ANGELS ATTEND ME

I haven't blogged in a long time. I haven't even looked at my dashboard so I don't know who else has blogged. I have been in a funk. Maybe it's the time of year. Maybe it's circumstances I'm dealing with. Maybe I am just so tired of this life, so tired of the struggle, the drama, the uncertainty that I didn't want it to rub off on anyone else.

I've been desperate for relief. My sister and brother-in-law gave me a blue light to help with the depression. I have sat in front of it three or four times in the morning. Today two angels came to my rescue. Colette and my daughter-in-law, Sharee.

Colette called me on the phone and we talked for a l-o-n-g time. She was concerned because I haven't blogged. I have never met Colette in real life. We email and I follow her blog. She has a kind and generous heart, not to mention a beautiful voice.

Sharee came over and did Reiki on me, bringing some relief. As much relief as the Rieki was the talk, she spent as much time as I needed. She reassured me and loved me and told me something that took a big chunk of my stress away. Angels, both of them, worrying about me, loving me, helping me.

I believe we are never actually alone. I believe we are always attended by someone, family, that has passed on. I really do believe this. I think Mom was here with me today (oh, how I miss my momma), but I can't crawl up on her lap like I did when I was five and tell her my worries and about my hurts. (For one thing, if she weren't dead already, my sitting on her lap would probably kill her. A little depression humor for ya'.) I would love to hear her say words of comfort and maybe even a timeline like, "This worry will be resolved in February, that one will be resolved in March." I don't know if our relatives have that information but if they did it would be so joyful to have a little reassurance.

Our last prophet, President Hinckley used to say something that everyone loved. He said, "Everything is going to be all right." He said this over and over. He was optimistic but he also had knowledge we don't. He said it, I believed it and yet what's the matter with me that I don't believe it enough to be comforted?

So, I'm blogging to just say I'm here. Healthy, except for the bad food I've practically inhaled over the holidays. I'm breathing in and out. I'm trying to be "up." Usually I can see the funny side of life and this will probably be funny, too, in a year.

I have a list I keep at the bottom of my personal history file. I call it: HOW TO COMBAT STRESS/DEPRESSION/HEARTACHE

I have 28 items on that list--or maybe 27 as I seem to have prayer listed twice. Tonight I am going to start with one of them and work my way through. I'm going to start with number 15: Journaling. Write the worst of it down. This is not necessarily a journal you will want anyone to ever read. There is something about writing it out that helps. It’s better if it’s hand written, there is something about physically moving the pen on paper that helps get rid of the fear, depression, sadness, etc. I’m not saying it’s foolproof but it does help.

And before that list are some quotes I've saved. These seem to be meant for me tonight. And Colette and Sharee were meant for me too. I honor both of them and am thankful they are in my life.

1. Be thankful that sometimes God lets you struggle for a long time before that answer comes. Your character will grow; your faith will increase. Richard G. Scott, “Using the Supernal Gift of Prayer,” Ensign, May 2007, 9 (Don't tell, but Elder Scott is my favorite apostle. I have loved every conference talk he has ever given, and when I see him I feel loved, even though I am watching him on TV.)

2. We should honor the Savior’s declaration to “be of good cheer.” Matthew 14:27; Mark 6:50; John 16:33. Jeffrey R. Holland, “The Tongue of Angels,” Ensign, May 2007, 18

3. This is my prayer for all of us. 'Lord, increase our faith.' Increase our faith to bridge the chasms of uncertainty and doubt. . . . Grant us faith to look beyond the problems of the moment to the miracles of the future. . . . Give us faith to do what is right and let the consequence follow. President Gordon B. Hinckley Panama City Panama Fireside, January 20, 1997.

So, I've got to hurry and journal all my worries because I need to get to bed at some kind of a reasonable hour because church starts at 9:00 am, as opposed to last year when it started at 1:00. That's enough to depress a night owl like me, isn't it? Wouldn't it be nice if that were all that's wrong with me?!

JESUS WANTS ME FOR A SUNBEAM

Yesterday and today is the Mormon (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) General Conference. We get broadcasts two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon, with talks from our Prophet and General Authorities. They are filmed in the Conference Center in Salt Lake City and broadcast to TV stations and Stake Centers all over the world. They are translated into 92 languages so Latter Day Saints all over the world can listen in their own languages.

Yesterday, when President Uchtdorf spoke, he mentioned that he loves the song "Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam." This is probably the first Primary song the three-year-old children learn. (I tried to download a video of the song but my skills as a computer competent person are nonexistent.)

The thought immediately came to me that Jesus wants me to be happy--to shine, so to speak--in my life, in my trials, in my encounters with others. I do not shine in my trials. I am not happy in my trials. I am "heavy laden," and "My hands hang down." I sigh. I weep. I want to run away--once I even wrote a story about running away to Texas and described what I would do there. Occasionally, not often, but occasionally, I am even angry. But mostly I worry. Is that a trait of women? Worry? I don't want to worry, I want to have faith.

I am really going to work on my attitude as I feel this was inspiration, sent for me. Jesus wants me to be his sunbeam. Jesus doesn't want me to be his gloomy, doubting, depressed, angry, upset, weeping, horrible person with my feet dragging in the sand and my head hanging down.

Will you help me? Will you be my confidantes? My fellow blooggers who show me by your faith that I can have faith too? I read you blogs and am strengthened as I see you fighting your battles with faith--as I watch you having integrity and courage. We are all in this together, we are all connected.

"I love you and you love me." the next line is, "We are a happy family." As a church, we believe we are all one family. God's children. We are all brothers and sisters.

So, with God as my Father and Jesus as my Savior and with your help, maybe I can become more of a sunbeam. I will hold your hands and be strengthened and sustained.

AND THEY HAVE FAITH

This is a little bunch of tulips that come up every spring in a spot impossible for growth. They are almost to the foundation--almost no sun and no rain or snow ever gets that far back. I have to remember to hand water them. That's fairly easy in the spring, when I can see them, but in the fall, when they are putting down roots, I totally forget. And yet they survive.

We are here on earth like these tulips. We have forgotten our father and Jesus. All we have to go on is the testimony of the prophets. And yet we believe and know we are watched over. And so we flourish and grow and sometimes we even bloom. We do because we have faith. And hope. Especially at Easter, when the faith in our Savior, who gives us the chance to be washed clean so we can return to our Father, is strong.

We all grow differently and in different places but we all grow because our Father loves us and wants us back. Whether we remember or not, we have hope and we believe.

THE WITCHES OF THE PAST AND OF THE FUTURE

When I was a kid I often was not able to go to sleep because the wind howled around the eves or the house and I thought it was a witch, trying to get in. When the heat vent cooled off it buckled and made "someone is creeping up the stairs" noises. I, of course, thought it was the witch. I would have gotten out of bed and run like blazes downstairs to Mom but I knew a witch was hiding under my bed and she'd grab my ankles. It was always a witch.

Now it's fear of the future. Fear for our children. Fear of this and fear of that. Are the fears just like the witch? Just as unrealistic? If we could look back at ourselves from fifteen years in the future would we say, "Hey, we sure were scared of something unrealistic"? We might.

So, I'm going to bed to sleep a night without fears. I hope you will too. It will all work out. There might be some scary times, sad times, alone times, but we'll all get through it and stand on the other side, victorious. The witches of the world are in our head. Let's not let our imaginations run away with us. And let's have faith.

And remind me to read this post when I forget.

SICK OF BEING SICK AND HOPING TO HAVE MORE FAITH, BELIEF AND HOPE

Tonight, as Phil was closing his prayer--for family prayer--he asked that our hope, belief and faith would be increased. I thought this was exactly what I needed to hear and hoped I would be able to have those blessings. I had to stay home today, sick and worrying, worrying way too much and wondering if I had more faith would things be all right or would I just be able to handle them better? I believe, but I need to believe Christ when he tells me to lay my burden's at his feet. And if I had more faith I would know that no matter what, it will be all right.

I just listened to a Devotional speech by Deborah Dean, who teaches English at BYU. It's here. I have printed her talk and will take it upstairs to read. it's called "Strategic Writing, Strategic Living."

So, I am going upstairs to take yet another Oregano capsule, drink more water and go to bed where I will ponder these things.

SIX WORD RELIEF SOCIETY

Older sisters of faith and goodness.

SIX WORDS OF CHEER 7-06-08

Faith, knowledge, banish fear, bring cheer.

ARE TOUGH TIME JUST HERE OR ARE THEY WHERE YOU ARE TOO?

Tough times.

My friend's hubby lost his job. She's frightened. Should she get a job or trust that he will? She doesn't want to move. Again. He says they won't have to but how does he know?

Another friend fell and is on crutches, no one at home to help her. Her husband, the love of her life, that she found late in life, died, and the loneliness is worse now than before she found him.

Two people have leukemia. Not good for either one. One's kids are grown but those kids have already lost their mom to cancer and this would be devastating. The other one is young, married with a two year old--a whole life to want to live, a child she wants to rear, to teach, to watch grow, to laugh with and love--a husband she wants to grow old with.

Another in the hospital...again. She has had so many surgeries she can't remember how many. Close to 30, maybe more. She, too is alone. Her husband was not a very happy person but she adored him until the day he died.

Money worries. For so many it is money, the lack of money, it's never having too much, is it?

Another friend lost her husband and has four kids to rear. The oldest is fifteen, youngest six. How will she do this alone? The loneliness--in the midst of the noise, the scheduling headache with the four kids in sports and music and homework and of them missing their dad--is almost unbearable.

One woman's husband divorced her, he lives high, with a new house, new wife, new life. He knows how to manipulate the system, She lives in poverty with constant stress, going back to school and hopes she can earn enough to live humbly, at best.

Another has a child doing dangerous or illegal things; many are dealing with this.

One's wife has Alzheimer's, he is her caregiver and has health problems of his own. Will she out live him? He wants to care for her until the end, but will he go first?

Another invested her retirement with a scoundrel and lost it all. He probably isn't a real scoundrel, he probably thought he could do well for her but he didn't, and now she has nothing. Now she is older, in poverty. She needs to work but is older, and tired, and discouraged.

Ill health abounds.

This is just the ones I can think of without straining my poor little brain too much. I know that many--that I think are blessed--are nursing worries and fears and hurts that I don't know about.

Fears.

Faith.

Hope.

But also reality.

Most of these people have faith, but some still have some fear. We know that fear and faith cannot exist at the same time. So, if you have faith, can you see, out of the corner of your eye, a wisp of fear? And, if you see a wisp of fear has the faith departed like a freight train?

The pain of divorce, death, an uncertain future...what to do?

Let go? Tell Father to let the Savior carry your hurts? Yes, sounds easy but it isn't, is it? But what other option do we have? We can work hard. We can eat better so the disease doesn't have a running start--I'm REALLY speaking to myself here. We can prepare for the future. We can love those who will let us, help those who we can, and when we need help, we can be gracious and let others help us.

The best relief I know of is prayer. And faith. And stomp on the fear until it smolders. And then...my personal favorite, have friends like I have who say, "All is well." And believe it. I have a friend like that, more than one--several actually, but one in particular who says, "All is well," and when she says it, I calm down and feel better.

Years ago, I was pregnant, at age 42. I worried. I knew the statistics. A dear friend who I will call Pammie, because that is her name--sort of--said, "There is NOTHING wrong with that baby!" She was the voice of authority and I believed her and quit worrying and the pregnancy was easier. Way easier. There was nothing wrong with the baby--that baby is Her Excellency of Mousehole and she is beautiful and smart and funny and I adore her. But what if there had been something wrong? I would have had several months of no fear, no worries, and then I could have faced the problems when they came, instead of anticipating them all along.

What am I saying? Have faith. Be strong. Don't worry. Is it possible to have faith and not worry and then, when, and if we have to face hard times we will be rested and ready? In the meantime let the Savior handle it. He says he can and wants to. So let's believe him. Let's believe him and be his helpers when others need our strength.

I hope all of your are handling what you have in your life right now. If not, I hope you will have faith and I hope that you have a friend who can give you the love you need and the words to give you courage to get through this time with dignity and grace or even with slobbering tears if you need to do that. I've done my share of that, too--it was not a pretty sight but my friends stood by my ugliness with encouragement. They listened. Sometimes they gave advice but mostly they listened and said things like "There, there." It's nice when you have friends, who will just listen and say, "There, there."

Will you believe me if I say I am sending my love to you, even if I don't know you? I am, I hope it will help in some small way or maybe even in a large one, like it does when my friends say they love me, when Phil says he loves me and when they all say, "Don't worry, all is well."

I love you. Be comforted. Let the Savior carry your burden, just for today, just for tonight, just this week. You can pick it up later if you want, but let Him carry it today.

THE WILD JEEP DRIVER AND THE GOOD SHEEPHERDER

It was the summer of 1958. We were going on the mountain with my older sister, Pat, the breezy, confident, army-jeep-driving-schoolteacher. She was taking our group of six--we were twelve and thirteen years old—Holly, my cousin, AnnAlee, LaRee, Julie, Pam—my best friend and me on the mountain so we could have a camping experience and adventures. With Pat, there were always adventures—she could make building a sandwich an adventure.

That summer morning we climbed in her jeep and hung on--it was important when driving with Pat that you hung on. She had the top of the jeep off—she always had the top off—and the windshield down. She used to drive from Las Vegas for long week-ends and would drive the whole way, summer and part of the winter with the top down. Every truck driver along the way knew of her. She honked at waved at each one. She had a whole fleet of truck-driving men watching out for her.

That summer morning we drove away in a roar of exhaust fumes, I imagine our mothers held their breath and hoped for the best.

Once we were on top of the mountain my wacky sister showed us one of the advantages of owning an army jeep and drove us right into trouble.

“The great thing about driving a jeep,” she yelled, over the roar of the engine, “is that you don’t have to stick to the roads. Ta doot, ta doot,” she called in her musical, magic way as she deliberately drove off the road through a large valley, dotted with sagebrush. She weaved in and around the sagebrush. Looking over her shoulder she called to us hanger-on’ers, “Isn’t this fun?” And then she drove on top of a rock. The jeep had enough momentum to get halfway. It was like a green teeter-totter with one laughing driver and six terrified girls, teetering. We scrambled off before it tottered.

“Oops! Look what we did.” She turned the motor off.

We stood around the jeep with our hands in our pockets.

“What do we do now?” someone asked in a quivering little voice.

“Well,” Pat said, ignoring her. “Isn’t that something?” She didn’t seem to be concerned in any way. She actually laughed. Again. Or maybe it was just a continuing laugh. She laughed her whole life.

I didn’t laugh. I was frightened. I knew we were doomed, all alone on the mountain and it was my breezy, irresponsible, laughing sister’s fault.

We hadn’t seen anyone else all day. How long before someone would send help, I wondered. Would we be nothing but bleached bones by then? I had seen my share of Westerns and bleached bones played a big part in the lives of people who were stranded.

Pat walked around the jeep, pushing on it a bit here and there, saying things like, “Well, we’re really stuck, that’s for sure.”

She smiled. When she smiled she could charm ornery mountain lions and she charmed me. She put her arm around me and I forgave her for her recklessness. I forgave her for the breeziness and for the laughter. If I had to die on the mountain at least I would be with someone who was fun and interesting. How awful it would be to become bleached bones with a grumpy person.

“There’s just one thing to do,” she said. “We’ll pray, shall we? Then everything will be all right.”

So we gathered around and folded our arms and prayed. I don’t remember who offered the prayer. It was probably Pat but whoever it was had barely said, “Amen,” when we looked up to see a miracle coming up the draw, a sheepherder, leading a horse. A Border Collie was trotting by his side.

“Got yourself in a bit of a spot, have ya’?” he said when he got closer. He was laughing a little bit too. What was the matter with all these grownups and the laughter?

He seemed about as worried as Pat, which was not at all. The two of them talked for a couple of minutes about stuff that didn't matter one little bit in the world, like the weather, nothing important like how we were going to get rescued.

I thought he should get on his horse and gallop away to bring help. He should have yelled encouraging words like, “It won’t be long now,” over his shoulder as he disappeared in a cloud of sagebrush pollen. He should have waved his Stetson and maybe even a lariat. "I'll leave my trusty dog, Lassie here to keep you safe," he should have called. Instead he ambled, in a bowlegged way around the jeep, pushing it here and there.

“Yup. Ya did a really fine job of it.”

They both laughed. One of the girls gave a vague little laugh. I thought of her as a traitor, this was serious business. There should be no laughter.

He uncoiled a rope from his saddle and tied it to the jeep. He wound it around his saddle horn and in a quiet voice said something to his horse. The horse slowly backed up pulling the rope tight. The sheepherder made a little clicking noise out of the side of his mouth and the horse walked backwards again. The jeep made a horrible screeching noise and bounced off the rock.

The sheepherder knelt down, looked under the jeep and pronounced it fit. He and Pat shook hands, he patted her on the back.

“Well, have yerself a good time with those here girls. Maybe I’ll see you around later. Gotta check on my sheep, so I’ll be a goin’.” He led his horse up the draw and out of sight. We never saw him again and we never saw as much as one sheep on the mountain either. I watched. I watched for a sheepherder wagon. I watched for even one glimpse of white woolliness. There wasn't any. Being the fanciful person I was I wondered if he were an angel or maybe one of the "ancient ones" that come from some kind of a time warp to help stranded fools. Maybe he was John, from the Bible or one of the three Nephites, from the Book of Mormon. He was probably just a sheepherder but to me he was magical.

As soon as he was out of sight we piled back into the jeep and away we went, at speeds the same as before, if not worse, and with the same amount of carefree attitude. Pat sang at the top of her lungs, waved her arms in the air, pointing out things of interest to us. We laughed and pretended indifference at the excessive speed. I glanced at each girl. We all had had white knuckles and clenched teeth with forced smiles so I wasn't alone with my fear.

Pat didn't notice. Life was good for Pat. It was to be enjoyed, full throttle. Life was always good, wherever she was, whatever the circumstance.

An important thing happened to me that day on the mountain, besides being terrified. I learned to believe in the power of prayer. But there was a difference between my belief and Pat’s. She believed too but she knew that help was coming. She asked. Help would come. It was as simple as that. From that day on, I have believed too but she lived her whole life knowing.

My sister has been gone about fifteen years now. She died of sepsis, about seven or eight weeks after receiving a kidney transplant. She was/is the most fascinating person I have ever known and I miss her so much it hurts. She never felt sorry for herself. She never complained that she was the one to have kidney failure. She took what life gave her and squeezed every drop of fun out of it. She is my hero.

WHERE DOES THE HAPPY GO?

Tonight, while watching the Tabernacle Choir on TV I all of a sudden got a warm burst of happiness. It felt so good, so normal, like that is how I should feel every minute of every day. I think that is how we felt when we lived with Heavenly Father before coming to earth. Not all people believe that but I do and I think we were perfectly joyful.

Earth life is hard because we don't remember Heaven and we aren't able to know that no matter what happens here we will be all right. That we will be united with our Heavenly parents and our earthly parents too. It's hard to remember that when it's cold and dark and you worry about so many things.

Phil always says faith and fear cannot coexist. He's right.

Today I taught part of the lesson in Relief Society. I told the sisters how much I miss my mother. I told them I think she is with me a lot of the time, that angels are with all of us. We can't see them but they are there. I wish I were in tune enough to see my angels. Tonight, right now, when it's so dark and cold outside and I am missing my mom and the happy has fled. It would be comforting.