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?!

THANK YOU, MY ANGELS

This is what downtown Provo usually looks like when I need a parking space. Okay, I've exaggerated a bit but parking spaces downtown are a scarce as hen's teeth.Today was a crazy day--a meeting all morning and when I got home I had twenty minutes to meet my sister and a friend for lunch. I had to go all the way downtown--ten minutes--buy a wet stone--five minutes (it should have been 1.5 minutes but the Chinese lady was having an argument with someone on the phone: "No, it is your fault," she kept saying. Finally she hung up on whoever it was because it was NOT her fault, that's for darn sure.)

I needed the wet stone because I was giving someone a Chinese chopper--also known as a cleaver (for those of you who are such sticklers about calling things what they really are)--for her birthday--I know--an odd present but if you put caramels with anything people think it's a good gift. Besides that everyone should have a wet stone. I love sharp knives! They slice your fingers with nice clean cut and everyone knows a band-aid on the fingers is a great sympathy getter. I'm for getting all the sympathy I can. And I love my Chinese chopper, and whatever I love everybody should love. Except for Phil. They should like Phil, and that's all. Unless it's the kids and then they can go ahead and love him.

Then I had to get to Chili's in Orem--ten more minutes--so before I left the driveway I said--to my angels-- "I need a parking space downtown, right next to Chow's!"

So, off I went, in a cloud of exhaust, and when I got downtown, every single bit of the block before Chao's and every single bit of Chao's block was packed full of cars except for a huge space, SIX FEET from Chao's front door. I didn't even have to back up to park.

I got to Chili's only two minutes late.

Thank you, my angels.

Have your angels done anything for you lately?

PS Wet stones at Chao's are only $1.15 but don't go for two weeks. I give a good knife, a breadboard and a wet stone for wedding gifts and I bought all the wet stones they had--they only had three as it was. I'm sure it wasn't the nice Chinese lady's fault that they only had three. It was that dufus-on-the-other-end-of-the-phone's fault.

OTHER PEOPLE'S TROUBLES TROUBLE ME

Why is this? When I hear that other people are having problems such as loss of job, worries, problems with ill health or worries over their children or other family members I become depressed. I worry and fret and wring my hands.

Tonight I got a phone call. The person on the other end told me about problem after problem and by the time I hung up I was so low I could have won a limbo contest.

This person didn't even like Mamma Mia--they saw the bad language and the refrences to past sins and walked out of the movie in protest. I loved the movie. I saw all the funny parts, the love this woman had for her daughter, the love the daughter had for her mom. Now, this phone call has ruined the movie for me. I should have seen all the bad parts, maybe. Am I too nieve? Am I wrong to gloss over the bad parts and focus on the tender, loving parts? And the funny parts, well, maybe the phone call just can't ruin it after all. I will go again and see the funny parts and the loving parts and not listen to the bad words. But then again, am I supporting a movie that should have had higher standards? Should I have walked out in a huff?

Phil can't understand why I allow other people's opinions and their problems to affect me.

"Can you do anything about it?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Then why do you let it bother you?"

"I don't know, it just does."

Does anyone have an answer for this? Some trick that will relieve me of this unnecessary, depressing worry?

A couple of months ago one of the women who writes a blog I check on started on her history. I really admire this woman but I couldn't read it. She lived through it, and is still fine and perking but I couldn't read the trials she had gone through. I became so depressed. What's the matter with me?

A few days ago Phil read an article out of the newspaper out loud to me. It was about how the Chinese have been so underhanded with so many areas of the Olympics, starting with the little girl that was going to sing in the Opening Exercises but because of her poor teeth they brought in a "pretty child" who just mouthed the words that the other girl sang. It took much of the joy out of watching the Olympics. Every Chinese participant I see I wonder, what did you have to give up to be here? Your family? Your freedom to choose whether you wanted to do this or not? Did you have to wear adult diapers to practice the Opening Exercises because no one gave you bathroom time? Did you loose ten pounds because no one fed you or gave you any thing to drink and you didn't get to sleep for two days? What is the matter with people that the image is more important than the people?

And then, when the age of the Chinese girl gymnasts became suspicious I wondered why this is so important that lying and cheating has to be involved. The whole world is involved in lying and cheating. Don't we remember who we are? Doesn't any of our divine heritage shine in us? And because I like Mamma Mia maybe my divine heritage is being stomped to dust too.

I won't even start on politics. I'll just say if I see either candidate on TV I click the mute button. Their accusations, their slander and ridicule sickens me. At times I feel like I'd rather be led by a chicken. Or a goat, maybe.

Other than living in a cave, which, obviously I can't do, what do you suggest? Does anyone else deal with this? And if you do and have conquered the blues and the sadness please tell me how.

I realize this blog has wandered all over the place. I'm sorry I couldn't stick to one subject and be succinct. I just had to talk all this stuff out. I should have written it out in longhand, it would have dissipated easier that way.

I'm okay now, don't worry about me. Our neighbors came over. They laughed and joked and we talked for over a half hour and then I got a hug from the Mom part of this couple and I felt better.

My angels sent them, I'm sure of it. If they hadn't I would have called someone I secretly call my "All is Well," friend. She always knows what to say to make me fell better. I hope you have both. An "All is Well" friend and loving angels who are watching over you. Well, I know you have the latter, you just might not realize it.

SIX WORDS FOR LOST DEBIT CARD

Those angels! Laughing their angel jokes.

MY ANGELS HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR

Yesterday I was paying for groceries and my debit card was gone. Totally gone. I do NOT loose things. Not ever. But it was gone. When I got home I dumped my purse on the table and went through everything. Three times. It was gone. I called the bank--no one had used it since I had used it last week. I called the place I used it last. Not there.


By the way, this is the inside of my purse after the ten pounds of useless stuff has been thrown away. I don't want any junkie-purse-owners to get a complex or anything.

"Are you going to cancel your card?" Phil asked.

"If I can't find it. I feel it's right here."

So, Phil went through everything on the table too. Twice. "Your card is not here. Did you check your pants?"

So I did. I even went through pants pockets of pants I haven't worn in days/weeks/months/years, just in case. I'm not kidding, I went through a pair of pants I don't remember ever wearing. The tags are probably still on them.

But I still didn't call the bank because I knew the card was right here.


Several hours later: I'm writing my blog and I remember I have some notes on "things overheard" in my notebook in my purse.

So I go upstairs, pick up the notebook...that I had looked through THREE TIMES, thoroughly... and Phil had looked through TWICE, and put my fingers barely inside one of the pages and pulled out my debit card. It was right near the edge, not even buried deep inside.

Now I ask you, how did it get in there? The angels put it in there, right? Well, they sure have a great sense of humor, don't you think?


In a week or two I'll laugh about it. Maybe.


PS It was probably mother. She always told me to look out the window to see the horse that I COULD NEVER FIND! I think there never was a horse. In fact this was the subject of my very first blog. My mother. What a jokster.

PPS I don't loose things but I obviously misplace things. Like money. But, hey, at least I'm interesting. Careless and irresponsible, it seems, but interesting. And now, I'm also the butt of angel practical jokes.


PPPS And yes, that's how you spell "butt," as in "the butt of a joke." I looked it up.

SIX OVERHEARD WORDS

Angels, bad days, diarrhea, hot phones.

OVERHEARD II

Overheard at a Stake Conference:
"Angels will go before you on your right hand and your left."

Overheard at a writing critique group:
"I'm thriving in my new energy." When this statement was met with blank stares, the person added, "That's code for 'I'm having a bad day.'"

A little girl talking to her mother. Her mother was holding a brand new baby:
"Momma, you are not a good sharer."

Overheard in a restaurant:
“I don’t know how she continues to live. She talks so much she never takes a breath."

In a parking lot—enjoying a relationship with a disease, I guess:
“I’m doing so well with my diarrhea.”

A sign seen in a store:
If you want breakfast in bed sleep in the kitchen.

On a televised training conference:
Perfect love of the Lord casteth out fear.

Two young mother’s talking:
“My kids have been violent since school let out.”

A little boy talking a mile a minute to his mother:
“Today, on the trampoline we played fetch with raisins.”

Husband, talking to his wife about her gallivanting--with a friend--for several hours when she said it would be just ONE hour!
"You two can't see each other anymore. You're a bad influence on each other. You're supposed to lift each other up. Maybe you two should be grounded."
Then there was much laughter.

Talking to a friend on the phone when she said:
“I’ve got to go now. My phone’s hot.”

And so, it goes. At this time in my life I'm too old to be grounded, I might or might not be thriving in my new energy, and my phone might be the only hot thing about me. But, on the more optimistic side, I have angels going before me on my right hand and my left. What more could anyone ask?

NOTES FROM BEING WITH THE CRAZY PEOPLE

Promised from Saturday's post:

They aren't really crazy, just pleasantly so. Just enough to take the hard edge off life and give it a spin and let the colors bedazzle you.

Sharee asked me if I wanted to go with her on Saturday to one of her favorite stores. I did. Taylor brought me some funky blue-type cheese. I gave him some cheddar sticks mixed with wasabi peas. We're like that, bestowing odd things on each other for no reason. Actually, we haven't given each other odd things much but it would be a great tradition. We should do it more often.

Bailey was with them--see Saturday's pictures for Bailey's good looking face.

The three of them are quick. They keep up a constant barrage of comments. You have to have timing to get your ideas in. They are quick in other ways too. Sharee was driving. We left a furniture store and wanted to turn left--on State Street. It was a "stop sign" street, not a "stop light" one. NO ONE turns left at a stop sign street onto State Street. No one. It's foolish, you will wait there four days.

"You'll never get across"--there are six lanes of traffic. "You'll have to turn right." I'm like that, always ready with helpful advice.

A side note: We have all been reading Carol Tuttle's book, Remembering Wholeness. In part of it she talks about petitioning your angels. Carol tells of an instance when her daughter said, "Have you noticed when I'm with you in the car you get mostly green lights?" When Carol asked her why she said, "I ask the angels to give us green lights."

So, Sharee cruises up to the stop sign. I again offer helpful "you'll have to turn right," advice, only its more of a command.

She turns her head, looks at me and says, "Oh ye of little angels."

She looks right, she looks left and there is a hole in the traffic--so help me, there is never a hole in traffic on State Street. There is a hole in the traffic going north and one going south. She turns left, and three seconds later all six lanes are clogged with traffic. I burst into laughter, she gives me a smug smile and away we go.

"Oh ye of little angels." My new favorite phrase.

Later we were discussing where to eat lunch. Everyone had an opinion including Bailey but he couldn't get a word in. He'd start to say something and someone else would drown him out.

Finally he yelled, "HOW COME EVERYONE'S WEARING CHICKEN-CHEESE UNDERWEAR." Only he yelled it so fast all the words ran together, like a flood.

"What?" we all chorused together, as if we had rehearsed.

"How come we never go to Chuck E. Cheese, anymore?"

Well, then.

After we ate--at Chuck A Rama--a local buffet restaurant--I heard Taylor say, "I'm sorry, Sharee, about the seat. I didn't know you would feel the vibration."

There are some things a mother shouldn't overhear although it is nice to hear that he apologizes for his indiscretions.

All day Taylor kept tattling, "Bailey's eating my sticks."

We reminisced about the time they left Liza in the carport. A post for another day.

I taught them the ever handy phrase, "We're gonna die," which Hillary, my wonderful daughter said so often, when driving with me. Again, a story for another day.

How lucky I am to have five children that I adore, and the people they have married I also adore and they have given me grandchildren, that I adore. How lucky can one woman get? All of them, all of them, are just a little bit crazy. I wonder if that's lucky too. Probably.