few days, we lived in a small world of our own – carefree, interesting and magical.

Pete and I moved to New Hampshire after graduate school following an exploratory visit. During our very first drive up Highway 123 between Peterborough and Stoddard, we were suddenly captivated by the leafy forest overhead and the filtered sunlight, creating a yellow green world very like being underwater. It was enchanting, and the magic descended. Our friends Peter and Peggy put us up while we looked at houses and the guys built fences. We lived there three years, had two children, then divorced. Pete never left.

As a single mom during the next three years, still in New England, I discovered English country dancing, held in local town halls and churches. My friends and I carpooled each weekend along winding wooded roads, scurrying into the hall right at 8:30, like leaves blowing off the trees. We danced until midnight to centuries-old fiddle, concertina, and penny whistle music: reels, contra dancing, and occasional round dances. No alcohol, no drugs, but we were high on movement, music, and the shadow of colonial history you could still feel. Absolute magic. Have a listen on CD Baby.

One of those winters, a boyfriend took me on his snowmobile into inaccessible woods and lakes. We passed waterfalls that froze in colors: blue, green, pink, and yellow because of the abundant minerals the water washed out of the rocky hillsides. A white, frozen world where one could fantasize about figure skating alone on Center Pond at midnight under an archetypal night sky, all mauve, gray and pearly white. More magic.

Later, entering the world of my children through late night walks in summer, watching our shadows grow longer and longer, talking about anything and everything. Starting the PBS miniseries, Middlemarch, at 11 pm with daughter Amanda on another summer evening years later, not ending until 4:00 am, and then going out for a walk to reflect on a great story. Picking Peter up from the dude ranch where he worked right after high school and listening to his stories of riding horses (I only landed on my head twice!) and playing with bull snakes in the hay fields.

Finally, I’ve been blessed with many magical experiences communing with the divine. Just this morning early, a pool of golden light – reflected through a small window opposite – appeared on my family photos and the picture of the Salt Lake Temple skyline at sunset right above them. It only lasted a few minutes but it seemed to be a direct message about the eternal nature of my family and the promises found in our temples. This is a magic that will never end.

Please post any of your special memories for us all to enjoy.

Frozen Waterfall
Courtesy PublicDomainPictures.net Image 11480

The Blessings of Healing and Forgiveness

Today was the first really cool morning in several weeks. As I came home from my morning walk, I decided it was the perfect time to trim my three day lily plants – all the flower stalks were dead and the ends of the leaves were brown. I snipped the dead stalks with my rose cutters and trimmed the leaves quite drastically with my kitchen scissors. It was tedious work but it looked and felt great when I was done.

I find that tending my soul is a lot like tending a garden. This week, I’m coming to the end of processing a difficult social situation in which I was unfairly judged, then talked about, and finally the butt of some nonverbal rejection – all without my knowing what prompted it – hurtful in the extreme! I went through a series of reactions:

Lord, was it me? No. But it took a couple of weeks for me to believe it even though God took away my initial pain very quickly.
Lord, how did this happen? I heard a voice in my head of the person and their original words that lit the flame of gossip.
The Lord prompted me to share my experience discreetly with a few of my friends, without naming names. They had neither heard nor participated in the loose talk, and their support was quite healing.
I felt a surge of confidence, and began looking people squarely in the eye.
I met with our group’s leader. We came to a mutual understanding and a changed role for me.
Then, for about a week, I felt righteous indignation and mentally said the words, You trashed my good name – I want it back! It felt very cleansing to acknowledge what happened and it’s effect on me, even if only privately.
Monday, all of a sudden, it didn’t feel good to be indignant. I felt myself cross a line into bitterness and petty accusation, so I decided to create a more forgiving frame of mind. I doubt those involved realized the extent of what they did.
Now I’m planning to initiate a visit with the two people who I know began this and deliver a calm “I Message” of how much this hurt me and our whole group. I’ll urge them to repent and get right with the Lord, then assure them of my well wishes. I’ll practice the wording and feelings of charity so I can speak with the right spirit.

It was painful weeding out my budding feelings of resentment and growing animosity but the peace that followed was worth it. Then I remembered The Nine Steps of Forgiveness and Healing From Abuse from my files:

Accept reality, come out of denial, acknowledge and condemn sin [but not the sinner]. BLESSING: A fullness of joy
Protect yourself from further harm. [You have a stewardship to care for yourself.] BLESSING: Justice and safety
Pray for your offender, with specifics.
BLESSING: Your heart is softened.
Honest grief over loss and pain.
BLESSING: Freedom to receive real healing [not just stuffed feelings]
Resist bitterness and animosity.
BLESSING: Humility
Be accountable for your own reaction to abuse.
BLESSING: Control and personal power
Receive the Atonement of Christ, face our own weakness and give it to Him.
BLESSING: Your burden is lifted.
Let go of anger, pain, blame and shame/guilt.
BLESSING: Restoration of personal dignity
Offer compassion and understanding [this is not approval of abuse].
BLESSING: Empowerment, fullness of joy (full circle back to Step 1)

My process didn’t follow this sequence in order, but I’ve covered the bases and am working on the final steps. This week, I looked Step 7 squarely in the eye and didn’t like how I was feeling. It wasn’t worthy of a Christian, so I told my ego to “take a hike”! I’m preparing to tackle Step 9 and am asking the Lord to give me the words, the compassion, and the confidence to undertake this in the proper spirit.

I think forgiveness is one of the hardest challenges we face, but it’s also one of the most liberating. It sets us free from the past, and it also sets those who hurt us free – to change or not. Then it’s between them and their maker, not between them and us!

If you’re feeling burdened by the past, please let the Master Healer help release you.

Peace at the Heart of the Rose
Courtesy Pixabay.com Image 270729

Tackling Big Challenges

When I was working full-time, it was easier to structure my time. At work, I had deadlines and many set tasks that carried me through my day. As soon as I walked in my door, I opened mail, put away my shopping, and started dinner without batting an eyelash. The momentum of the day carried me past dinnertime. By the time I could quit, the critical things were done and I could relax.

Now that I’m mostly retired, I find time management to be a bigger challenge. You’d think with more time and fewer tasks, it would be easier! But now I am getting to the projects I’d had to put off previously: deeper gospel study, gardening, keeping up with friends, bigger projects with grandkids, and finally getting my house really in order.

It helps me to remember a freelance photographer describing how he worked. He categorized work into A, B, and C TASKS:

A‘s were the big ones – they take time as well as creative and emotional energy – easy to put off. Examples: Writing my blog post for the week or cooking a company dinner.
B‘s are medium sized – still somewhat time-consuming but less daunting: Editing and typing the final draft of a report or doing an hour’s ironing.
C‘s are short and easy – we can string several together and hardly feel it: Emptying the dishwasher, checking email, changing the laundry, etc.

Then he went on to talk about A, B, and C TIME:

A‘s are peak energy and a bigger chunk of time – mornings for most of us, long evenings for night owls.
B‘s are winding up or winding down time – transitioning out of high energy – and a little shorter.
C‘s are low energy times when we need to relax, putter around, and reflect, and may only be a few minutes.

Here’s the kicker: We need to match A Tasks with A Time and so on, for maximum productivity. I then remembered a talk on time management with an object lesson (shown below), using tennis balls, ping pong balls and marbles (A, B, and C Tasks) in a bowl (the productive part of your day). The speaker made the point that if you start filling your day with the multitude of easy tasks facing you, then move to the harder ones, and leaving the big tough ones until last, it will look like the bowl on the left. You’ll get to the end of your day facing the biggest tasks when you’re most tired and least motivated. You’ll feel guilty for not getting to all of them. And you’ll have gaps in your day when you’re bored but don’t have enough time to tackle the big projects, so you can’t really relax and enjoy it.

Now look at the bowl on the right. The same number of tasks are facing you, but you start by tackling A Tasks in A Time, then fill in the remaining time with B Tasks first, and C Tasks second. This way, you can both pace yourself and get it all done before the end of your day.

I’ve been holding my feet to the fire this week and tackling the daunting projects early in the day, early in the week, and at the peak of my energy. I still want to procrastinate, but my mantra is NO EXCUSES! And here’s the payday: There’s more satisfaction – way more – tied to A Tasks relative to the time and energy invested, and far more momentum to carry us into the next big project than if we miss that peak moment.

Tuesday I forced myself to go out in the heat of early afternoon and face my research goal at our local Family History Center. I was rusty and had hit wall after wall this spring while working on my own. This time, with help from two wonderful women, I identified my great grandmother Anderson’s brother Frederick to flesh out his family and do their temple work. He married Arianna Lorton in his late thirties, died five years later, childless, all in Davenport, Iowa. Arianna buried him in Chicago and moved there. Three years later, census records show her working as a hairdresser and as a Boarder with a single woman with a Machine Shop. I imagined them with living quarters above the shop, possibly with other boarders. Arianna’s death record many years later show her name still as Anderson; I assume she never remarried. I found her parents and siblings in the area, so she wasn’t alone. It felt like a little window back into history, and it tugged at my heart. Frederick was my great grandmother’s only sibling. I imagine she greatly missed him and will be thrilled to have them sealed to their family for the next life.

A final memory comes back to me: diving off the board at the City Pool as a teenager. I would walk quickly to the end and jump straight up while pushing the end of the board downward. As I dropped, the board came up, hitting my feet to spring me into the air and give my dive energy and height. If you hit it just right, it’s a little scary but much more exciting than just diving off the end of a stationary board. Using our creative energy synchronized with life’s timing is a lot like that. My second post, The Gems Within, talks about a life force out there that wants to work through us. Now I realize we have to use it at flood tide and not when it’s ebbing away – the ride into shore is thrilling and worth the effort!

Diver on Springboard
Courtesy Wikipedia Commons

He Heals My Heart

Finding God's Grace in Today's World