Category Archives: Personal Growth

A Tale of Two Watches — The “Gift of Time” — Part 2

Once upon a time, I had a dream. In this dream, I was sitting on a straight-back wood chair with my back to a pool of water. It was really a pond but had a shaped stone edge around it, like a swimming pool. My task was to swing my feet up into the air and do a back flip into the water so that I land farther out than the chair. Well, I’m quite a physical coward, so it took a minute for me to think through this and decide that the risk was better than being stuck in this chair. So I put all my strength into swinging my legs up and over my head. All went as planned, and I landed farther out in the water than the chair.

The next task was to swim to the bottom of the pool and find a gift that was waiting there for me. I’m a good swimmer so I didn’t hesitate to do a surface dive and head downwards. Immediately, some slimy looking seaweed appeared in front of me, waving its tendrils in my face. I was duly intimated, but decided I needed to push through it, no matter how unpleasant. As I did so, a strange thing happened: the seaweed parted and couldn’t actually touch me, much to my relief. I continued to the bottom of the pool to a white sandy natural bottom, with seaweed gone and a lovely yellow-green light filtering down from above. All was peaceful and still, but I didn’t see anything on the bottom.

So I kept swimming in a leisurely fashion, evidently not needing air. Soon I found it: a Mickey Mouse watch on the sand that had a yellow patent-leather watch band. I laughed at the whimsy of it, picked it up and swam to the surface. This all happened back in New Hampshire during my Hippie days of the 1970s, so when I described this dream to a friend there, she gave this interpretation: Yellow is the color of overcoming; Mickey Mouse represents a relaxed, childlike attitude to life; and the watch itself represents “the gift of time.” I squirreled this away and never forgot it through the ensuing years of struggle as a divorced mother of two, even though I didn’t grasp what the “gift of time” meant.

Fast forward to the last couple of years: I’m busily researching the most compelling Last Days timeline I’ve ever encountered and learning about the Hebrew Holy Days, especially as they connect with “Daniel’s Numbers” from the Old Testament. Studying these holy days in Leviticus 23 was eye-opening, especially when I read they were “statutes to be observed forever.” Then in Chapter 25, I came across the concept of a Sabbath year as well as a Jubilee 50th year. The first gives a year of rest and renewal to the land (and is the origin of taking a “Sabbatical Year” for research and renewal in the academic world), while the a Jubilee year describes a stunning, but belated, “restoration” of possessions/wealth, lands, and family, defined here in Leviticus 25:

The Sabbath Year:
3 Six years thou shalt sow thy field, and six years thou shalt prune thy vineyard, and gather in the fruit thereof;
4 But in the seventh year shall be a sabbath of rest unto the land, a sabbath for the Lord: thou shalt neither sow thy field, nor prune thy vineyard.

The Jubilee Year:
8 And thou shalt number seven sabbaths of years unto thee, seven times seven years; and the space of the seven sabbaths of years shall be unto thee forty and nine years.
9 Then shalt thou cause the trumpet of the jubilee to sound on the tenth day of the seventh month, in the day of atonement shall ye make the trumpet sound throughout all your land.
10 And ye shall hallow the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof: it shall be a jubilee unto you; and ye shall return every man unto his possession, and ye shall return every man unto his family.

I’m writing this post on Friday, June 13, 2025 which is also the 50th anniversary of my baptism into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints! This anniversary marks the end of a possible, personal Jubilee year. And what’s a little spooky is that on this Sunday, June 15, it will be the 49th anniversary of receiving my own “endowment” ordinance in the Salt Lake Temple. So Sunday could be considered to be the first day of another Jubilee year. What will this year bring and what did last year represent, if anything? Here are my thoughts:

As the result of the dream described above, I bought a Mickey Mouse watch at Disneyland during a visit there with my son’s family in 2004. I didn’t try to find a yellow patent-leather band but the more lady-like version I found satisfied my need to commemorate that long-ago dream and its embedded promise (see image below). Fast forward to 2020, I moved back to Utah from Idaho and brought three inexpensive watches with me, most needing a new battery. So I took them to the Jewelry Doctor in the Mall and had batteries put in all three. Several months ago, they all stopped, including the Timex I wore for errands and church, which didn’t survive an attempt to replace its battery myself. . . . This was an inconvenience more than a hardship, but finally I saw an open moment yesterday on Thursday, June 12. I went to Dillard’s and bought an affordable Coach watch and took my treasured Mickey Mouse watch back to the Jewelry Doctor for a new battery: Here they are:

Two Watches and the Gift of Time

You can see Mickey on the left as well as the M and mouse ears in the band. New watch is on the right, good for everyday with a slight touch of bling in the subtle pattern on its gold face.

So how does all this fit together? I believe that the Jubilee year just past capped that fifty years with an uphill climb that was very steep. I was doing the hardest job of my life, researching and writing a complex book about a living, pulsating mass of Last Days prophecy. Today, the last 12 months seems like a total end to those years of struggle and points to a promised liberation into further work in far more blessed circumstances. Now as I start Day 1 of the next Jubilee year this Sunday, in two days, I see what looks like a lovely downhill ski run (but only the Bunny Hill for me). Today and tomorrow feels like a quiet breather.

But before the future appears and to cap this last fifty years, I go to the Mount Timpanogos Temple this afternoon to do a proxy endowment for an ancestor, Hannah Marie Anderson, born in 1816 in Manhattan, New York. I’ll look forward to meeting her someday and hearing her story! Then tomorrow my son and grandson are coming down from Salt Lake to eat sourdough blueberry pancakes, local sausage, play our favorite games, and enjoy a Father’s Day celebration for this great father and his wonderful son.

PS, I’m finalizing this post after that temple trip: I was in a session that was bursting with dozens of local missionaries. Standing in the prayer circle with about 40 of them was an unforgettable experience, topped by a powerful and reverent prayer from the officiator. What a Jubilee gift!

These two converging Jubilee years seem to form a chiasm in my life with the point between them pointing skyward. They conceivably mark a mid-point between the uphill years of struggle, capped by a crowning, almost crushing trial. Was this the Jubilee year that finally opens the door to these promises? I see the next Jubilee year sloping downhill as time frees up, trials lessen, and I reclaim a more normal balance in my life. But will it also bring the start of a true restoration of my little, incomplete family to our true homeland, a family made whole, and our “possessions” restored to what we would have had in an intact family all these years?

I have real hope that these testing and growth years will bring God’s promised blessings of liberation, because that’s what the scriptures promise: “For after much tribulation, come the blessings” (Doctrine and Covenants 58:4). As one survivor of the Willey-Martin Handcart companies said in response to criticism that they left too late in the year to avoid the deadly blizzards of the plains: “You know nothing about it. The price I paid to know my Savior was worth it, and I would do it again”! I can say the same about this last 50 years, except for the part about “doing it again.” And I plan to be in one of the choirs in heaven singing praises to God for the trials that brought them to Christ. A greater closeness to the Spirit of Christ was a solid, initial reward for my work and suffering — the gift that will just keep on giving!

Fortunately, we don’t have to relive previous trials but just go on to conquer ever-greater heights of building family, community, Zion, and ultimately worlds populated with uncounted spirit children. See a previous high point in the sister blog post to this one, which illustrates how we can mistake a way station for a end destination: The Gift of Time — Part 1, link HERE. But read Brigham Young‘s words about a real destination:

Let me here say a word to console the feelings and hearts of all who belong to this Church. Many of the sisters grieve because they are not blessed with offspring. You will see the time when you will have millions of children around you. If you are faithful to your covenants, you will be mothers of nations. You will become Eves to earths like this, and when you have assisted in peopling one earth, there are millions of others still in the course of creation. And when they have endured a thousand million times longer than this earth, it is only as it were at the beginning of your creation. Be faithful and if you are not blessed with children in this time, you will be hereafter.            
(Deseret News, Vol 10, p 306, Oct 14, 1860)

What is yet to be seen: Does this next year signal the start of that promised “Gift of Time”? Only time itself will tell . . . But here are my final words, no matter what the future brings: Onward, Christian Soldiers!

The Answer is Always “God”

Most people are still stressed because of year-long pandemic restrictions, economic worries, family worries, or just wondering, “What’s happened to our world”?

And I’m squarely in that camp. In February, I signed up for a Church History tour in July that I haven’t been able to fully anticipate because it may be cancelled due to COVID restrictions. In normal times, I could have registered and enjoyed months of happy anticipation, but I haven’t allowed myself that pleasure because it would just set me up for a bigger disappointment should it be cancelled. This made me both sad and angry, mostly angry. Somebody STOLE our future! I’m not alone in that feeling and have heard others’ frustrations expressed in many forms: indignation, anxiety, negativity – abnormal for those people in better times. Continuing the thoughts from my previous post, I did all those things but finally turned to inspirational reading.

I got one of my favorites off the shelf: The Hiding Place, a memoir by Corrie ten Boom, a Dutch survivor of the WWII women’s concentration camp Ravensbruck where she and her sister were sent because her family helped Jews escape the Nazi net in Holland. She also lost her father after only 10 days in prison, a beloved nephew, and a brother who died soon after being released from their local prison.

Why did a Christian family put themselves in harm’s way? They could have just sat out the war safely repairing clocks, all while enjoying their large, happy family and many friends. Corrie’s father Casper ten Boom was a devout Christian who put his faith into action and gave a message of hope and faith to everyone he met.

He loved the Jewish people because of their great destiny and heritage. While out walking with Corrie during the German occupation of their town, Corrie commented on the many people forced to wear a yellow star marking them as Jewish: Father, those poor people!
Her father replied: Those poor people.
But to Corrie’s surprise she saw that he was looking at the soldiers now forming into ranks.
I pity the poor Germans, Corrie. They have touched the apple of God’s eye [the Jews, to be persecuted and murdered by the Nazi regime].
He really lived the commandment to Love Your Enemies, a lesson Corrie would have to work hard to master later on.

Casper was also a wise father and knew how to teach difficult lessons. After Corrie had accompanied her mother and older sister to a family grieving the death of an infant, she was invited to touch a small, cold hand. Corrie was shocked by her sudden introduction to the physical reality of death. Later that night, she burst into tears upon seeing her beloved father, declaring, You can’t die! You can’t. I need you! Her father wisely counseled her:

Corrie, when you and I go to Amsterdam – when do I give you your ticket?
Corrie: Why, just before we get on the train.
Exactly. And our wise Father in heaven knows when we’re going to need things, too. Don’t run out 
ahead of Him, Corrie. When the time comes that some of us will have to die, you will look into your 
heart and find the strength you need – just in time.

And isn’t that how our Heavenly Father works with us? We are expected to move forward in faith, believing that we’ll “get our ticket” just when we need it. Many of us gaze into the future and try to see what’s coming. While it is good to be prepared, there comes a time to turn the future over to God – a burden only He can really carry – trusting Him to give us our ticket when we really need strengthening, direction, or protection.

An example from my own life: I sometimes worry excessively about my children and grandchildren, before they take a long trip or when my son goes mountain biking on rough terrain. During one of his outings, I couldn’t control my anxiety for him, so I remembered God’s promise to quiet our inner storms (2 Corinthians 1:3-7). Then I knelt and said a formal prayer asking that my fears be removed and peace descend. As I arose, that peace did appear and anxiety didn’t return. Sharing my concerns with my son when he returned for his hero’s breakfast, he replied, Don’t worry, Mom, I’m careful and I don’t want to die!
But it would have helped if he hadn’t sent me videos of a dare-devil rider on that same trail!
In any case, I got my ticket from an understanding God just when I needed it!

Corrie always looked up to her two sisters, Nollie and Betsie, as well as her father as model Christians, living their beliefs every day. But she struggled. In Ravensbruck, they spent many hours in a room infested with fleas that caused much discomfort. Betsie counseled her to be thankful in all things, even in this.

1 Thessalonians 5:18:
In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.

Corrie couldn’t believe that meant being thankful for fleas, but they proved a blessing when they could teach their fellow prisoners from a hidden Bible, unmolested by the guards who wouldn’t go in that room!

In her follow-up book, Tramp for the Lord, the Years after The Hiding Place, Corrie feels called by the Lord to travel the word and teach the Christian lessons from her childhood and years of Nazi oppression. Each short chapter teaches another lesson she learned from almost 40 years of trusting the Lord to lead her in her travels and ministry.

Corrie Happy In the Service of God

Called reluctantly to return to post-war Germany with a message of hope and God’s love, she wrote:

The Germans had lost face in defeat. Their homes had been destroyed and when they heard the 
enormity of Hitler’s crimes (which many Germans knew nothing about) they were filled with despair. 
As they returned to their Fatherland they felt they had nothing to live for. . . . Then in a refugee camp, Corrie spotted an elderly woman who had been a concert pianist. Finding a broken-down piano, she played the Chromatic Fantasy of Bach beautifully. Tears came to Corrie’s eyes as she thought of wounded Germany, left with only the remnants of the past, but still able to play beautiful music. Such a nation will survive to create again, she thought.

Then Corrie told this woman what she had learned in Ravensbruck: Love still stands when all else has fallen. In the concentration camp they took all we had, even 
made us stand naked for hours at a time without rest, but they could not take Jesus from my heart. 
Ask Jesus to come into your life. He will give you riches no man can take away from you.

While it was hard for Corrie to face a return to Germany, it was harder still to face a former guard, who came forward after one of her speeches on God’s love and forgiveness. Here’s her account of that meeting:

“It came back with a rush: the huge room with its harsh overhead lights; the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the centre of the floor; the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were! The place was Ravensbruck and the man who was making his way forward had been a guard – one of the most cruel guards. Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out. A fine message, Fraulein! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!

“And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. He would not remember me, of course . . . but I remembered him and the leather crop swinging from his belt . . . You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk. I was a guard there. But since that time, I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well, Fraulein – again the hand came out – will you forgive me?

“And I stood there – I whose sins had again and again to be forgiven – and could not forgive. Betsie had died in that place – could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking?”

But she knew that God’s offer of forgiveness has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. If you do not forgive men their trespasses, Jesus says, neither will your father in heaven forgive your trespasses. Corrie saw many war victims and commented: Those who were able to forgive their former enemies were able also to return to the outside world and rebuild their lives, no matter what the physical scars. But those who nursed their bitterness remained invalids. It was as simple and horrible as that.

“And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart. But forgiveness is not an emotion – I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart. Jesus, help me! I prayed silently. I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling. And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.

“I forgive you, brother! I cried. With all my heart. . . . I realized it was not my love. I had tried, and did not have the power. It was the power of the Holy Spirit as recorded in Romans 5:5:
because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.”

Corrie ten Boom, Love Your Enemy

And the promise of God’s strengthening grace is given to us in all circumstances when our own powers are inadequate. I remember when I was asked only a day before Father’s Day to fill in for a speaker in my church’s Sacrament Meeting the next morning. I thought, this isn’t hard. We have the greatest Father of all in God, plus the great ancient patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But no matter how I approached this talk, nothing came together. Everything I wrote came out sounding like an essay or lesson, not a tribute to everyday fathers. Finally, I just gave it back to the Lord and walked into church knowing He would help me and “give me my ticket” just as I needed it. I sat on the stand completely relaxed, smiling at the congregation anticipating along with them what message the Lord would have me share!

When my turn came, I walked calmly to the podium, never looked at my notes and almost heard the words from God: Stand aside, your talk’s rubbish. I’ll take it from here. And He did. It suddenly came to me to pay tribute to my earthly father, then my great-great-grandfather who was the last Christian in the Kent line to that point (a human spiritual father I look up to), and finally to my son, a devoted dad to my two grandchildren. The talk flowed easily. I enjoyed it and several people later told me that they did too.

Over my many years of living, I’ve learned over and over that God will fill our gaps. Gaps of courage, of faith, of inspiration, of direction when we truly need it and ask for it. I just have to keep reminding myself of that: to ask. And the more we exercise faith our faith muscles, the stronger they grow. The Christian road is often hard but there is a paradise waiting at the end. And not just in the next life but also at the end of every struggle, every challenge!

Second Coming – Courtesy: https://heavenready.blogspot.com/2015/10

Just a Little Chipmunk in God’s Big Forest

I recently had a giant spiritual and intellectual breakthrough. Reading my New Testament study materials unearthed some classic quotes by Stephen Robinson in his book, Believing Christ.

Here’s one: Not only must we believe that he is who he says he is, we must also believe that he can do what he says he can do. We must not only believe in Christ, we must also believe Christ when he says he can clean us up and make us celestial. He says that through his atoning blood, all mankind may be saved—and “all mankind” must logically include you and me. So until we accept the real possibility of our own exaltation in the kingdom of God, we do not yet have faith in Christ; we do not yet believe.  (Stephen E. Robinson, Believing Christ, p. 9-10)   

I had heard this thought several times before but this time it hit me where I live – on a deeply emotional level. My struggles with faith in God’s love for me, and my difficulty trusting that my experience in God’s Kingdom would be any different from my mortal, social experience, got a gigantic boost.

Then I remembered part of a priesthood blessing my Mother once received from her Bishop. Paraphrasing, he said that “her life had been the most perfect life she could have been given for her personal growth and spiritual development.” Her life was filled with a custom mix of great adversity and great blessings. While my Mother was a very talented portrait artist, she wasn’t really any different than the rest of us. So if that was true for her and God is a just God and “no respecter of persons” (New Testament, Acts 10:34-5), it must also be true for absolutely every one of us!

Suddenly I pictured the world as this enormous, pulsating, 3D tapestry – throbbing with energy, color, light and dark – as all us mortals bumping up against each other and our circumstances. Our freedom to choose drives all our actions, but consequences we can’t dictate are our ultimate teachers.

Tapestry of Life on Earth

So what are Christ’s promises that I’ve struggled to trust?

I know Heavenly Father and our Savior Jesus Christ want the highest and best for us eternally: to “raise us up at the last day, to dwell with them in glory” forever. Therefore, we can rejoice and absolutely trust that all our good choices will actually get us somewhere far grander than we can possibly imagine.

On a personal level: Years ago, my landlord let me tend our mutual front garden. I edged it with used brick, planted flowers, ferns, and installed stepping stones. As I dug in the dirt, I also dug out some old hurts and watered the ground with my tears. It helped to express them. It also helped to feel sorrow for the ways I had hurt others and strengthen my resolve to do better. I experienced both emotional healing and the Lord’s forgiveness – truly a time when my Savior “did not leave me comfortless.”

Then an image popped into my mind of the playful chipmunks I grew up seeing in our yard – alive and carefree – trusting that their lives would unfold as they were supposed to. This not only took a burden off my shoulders, but off my future as well, bringing a whole new meaning to “living in the moment” and trusting God with the rest!

Just a Chipmunk in God’s Forest

White Space

A salesman once told me that an established maxim in advertising is White Space Sells. He explained that “less is more” in print ads. Keeping titles, information, and slogans short and punchy have a lot more impact than a flyer or ad crammed full of detailed text.

And aren’t we also like that? I tend to shut down when I feel overwhelmed with detail, endless to-do’s, and swirling emotions, just as I throw away flyers with too much to take in at a glance.

For a long time, I’ve used December to reflect on the year past and the one coming up. I form goals, clarify values, and edit out unnecessary involvements. Once my kids were grown, Christmas decorating, baking, and gift-giving (except to charity) lost its charm and freed up even more white space in my schedule and in my head as I streamlined my celebration of Christ’s birth.

This year, I come out of three years of focus on moving, settling into my new home, plus establishing a large garden, and I see an expanding horizon in front of me. It’s both enticing and a little daunting. Increased opportunities also present an increased challenge to carefully discern what should and shouldn’t be tackled, as well as how and when. So I’m not as far along in this process as I normally am after New Year’s. Plus I’m feeling the limits of my own abilities, energy, and drive, both personally and professionally.

Coincidentally, a broadcast of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir recorded a year ago for Human Rights/Martin Luther King Day showed up in my queue on Direct TV last Sunday. The Spoken Word message really spoke to me. Fittingly, Dr. King was quoted as follows:

When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair,
and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights,
let us remember that…[God] is able to make a way out of no way,
and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows.
(Source listed in link above)

There was the light I needed. I was absolutely right to see that by my own powers alone, there really was NO WAY to achieve all my goals and dreams. But as I’ve seen repeatedly, God can open a way where there was no way before. He has provided employment, housing, creative opportunities, and friends. He has led me to insights and wisdom far beyond my own. I don’t quite know where this year is headed yet, although I see glimmers through the trees:
* Continuing to work with home buyers and sellers on a selective basis,
* Defending the faith in writing and orally,
* Looking for a publisher for my phonics readers,
* Expanding my social life.
All are twinkling at me. Stay tuned for updates….

If you’re looking for a good movie that brilliantly illuminates how God opens a way when there is no way, go see Darkest Hour, a film about a couple of weeks in Winston Churchill’s early tenure as Prime Minister in 1940. The entire British Army of 300,000 soldiers was trapped on the French beaches of Dunkirk, with the far more powerful German army and air force poised to annihilate them. Churchill had to weigh the loud voices of powerful British leaders pushing for a “negotiated peace” with Hitler versus his own belief that Hitler is a Bengal Tiger and you don’t negotiate when your head is in his mouth! (paraphrased). Go see it to find out what happened.

I am reaffirming my belief in God’s miracles today and reminding myself to call for them, expect them, and then be grateful for them when they show up. I invite you to do the same, and then let’s share those stories with each other and whoever needs a message of hope.

The Light of Miracles
Courtesy Pixabay.com

36 Months

Last April, my post 28 Months (HERE) described my rather tortured journey to home ownership and the feeling that last spring ushered in an end to “House Jail.” Little did I know it would be replaced by “Garden Jail”! It was only this month that I was paroled once again . . . and on the 3-year anniversary of starting this massive project.

This last year involved a life-and-death battle with weeds, and lawn trying to take back my new garden beds. I got volunteer help from grandchildren and church youth groups. We put over 300′ of lawn edging all around each bed since the walkways were grass. Then I upped the ante by putting commercial grade weed cloth down every walkway between the beds. This conquered much of the problem, but refugee grass kept escaping and invading my beds. Giant tufts of green peeked out from under squash, bean and potato plants, laughing in derision.

I refused to use weed killer. After all who poisons the very ground that feeds? So I pulled up handfuls of grass, hacked at invading turf with my trusty small shovel, mulched heavily and finally put weed cloth down all around the outside of the garden – all at a fearful cost of time and money. Just the clips alone to hold it in place were over $50. I bought a manual lawn mower with the romantic intention of combining exercise with saving money. It was easy to mow the small remaining 20’x20′ patch of grass in my back yard, but the front yard defeated me.

Garden Path Conquered!
Author’s Photo

Since a real estate commission allowed me to install gravel in my front side yard, that eliminated one patch to mow. But even the remaining larger area proved to be too much. My charming Fiskars mower simply didn’t provide a clean cut. I had to go over the lawn 2-3 times to get it presentable and my hand trimmer, even with its long handle, was slow and painful to use. Finally, I made a deal with my wonderful lawn guy: He would mow and trim just the remaining front yard for half his former price, and I would manually mow the back.

By fall, harvesting my overgrown and somewhat neglected garden competed with managing one of the most stressful real estate transactions in my 14-year career. My clients were selling their home and buying a new one, two transactions due to close on the same day. They were much loved and admired friends plus great to work with, but their buyer was a nervous first-time homeowner who put us through our paces during a 7-week escrow and long inspection period.

Throughout all this, I had a garden only partly harvested, overrun with huge healthy plants, and once again I felt like the Miller’s daughter in Rumpelstiltskin facing an unexpected, biggest room of all to spin into gold. I had run out of volunteer options, so after a “light-bulb moment,” I hired some teenage girls which probably saved me from a heart attack! Together we harvested every bed, mulched and covered them with netting against high winds, covered a pile of free palettes and my AC unit with tarps, and even covered the area under the water faucet with extra gravel from my front side yard. Victory!

By the time both transactions closed on the same day in early November, I felt like seaweed washed up on the beach that had been repeatedly run over by a tank and pulverized. I was barely gasping for breath! But I could rest, restock my pantry with my new earnings, and look forward to a season of hibernation and reflection.

December is always a retreat from the hustle and bustle of life for me. This year doubly so. I have solid hope that 2018 will actually materialize as the year of liberation, since 2017 unexpectedly kept me in the path of struggle. The gift of this year was working with two wonderful families getting their homes sold for full value and forging new heart connections with both. That lit candles for me that will burn long after the pain and struggle is forgotten.

And isn’t that the promise of life in general and of Christianity specifically? No matter the trials we face in mortality, we have light and liberation always beckoning us forward: to new adventures, expanding horizons, and deeper joys.

May you all be blessed with a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year!

 

 

 

Hitting the Wall

Recently I had a crisis that almost brought me to my knees, all because I’m a single woman trying to deal with a major lawn project that was totally beyond me.

I bought a Fiskars reel mower this year – you know the kind we used in the 50’s that you just push around your yard – no motor? My idyllic vision of being a suburban farm girl took a serious blow when I realized I would have to mow in four (yeah, 4!) sections, spread out over the week, each week. This seriously crippled my time and energy to work on my first love, gardening.

As I struggled with these conflicting demands, I realized I was fighting a losing battle and something would have to give. Soon, however, a vision popped into my mind: (1) gravel in the front side yard by my drive which would provide extra parking and eventual access to utility yard behind my fence and (2) weed cloth all around the garden in back, both eliminating a lot of grass. Besides, this would reduce my weekly mowing by half – two sessions – and return me to my old Hippie dream of hanging out with herbs, butterflies, and huge squash plants.

Fast forward to the next Saturday. My darling granddaughter came over and we laboriously laid down commercial grade week cloth in the side yard and tacked it down with 100 6″ staples – a true labor of love on her part. I scheduled delivery of 3/4″ round gravel for the afternoon after the August 21 eclipse, and it showed up as promised. The very nice driver tried to honor my request to back his dump truck up to the top of the 45′ stretch of lawn so he could drop his load all along the future drive so we could have a polite volunteer party to rake it into place.

Well, the first thing that happened was one wheel started spinning and sinking about 8-10″ into the ground. I yelled, “STOP,” which he did and returned to the street but not before much of the weed cloth was pulled loose by about 2′ and dislodged many of those 100 clips!

I honestly didn’t know whether to cry or vomit . . . . I think only those women who are alone can understand how vulnerable and overwhelmed I felt. But the driver was nice and helped me re-position the weed cloth, then dumped the gravel in the middle. But now how to spread it out? Yet another crisis. Plus all those loose pins needed fixing.

The next day – Tuesday – I hit the wall. I basically had a spiritual temper tantrum. I told the Lord I was done. I could no longer stand living so close to the edge, that I needed more support, more help, and more blessings. And I needed them NOW.

Ironically, later that day I had to start a cleanse to prepare for a dreaded colonoscopy the next day. So as I purged physically, I continued to purge emotionally and spiritually. I recalled my friend Lindsey advising me once in a crisis that the first thing I needed to do was “thank the Lord for this adversity.”

Are you kidding me? Why would I do that? I could hear her voice saying, “Because that shows our faith that God will always bring about greater good than the size of the adversity.”

This thought was met with extremely wavering faith, but I believe in principle over emotion. So with rather poor grace, told the Lord I at least accepted the situation and would He please, please, please help me solve it? As I progressed forward on Wednesday, my procedure went very smoothly. I got a clean bill of health and was soon eating and feeling good.

My faith and optimism also miraculously returned: Of course great things were coming in my future. Plus insight and solutions kept coming to mind. Here’s what happened:

  • It turned out that the gravel delivery driver also had a small tractor, and he agreed to come the following week and spread  the rock for a very small fee.
  • With sudden inspiration, I asked a large family to send over a couple of teenagers, who wanted some extra money, to help put down weed cloth in the back and weed – they had four!
  • Since they came before Tractor Guy, the five of us quickly finished tacking down weed cloth more securely in front, so we were ready to spread that gravel.
  • Then all four put down 170 feet of weed cloth around the outside perimeter of my back yard, clips and all, both jobs in only 3 hours – oh glorious day!
  • The two older boys refused pay since they had jobs. The two younger girls gladly accepted it with the promise of more work to come.
  • To top this off, the oldest boy volunteered his Sunday School class to come back and spread the gravel by hand, banishing my lingering worries that a tractor would disturb my already traumatized weed cloth in front.
  • Last Wednesday, a crew of six strong guys appeared with rakes, shovels and a wheelbarrow. Within 45 minutes, gravel was nice and smooth, all as Christian service. My contribution: bottled water and cookies from the local grocery.
  • Finally, yesterday, my two young women helpers were back pulling weeds from two neglected beds. Now I can cull strawberry runners and plant them in the newly cleared old bed. I can hand water my herb garden to hit neglected spots, and I’m already planning next year’s beds with great anticipation.

Here’s how it looks:

Side Yard Before
Author’s Photo

Side Yard After
Author’s Photo

Garden Path Conquered!
Author’s Photo

Along with better balance, joy is back in full force. Not only did the Lord help me solve my problem but He used this experience to expand my faith and my spiritual tool kit for battling the darkness of our mortal limitations.

So when you find yourself stuck inside your soul, squeezed tight like a snake needing to shed its skin, remember to thank the Lord for it but also ASK for solutions, comfort, insight, and confirmation of your own plans. They will come.

 

 

28 Months

Today marks 28 months since I first conceived the idea of doing a deeper organization of my home and possessions. I started with possibly the most un-fun job – dejunking my files! Who likes paperwork, now I ask you? But I decided that it was time to marry an old system of putting documents in 3-ring binders by topic with the file folders in drawers, which were quicker but less usable. I started in December 2014 and it took me into January, about five weeks of chaining myself to my desk singing along to Broadway musicals, like Oklahoma and Showboat.

Then I tackled my cramped kitchen, finding yet more alternate pantry space, then my linen closet turned household supply cupboard. After an inspirational spiritual preparedness fair in March 2015 and praying earnestly for goal-setting guidance, I had a vision of a large storage unit stocked with bins and books for the future. Three months later, reality matched the vision. Then in quick succession I worked with rural buyers, researched a home to rent for myself in the rural areas west of me, found a home to buy instead, listed my current rental for my landlord, moved, put in a large garden, found renters for my bonus room, settled in, redid my legal paperwork and battled a second bout of Epstein Barr virus (chronic fatigue) all winter. By New Year’s, I felt like I was in “House Jail” and I wanted out!

Elderberry syrup quickly banished the virus, spring banished the blues, and as I emerged from those 27 months, I found I needed to banish lingering personal doubts and fears about my future – I still wasn’t done. Did I deserve prosperity and higher levels of success and creativity? So I’ve spent an additional month working through this last obstacle – the 28th month! I listened to countless Tabernacle Choir broadcasts, Vocal Pointe’s Christmas concert, and meditated on God’s many invitations throughout the scriptures to trust Him and to trust in His promises to bless our efforts, however imperfect. And I’m making headway – I truly feel “a perfect brightness of hope” as many of my insecurities are healed. (1 Nephi 31:20, Book of Mormon)

I may be just like the plant below, emerging out into the sunshine through hardened layers of habit, doubt and fear.

Breaking Through Obstacles
Courtesy Pixabay.com Image 1147803

Why was I doing this? To create an expanded future, with more time for family and friends, for inspirational writing, for community and church service, and I now have time and energy for them. I feel like a kid on the last day of school facing a long, wonderful summer – whoopie!

This 28-month trek was like the last room in the fairy tale, Rumpelstitskin, where the miller boasted to the king that his daughter could spin straw into gold, but she was in trouble when the king put her to the test! She was promised she could marry him if she would actually spin a room of straw into gold. You all know what happened:  a funny little man showed up and magically did the work for her in exchange for her ring. The king, seeing a bonanza, delayed fulfilling his promise and gave her a bigger room of straw. Her mysterious friend rescued her once again in exchange for her necklace. A final challenge, however, found her with the biggest room of straw yet and nothing with which to pay this funny little man. He suggested she give him her first born child and, thinking she would never have to actually do it, she agreed. The straw was turned to gold, the king finally kept his promise and, in due time, the miller’s daughter had a beautiful child. When the funny little man showed up demanding payment, she was stuck unless she could guess his name. Numerous failures ensued, but finally one of her huntsmen overheard a funny little man dancing around a fire chanting a rhyme that contained his name. Appearing one last time before the young queen, he was flabbergasted when she pronounced his name, Rumpelstitskin, and he dissolved, screaming, into ash.

I believe this, like all fairy tales, is an allegory about life. When we face “impossible” tasks, something or someone magical shows up to help us but it costs us something (faith, courage, work, time, etc.). When our usual talents and resources aren’t enough, the largest challenges require extra brilliance, inspiration, and help from the unseen spiritual forces around all of us.

Willow Cathedral
Courtesy Pixabay.com Image 90987

But the good news is that, because there is goodness in the universe that ultimately rewards effort and sacrifice, we get to “marry the king” and break through into a newness of life. As I emerge from my latest cocoon of struggle (larger than all past ones), new horizons beckon me like the tunnel above. They’re green, inviting, and exciting – far from the drudgery of the past. And I have hope this truly was the last room before greater support systems show up and allow me a more “normal” pace of life and expanded effectiveness. Stay tuned for updates….

In one of those serendipitous happenings, I just finished reading a Maisie Dobbs mystery where our likable British “Investigator and Psychologist” comes to a major crossroads in Leaving Everything Most Loved, to travel into adventure. Her fears were soothed by a wise Indian woman who reassured her with these words:

I’ll tell you this. Leaving that which you love breaks your heart open. But you will find a jewel inside, and this precious jewel is the opening of your heart to all that is new and all that is different, and it will be the making of you – if you allow it to be.

These words reflected my experience leaving my marriage, leaving New Hampshire where I spent the happiest six years of my life, leaving Eagle last year and many well-loved friends. But each move has brought new adventures and new friends, making their own memories. The rewards have been worth the pain of change.

Eternal Life – Part 1 – Grace for This Life

Today is New Year’s Day, a time I and many others refocus our vision forward: a time for fresh beginnings and to be freer from the reach of the past.

One of the greatest blessings of Christianity is the absolute promise of immortality for all mankind and the more conditional promise of eternal progression (shortened to just the phrase Eternal Life), if we live the Christian journey wholeheartedly. This brings an unlimited future of increasingly glorious personal growth, extending into the next life. We will then be rewarded for all sacrifices and trials faithfully endured, and to end up in one of the “many mansions” Christ is preparing for His followers in the hereafter (John 14:2). I don’t know any philosophy or religion whose promises the Holy Spirit will confirm as this was witnessed to me years ago and many times since.

A beloved LDS apostle and scholar, Bruce R. McConkie, named three central Christian doctrines The Three Pillars of Eternity which I described in previous posts. They are the Creation, The Fall, and The Atonement, which are bookended in the Book of Mormon by a preface question, “Do you believe in God?” and a concluding promise of “Eternal Life” as the final state of sincere Christians. Read for yourself: Alma 22:7-15. Here’s the list again with links to the previous posts:

Foundational Concept: There is a God, Part I and There Is a God, Part II
Pillar #1 – The Creation
Pillar #2 – The Fall
Pillar #3 – The Atonement
A Glorious Promise and Reward: Eternal Life – today’s and subsequent posts

Furthermore, I believe that those rewards start to appear in this life. Just as there’s a temporal reward for effort in everyday life – think high school graduation, obtaining a fulfilling job after years of training, seeing a child become a happy and productive citizen, or conquering a life-long pattern of dysfunction, I believe there’s divine grace that blesses and enlarges us as we strive to make spiritual and creative growth as well as temporal progress in this life.

As a divorced mother of 44 years, I struggled financially most of that time. I plodded on trying to juggle work with personal growth and service to God and my fellow man. The phrase muddle through most accurately described my progress through life! I even found a picture on a greeting card I adopted as a personal, totem image. The young woman below is walking through a dreary winter landscape (to me, symbolizing adversity), inadequately dressed but resolute with snowflakes of light and affirmation around her, illuminating her path.

Hopeful Woman in Winter
Source Unknown

But after I got out of debt, bought a house and rented out my bonus room to my church for the sister missionaries, I finally arrived at a place of far greater temporal stability than any time since my divorce. As I settled in, established a garden, and started to sink roots in my new community, I could see the prospect of also being much freer creatively, emotionally, and spiritually. I had time to launch a new phase of real estate work, continue my spiritual writing, give increased community service, and generally have more fun – whoopie! NOTE: In 2020, I sold that home, retired from real estate, and moved to Utah.

A massage therapist recently commented that with all these positive changes, I should find another totem image. I immediately thought of the Monet painting my daughter decoupaged on a wooden plaque many years ago. I found it online immediately:

Claude Monet, Woman with Parasol
Musee D’Orsay, Paris
Image in Public Domain

This lovely painting calls to mind a quote by Albert Camus, French philosopher:

In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me
lay an invincible summer. 

I see myself in a delayed but prolonged creative summer, and I plan to bask in that warmth as I sail warm updrafts of inspiration and divine encouragement. Furthermore, I think these triumphs and that happiness is available to all – it’s called Grace. Hopefully we’ll all build our own “invincible summer” within, believing in the next breakthrough.

The Three Pillars of Eternity: #2 The Fall

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again!

We’ve all grew up hearing this classic nursery rhyme and probably didn’t think a thing of it, but I’ve found a deeper personal meaning in it.

I had a nearly idyllic childhood except for one thing – my family didn’t communicate well. We talked about each other but rarely with each other. Differences often weren’t resolved, people were misjudged, then talked about with either concern or condemnation. Even worse, buried feelings smoldered and burned long afterwards, sometimes erupting without warning.

Not only did this damage our family, but it broke the fragile structure of my early self-esteem into many painful pieces that I’ve struggled to put back together most of my life. And don’t we all have broken places inside? Disappointed hopes, things we’re ashamed we did, ways we’ve been wounded, and ways we’ve wounded others?

After my marriage broke up, I had to look at those broken places and ask how they led me to marry someone who was never going to be right for the long haul. What in me brought me to this place?

I revisited family stories and family patterns. I studied psychology. I practiced better communication with my children, my friends, and at work. But I made only limited progress before I discovered God, prayer, and religion. What a great source of guidance, healing, and power beyond my own that’s been!

As stated by playwright Eugene O’Neill in my About This Blog message to the right:

Man is born broken.
He lives by mending,
And the grace of God is the glue.

That grace has led me to insight and ultimate healing, not in a single event but in round after round of growth cycles.

Scholars tell us that fairy tales, legends, and poetry often contain “archetypes” or classic themes common to many cultures throughout history. Cinderella tells a classic tale of adversity and rags to riches. The Three Little Pigs instructs us to not take short cuts to quality. But Rumpelstiltskin is the one that speaks most strongly about my path. It is a veiled tale of challenge and breakthrough as the Miller’s daughter, with magical help, spins ever larger rooms of straw into gold before she gets to marry the King. Go back and read it. Or read it HERE.

Each healing crisis in my journey seemed bigger than the last and more daunting, but God’s grace always appeared after I had worked hard and also sacrificed something precious to me: my pride, my laziness, my uncaring about others, etc. Marrying the King beckoned to me as symbolic of the final piece of healing that meant I could truly step out of the shadow of the past and fully turn towards a brighter future, with a healthier relationship with God and my fellow man.

This all dovetails with a symbolic dream I had soon after my divorce. I recalled it last week and shared it with my granddaughter. In this dream, I was instructed to sit in a wood straight-backed chair on the stone edge of a pool of water, with its back to it! I had to flip over backwards, chair and all, and land in the water (without the chair hitting me in the process), and then swim to the bottom of the pool to discover something that was there, waiting for me.

Being the physical coward that I am, I was very hesitant to even try. But finally, I gathered up my courage, hurled my legs up and over my head, and fell into the water well away from the falling chair. With relief, I then faced the dive, being a confident swimmer. But as I looked into the murky water, I again shrank from the challenge. I dove, and my worst fears were confirmed as ominous seaweed undulated up towards me, threatening me with its slimy touch. As I swam, though, I found it couldn’t actually touch me. I kept swimming (oddly not needing a breath) until suddenly the seaweed disappeared and I only saw the off-white sandy bottom of the pool. Delicate yellow-green light wafted down. The whole scene lost its menace. It felt familiar and safe. So I swam around looking for what I was sent to find.

Very shortly I came upon a watch lying on the sand all by itself. I looked closer: It was a Mickey Mouse watch with a yellow patent leather band. I laughed at the whimsy of it, picked it up and thought, this is the gift of time!

Then I woke up. I knew it was important and contained a message I needed. I was newly divorced and just starting on my journey of self-discovery and healing. A friend suggested the yellow color was important – that it was “the color of overcoming.” I decided I liked that meaning and it would be a symbolic banner to encourage me when times grew dark. But it remained only a mental image until 2004 when I went to Disneyland with my son’s family. I bought a Mickey Mouse watch to honor this dream. My ongoing quest was approaching 30 years, but oddly I didn’t wear it often. It ended up in my jewelry box, forgotten and not running.

Just lately I feel that God has put together the last of my inner child’s broken pieces. I’ve found that warm, white sand foundation in my soul, and I came across that watch. So now I’ll get a new battery and wear it with a laugh while I wait to see what the “Gift of Time” means in my life!

And isn’t Humpty Dumpty really just symbolic of mortality for every single one of us? The process of life breaks all of us in pieces, one way or another. I recently watched a PBS American Masters special celebrating the life of composer and singer Carole King (trailer HERE, but whole episode probably not still available). In it, her early talent is very evident, but she had her own “broken pieces” and attributed her success to persevering – just never giving up. She said, One day that door does open and if you don’t persevere, you won’t be there when it does. “It” meaning the break-through into creative and personal success she achieved after many heartbreaks and setbacks.

So, let’s none of us quit. Let’s push through whatever life throws at us until we “can marry the King” – whatever that means to each of us – and we can ultimately return to our heavenly King to be welcomed home forever.

Humpty Dumpty Courtesy Dreamstime.com

Humpty Dumpty
Courtesy Dreamstime.com

Do You Believe in God? Part 1

Coming out of science one day in 7th grade, my friend Sally asked me, Do you believe in God?  It took me by surprise, as we had never discussed religion before, and I answered candidly, I don’t know.

I decided to think about it and see what I really believed. I felt that if there was a God, He would be wise, loving, powerful, and all knowing. I thought that if there wasn’t a God, I would feel an emptiness in the universe, a lack of a larger consciousness than what I experienced within myself, from my family, and from the academic community around me. But I felt there was a consciousness around me that wasn’t human, that was bigger and wiser. It felt paternal. Furthermore, that being reacted to the things I said and did, just as a father would: either with approval when I was unselfish or hardworking, or with disappointment when I said something mean or did wrong. I don’t know if I told Sally, but I knew I believed in God. However, I didn’t stop my thinking there.

I lived across the street from an enormous City Park sloping down to the City Pool, then down another hill to a large area tucked into a bend of the Iowa River. It contained two ponds where we fed the ducks in summer and ice skated in winter. The 4th of July fireworks and carnival were held on the softball field there every year, plus there was a small zoo with rabbits, monkeys, buffalo, and peacocks. Though the park was well attended, it often seemed to be nearly empty. So we relished the playgrounds, leading each other around blindfolded, and sledding on the hills undisturbed. When I slept out on our screened-in front porch in the summer, I could hear the peacocks screaming in the night and owls hooting in the huge oaks across the street. There was a brooding consciousness over all the life that happened there. Since then Nature has always spoken to me of a loving caretaker and eternal, orderly mechanisms by which the universe unfolds and operates.

Iowa City Park, Family Photo

Iowa City Park, Family Photo

In college, I devoured philosophy and psychology looking for more answers. I rejected out of hand the existentialism of Sartre and Camus I found in French Lit. If you’re going to be that depressed, what’s the point of even living? I rejected behavioral determinism in learning theory because I experienced my own power of conscious choice. It was a “duh” moment, just like in the children’s story of The Emperor’s New Clothes. We have free choice because I exercised it myself and could see the results of both wise and foolish choices. And there was a spirit around “good” people who were self-sacrificing, hard working, intelligent and kind. They had a form of happiness that no amount of self-indulgence could create. I experienced that myself when I resolved to help out more at home and did so, or when I studied hard for a test and did my best. No donut, new outfit, or TV show gave me that!

Then Pete and I moved to New England for a grand adventure in country living. If I thought Nature spoke to me in Iowa, She set up a symphony in rural New Hampshire. I was awakened by thousands of birds at dawn, picked wild blueberries on Pitcher Mountain with its dizzying views, washed my hair under the small dam on Highland Lake, and enjoyed innumerable dinner parties with like-minded friends. Sadly, Pete and I didn’t continue our adventure together, but we each bought little country houses, burned wood, and drank sparkling well water. I was actively pursuing my own spirituality, learning meditation, astrology, visiting communes, and sharing insights with friends. One of them invited me to a Christian prayer group with the older ladies of our small town. There I learned about Christ’s invitation to come to Him in simple, sincere prayer and His promise to answer.

So one day, alone in my house, I knelt down by an upstairs dormer window and said my first official prayer: “God, if you’re there, I need to know it, and is Jesus really the Christ?” I went on to lay out my concerns for my children and the difficulties I faced providing a life for them on my own. I lay down on my bed and, no sooner than I did so, a waterfall of pure love poured all through me. It lasted for at least 2-3 minutes and soon I was crying tears of real joy. My search was over. I was a Christian. Not from belief, but from my own experience and knowledge.

My younger sister and mother had become active in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints since I’d left home, and they introduced me to the Restored Gospel and the power of a priesthood authorized by God. I learned that all throughout history, those people who lived true to their Christian faith were blessed, prospered, and protected. Here are the words of Moses from the Old Testament:

3 And Moses went up unto God,
and the Lord called unto him out of the mountain, saying,
Thus shalt thou say to the house of Jacob,
and tell the children of Israel; 
4 Ye have seen what I did unto the Egyptians,
and how I bare you on eagles’ wings,
and brought you unto myself.
[In freeing the Israelites from bondage in Egypt]
5 Now therefore, if ye will obey my voice indeed,
and keep my covenant,
then ye shall be a peculiar treasure
unto me above all people: for all the earth is mine: 
6 And ye shall be unto me a kingdom of priests,
and an holy nation.
These are the words which thou shalt speak
unto the children of Israel.
(Exodus 19:3-6, emphasis added)

You might ask yourself if this nation is still a Christian nation, keeping its original covenant with God and meriting His blessings and protections. See my earlier post on Covenant America, July 4, 2014, and more about my personal journey in About Janet.

More importantly, ask yourself the same question my friend Sally asked me so long ago: Do I believe in God? If you say, Yes, then you might ask yourself how you can participate in a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. We are each just one little person, but we can all light our own candle and dispel darkness around us. I wish you Bon Voyage.

A Candle in the Darkness Courtesy Pixabay.com

A Candle in the Darkness
Courtesy Pixabay.com