THERE IS A BLESSING IN EVERY TRAGEDY

Nuh huh, you are saying, but just think about it. I know you've all had them...tragedies. Probably lots of them. Illness, death, disease, loss, the list could go on for pages and there would always be some tragedy missing. Probably yours, as all of our tragedies are varied and sometimes totally unbelievable--fiction wouldn't be so bold.

I lost eyesight in one eye and was devastated but you know what? It was the eye that had a detached retina and now has a cataract and I had limited vision out of it anyway. What a blessing to have sight in the better eye.

Sunday, at church, I said to one of my friends, "You look like you are in pain."

"My grandson threw his coat on my floor," she said, (her floors are hardwood and tile), "and I didn't see it, stepped on it, and I fell. Can't you see around my eye? I doctored it as good as I could with make-up."

She thinks she may have cracked some ribs and, indeed, she was in pain. And then she said, "I'm so lucky I didn't break anything, what a blessing."

And so it goes.

This afternoon, we went to the movie with friends. Here in Utah we are in the middle of a GIANT snow storm. The streets are a mess and the parking lot at the theatre had about four inches of slush. As I was getting into the car I bumped my glasses on the door and the lens to my glasses popped out and fell into the slush. I felt like a fool. No grace, no dignity, just whacking my head like an idiot. Phil saw the lens fall and thought it was a piece of ice. He might have stepped on it but...didn't. He reached down and in all that slush, somehow saw the clear piece of glass and retrieved it. What a blessing. I forgot I was a fool and was grateful that my lens wasn't broken, which it would have been if there weren't nice soft slush for it to fall into.

I think we should start recognizing them. Our blessings amidst the tragedies.

Tragedies seen to announce themselves with gusto, like Kramer, when he hearts the doorbell--toenails clicking, rounding the corner on the slick kitchen floor, sliding into the wall, bounding up to clatter some more and start the bark, bark, barking. The blessings come, quietly, like a kitty with velvet paws, sometimes even amid the tragedies. We just need to be still and watch for them.

So, lets' do it, let's watch for the blessings.

I will if you will.

IS THAT A SNOW PLOW, OR ARE WE AT WAR?

Christmas Day is over, the presents are unwrapped and all is quiet on the home front.

Just a few minutes ago Elizabeth and I heard a noise. A prolonged noise. Twice. It's either a snow plow, or we are at war. The fact that there is hardly a skiff of new snow has me wondering if the missiles have been deployed and we are headed into Armageddon.

And then I had the thought: If we are at war, and the missiles have been launched, and the radiation is sifting down, then I better eat all the Christmas candy now, instead of parcelling it out a bit at a time until the new year. Because, as soon as the clock strikes midnight on December 31st (or is it considered January 1st when the clock strikes midnight?) candy must not be consumed, in fact, if I have any in my mouth at that moment, I must spit it out.

Because there might not be a new year, it would be a shame to let all the fudge and little white cookies go to waste. The mutants in the future, sifting through our generation's rubble will come upon the fudge and little white cookies and say, "The people who lived here (and died before New Year's) worshipped fudge and little white cookies and kept them in sacred decorated tins." They will know they are sacred because one of them is a Mary Englebright tin and it says, "Peace." Of course the fudge filled one has a picture of Santa and a reindeer. I don't want them to think I worshipped fudge and little white cookies and Santa, so I guess I better eat the contents, so the mutants-of-the future will not make snarky comments about my religion.

WORRY NOT

A message came in my inbox this morning, just in time, I might add because I woke up feeling like the world was coming to and end and I was caught with a kitchen in disarray, laundry not done, shopping incomplete, a friend who misunderstood me, the diet not started, cats that need to find a new home but a daughter not understanding why, things I can't fix and relationships I haven't tended well enough, Christmas candy still unmade, a birthday present undelivered, letters not written, cookies not baked--they must be ready by 3:30 when my Achievement Days girls are going caroling to the widows in our ward and leaving them a package of cookies (that they probably don't want)--, the date for the Christmas dinner not decided on, food not purchased, packages not mailed, clutter, clutter everywhere, blogs I've neglected, watercolors still in the same spot I put them in two months ago when I was ambitious and thought I could do it all, eternal differences of opinion, and the Christmas tree still not decorated. Maybe your life is like this, too. If so, put your name where mine is in the following quote:

"Tell me, Lynne, if you were to walk out of your home tomorrow morning, gaze upward into the heavens and see me there, in all my splendor, pacing, pining, and worrying; hoping, wishing, and yearning; and questioning whether or not my boldest dreams would ever come true, would you or would you not, wonder if I had gone stark raving mad?

"Well then...? The Universe

"Lynne, you're every bit as splendid."

If you would like words of encouragement, sign up with "The Universe," here. And I hope you can afford to hire a maid...but then, you'd clean before she came. I know that, because that's what I would do.

So, in the midst of all the minutia and undone tasks, my wish for you today is that your burden's be light, along with your worrying, and that you might have a song in your heart .

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WOMEN AND MEN

Last Sunday we woke up to a world of snow. Phil didn't have to be to his BYU ward until 9:00 and so he volunteered to drive me to church. I was happy to accept. I was quite early and so, as usual, I was going through my church bag as I take notes of all the announcements in both Sacrament meeting and Relief Society and needed to make sure I had a pen. (I forward the Relief Society bulletin with all the announcements in the body of that email.) In my search, I also found that I left home without my keys.

The people behind were watching when I made the discovery. They also heard me say that Phil wouldn't be home until the middle of the afternoon. Our church was over at noon.

"Don't worry about it, Lynne," said LouAnn. "You can come home with us."

"You should carry an extra key in your wallet," her husband said.

And there you go. The difference between women and men.

THOUGHT FOR TODAY

This came to me today via email:

"No matter how old a mother is, she watches her middle-aged children for signs of improvement."-- Florida Scott-Maxwell

Isn't this the truth? I have five children and I'm watching--and guess what? Many times I am not disappointed and even more, they are doing things that I can't seem to do, and they are doing them well. They are improving in ways that astonish me. Their capacity for love, forgiveness and service, not to mention repentance--which we all need to do--makes me glad they belong to me. Forever.

As for me? I'm sure Mother is watching from beyond the veil, waiting for signs that I will grow up, get rid of some bad habit, loose weight PERMANENTLY, and just be a better person. She never in her whole life understood my night owl tendencies, and I don't either. But, here I am, still staying up too late, packing extra pounds, being a bit snarky--poor Phil, he is the recipient of my snarky tendencies--, and living with clutter. Oh my. Isn't it time to grow up?

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