It is Wonderful!

I love hearing the Prophets and Apostles speak. I love reading the scriptures, reviewing over and over again the sacred words that bring me peace; but I especially appreciate the peace and understanding that fill my heart and soul when I hear the Prophet and Apostles speak. This has been especially true the last few weeks.

Last Saturday was especially hard. I don't know that any one thing happened to make it hard, but a cloud of silly little things just kept getting bigger and bigger...until it rained on my parade and made me cry. I had carefully planned bunches of things to do, but at every turn was confronted with some inability to complete the task, reminding me that I had been left alone, and I would think, "If Robert were here, he would've done this," or "Robert would've been able to fix this."

My large collection of Nativity sets required larger storage space in my new home than was available. I purchased a large shed and ordered the installation for Saturday morning, thinking I could move the boxes piled in the garage into the new shed by the afternoon and be able to park the car in my garage by the evening (that's a big deal!). In my mind, I pictured a beautiful building that would fit within a certain space in the side yard and would hold all of the storage boxes filled with nativity sets. But the shed installers called mid-morning saying they would be late. They finally arrived in the late afternoon, finishing their work moments before I was to have left for a meeting. They asked me to look at the shed before I signed off on the installation. I walked outside and the picture in my mind shattered with the reality of what I had asked for- a long, squat building (HOA compliant!) that took more of the side yard space than I realized and didn't even look as lovely as I had hoped. Can you say eyesore? (to be fair, it IS beautiful and had even been painted, it just wasn't lovely when compared with the rest of the beautifully landscaped yard). I immediately resented that I was having to deal with any of this...and thought if Robert was here, none of it would have happened!

As I returned to the house, I recognized the stage of grief for what it was, gathered my courage and pasted my smile on as I prepared to attend the broadcast of the General Relief Society meeting. I was excited to meet new Relief Society sisters and greet old friends, and I looked forward to hearing the speakers. I tried to forget the new reality residing in my back yard. I rejoiced in seeing my wonderful and beautiful Sisters in Christ. We gathered to listen to the Relief Society leaders and an apostle of the Lord. My smile was still glued in place. I was safe. Or so I thought.

The meeting began, the Spirit filled the room, and began to overflow my heart, filling my eyes with tears. Every single speaker spoke of someone who had lost a loved one in death and the comfort of Christ's Atonement. At first, my frustration was stuck. I knew this truth, I knew it well! But I found myself almost wanting to remain stuck in my frustration and resisted the peace that was trying to swim upstream through my tears. I found i could barely sing the intermediate hymn. During the hymn, my thoughts wandered back to an experience during the rehearsal for Savior of the World, when the actors found themselves overwhelmed with the emotion of their testimony, and as directors we would remind them to feel the emotion but to harness it as they spoke. I sang with emotion and felt my testimony stream down my cheeks. "Oh, it is wonderful! That He should care for me enough to die for me! Oh it is wonderful! Wonderful to me!" I stopped trying to dry my tears with tissues and let them flow down my cheeks freely. I was reminded then that the Sacrifice so lovingly and agonizingly made in the Garden of Gethsemane was made especially for me...my pain and sorrow had already been suffered. I could remain upset and frustrated, or I could allow the Sacrifice to fill the empty spaces and renew my soul. And that is what I wanted... I wanted to feel joy when recalling the sacred memories of my life on earth with Robert. I knew I would be reminded daily of Robert's love and care for me, and I wanted to honor that. I no longer wanted to be upset that he was gone, because I knew and had known for years that all of this was part of the Lord's plan in our lives. And because of that understanding, I knew I would receive all the assistance I needed if I would ask in prayer.

After the singing, Elder Henry B. Eyring spoke of exactly that... his words reminded me that I had been watched over and comforted by many, many people. In the final days that Robert was here, a miniature army materialized, doing things we needed and asked for as well as many things we did not know we needed. Robert liked to say that his 'half-full cup overflowed with blessings', and that truly had happened to us! We endured the trials because of the great unmatched love of our Savior, manifested as love and service given by those around us. My testimony of the Lord's love for me personally was renewed as I thought of those many kindnesses. And, of course, the tears flowed again! So much so that my new friend, Peggy, whispered to me that she knew hearing these speakers was difficult. I responded that it was difficult but good. It is wonderful! I am amazed at the way the Lord works in my life. I am loved by many people, including my sweet husband, but most importantly, I am loved by my Heavenly Father. And it is wonderful!

"I think of His hands, pierced and bleeding to pay the debt.
Such mercy, such love and devotion, can I forget?
No, no! I will praise and adore at the mercy seat until at the glorified throne I kneel at His feet.
Oh, it is wonderful, that He should care for me enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful! Wonderful to me!"

My heart is healed, and while I will continue to miss my husband daily, even hourly, I know that I will be joyfully reunited with him again. I have all that I need. I am truly blessed. And with that peace, I desire to spend my time sharing the Love of God with all those around me. I know in Whom I trust. He will lead me along as I do.

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The more things change....

Many people dislike change. Sometimes I am one of them. Change can be painful. Even when it looks good on the surface. That is the case for me this last month.

I wanted to stay right where I was. I liked my cute little house with the poppy covered mailbox and the Christmas shed built by my sweetheart. I wanted to stay near dear friends and to have everything just be the same. Except it wasn't the same. My sweetheart is not physically present and that makes a huge difference. For reasons I won't go into here, I knew there was only one choice; I couldn't stay.

Nervously, I began looking for another house. I reconsidered many times, but each time I did, something would happen to let me know I needed to move and that it was ok. True to the way Robert and I did things, the entire process moved fairly quickly once I settled into acceptance. People asked how I could leave. How could I stay? Isn't it hard to stay in the house with all those memories? It was harder to move away and be all alone. My sweetheart, confidant and caretaker was gone- unable to do things for me as he had in the past. Every move to a new home is filled with tons of little handyman projects- connect the washing machine; why isn't the hot water heater running; this needs to be mounted to the wall; this hose fitting doesn't work here; oh, that's what the AC sounds like in the middle of the night; this little thing, that little thing. The part of my life who did half of the little things wasn't present, and at every turn I was reminded of that. I would have much rather stayed right where I was and be reminded of it in familiar surroundings. As if facing hard things is easier when we are in our comfort box.

And then there are our children. They knew all the reasons, and they knew there was no choice. My kids were supportive, knowing how hard it was for everyone. His kids were supportive, even when it was hard for them. I'm sure it is and will be a bit strange to see familiar things in new surroundings. Just as it does for me, I'm sure it reminds them of the reason for the change. And it makes me want to be with them, all of them. To share happy things with them, and continue the living in the way Robert wants.

I have been so busy this week that I have not met this change with the same plan as I usually meet hard changes. As I reviewed the last couple of weeks, I recognized the hand of the Lord prominently in all that has happened. That alone gives me comfort. I've also received two blessings, one from a Priesthood leader and one from my sons which have reminded me of the need to greet the changes in my life as the next step and find joy in service and in my family. "Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal." What a gift!

And so this week I am making new plans for new traditions, new happy memories with old familiar things. My friends may live further away, but they are still here and still treasures in my life. I actually live closer to almost all of our kids (they call that Fortuosity). And as I look around me, I am looking forward to spending time with each and every one of our children and grandchildren- breakfasts, barbecues, dinners and more. I feel loved and happy and not nearly so alone. My life is rich with beautiful people. I am loved, not only by my sweetheart, but by my Heavenly Father. I am comforted by His Grace. And that has never changed.

"I love this life, even when it hurts;
Even when I'm weary from the race.
The Power of Heaven lifts me up in this day of Grace."


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For My Children

What a time we can have with grief. I don't know about you, but for me, I want to surround myself in the comfort of familiar things, things that remind me of my sweetheart. His shoes on the closet floor, his hat on the shelf, his journal and scriptures near the bed...everything is almost the same, as if he never left. Seeing his familiar things makes the space created by his absence not quite so, um, empty. Our home is filled with a mix of things that have become 'Us'. Treasures from his time in South America and Samoa, treasures from my passion for Church History, indications of our mutual love for music, and walls filled with pictures of our families, the real treasures of our lives. Even now each day I am surrounded by sweet familiar comfort. Each morning and evening, sitting at the table he made brings me comfort too...he touched this table, therefore he is still present.
Now I do believe that he is certainly present, watching and blessing his loved ones from the other side. While I don't need the table to feel comfort, it helps. Stability in a table. :)
His children want comfort too. They want, even need to have some of his things. In the same way that I gain comfort from the sameness of having these things near me, they want and need to have reminders of his presence in their lives. This becomes problematic. There is only one table. The table is central to their memories. There were several bookcases made by him...most of which the children have put to use in their homes. But there is only one table. And his children have said they want the table, too. What to do? Hmmmmm
As usual, my answer came in a song. Neil Diamond was in town and I lucked out with an invitation to his concert from my sweet daughters-in-law. Oh, the memories! Oh the rhythmic, happy music! I was literally dancing in my seat. :) And then...well, what are the chances he would sing a rather obscure song, one that I had fallen in love with many years ago, Morningside. A song about a man who died and left a handmade treasure for his children.

"And the legs were shaped with his hands
And the top made of oaken wood
And all of the children who gathered around this great table touched it with their laughter.
Ah, and that was good...
And when he died he left a table made of nails and pride
And with his hands he carved these words inside, 'For my children'."

I sat in that concert and cried. Dumb, I know.

Now really, the song is about leaving legacies. And Robert did that. He left a lifelong example of faith, devotion and service. He loved and served everyone he met. I knew what he wanted his children to remember; he wanted them to remember to love others more than themselves, and to serve God with all their hearts. He left lasting treasures in the many friendships he created, as well as the beautiful works of his hands. Treasures from his heart. Those treasures should be quite enough for anyone to have.

He also left treasures he made with his hands. And just as having things of his that remind me of him bring me comfort, having these things he made with his hands would also bring his children comfort and hopefully remind them of the real treasures of his life, the treasures from his heart he hoped they would remember. I have loved the times with Robert, with children and grandchildren around that table. Meals, games, pumpkin carving, coloring pictures, beautiful memories have been made around that table. Those memories bring me joy. Neil Diamond reminded me of that. The table belongs to me, but it was made for his children. So in a few days, Brenda will bring her car and take away the treasure left by her father. I will miss using it daily...that will be hard. But when I do, I will think about how our grandchildren will still gather around it, and it will always be good. I will find joy in thinking about how when the children talk about Grandpa, who made the table, they will talk about all the good things he did, and how he loved God and served others, and...that will be good, too.


"And with his hands he carved these words inside, 'For my children'"

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My Joy IS Full

I'm not sure I can gather my thoughts into anything useful tonight, but for me, putting things on (virtual) paper is always therapeutic, if only to get them written out so I can organize them and decide which thoughts are good. :)
C.S. Lewis said, "No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek, find." Hmmmm. I have always believed that is true, that sometimes, maybe even most of the time, joy is readily available in our lives, and sometimes we have to search to find it. Sometimes sadness or hard times obscures the light of Joy, but it is always available to us. Today, I am trying hard to find it.
So.....here I am, sad. So sad. And feeling alone. My sisters have come to stay for a few days following my husband's funeral, and I still feel alone.
Pedicures today were fun, but there was no one at home to notice the new 'flowers' and pink polish. ☹
We've eaten almost nothing but salads all week, and no one complains that we need a good steak. ☹
Combing through cooking magazines is no fun- who am I going to cook for? This fresh new widow-hood makes me feel like I'm standing in mud. My feet feel squishy and if I lift one foot from the mud, the other is certain to slide away. I don't like to wallow in anything, be it mud or sadness (ok, sand on the beach is different). I am going to have to adjust, I know. I can feel my soul looking for the joy in the little things. My mind wanders the memories of happy times past...sitting on the piano bench, I remember practicing piano duets with my sweetheart and how much fun we had together. I notice the artwork on the walls of our home, nearly every piece is something we chose together, each one with a special meaning and happy experience to go with it. Even the melodic 'tuned' windchimes on the back patio evoke a special memory that lifts the corner of sadness and allows a sliver of happy light to shine through. That little glow leads me to scripture, where I have sought and received comfort many, many times before.
And it is there, in scripture that I am reminded of the one true source of Joy.
" Wherefore, fear not even unto death, for in this world your joy is not full, but in me your joy is full." D & C 101:36
In Him my joy is full.
One thing I've learned is that the language of scripture is no mistake. So I notice that the scripture says my joy IS full, not that it will be full. IS means now; currently. Not something far off, but something very now.
I also notice the familiar command, 'Fear Not'. I have learned to welcome new opportunities for growth and be unafraid. I am learning how the infinite power of my Savior's atonement enables me to do hard things. I can continue in this life, even doing the things that brought me joy before, brought us joy together. Because of that infinite atonement, I have a promise of great joy- when I am reunited with my sweetheart, yes, but also in this life. My joy IS full- in all the things that brought me joy before. My Savior's love has filled in the gaps and lifted my feet from the squishy mud. I stand on firm ground. This is a process, yes, but the sliver of light has now filled the entire window, and my joy truly is full.
"And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing, sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in.
That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing, he bled and died to take away my sin.
Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to Thee, How great thou art, How great thou art.
Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to Thee,
How great thou art, How great Thou art!"
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Christmas in July

If it were up to me, I'd celebrate Christmas all year long. I mean, really, what's not to celebrate? For me, I doubt it would ever grow old. Besides, I love, love, love Christmas Music. I have always felt it is God's special way of speaking to me, of bringing peace and joy (notice the Christmas words?) to my soul.
And on this particularly hard, sad day in July, that is what has happened.
This afternoon, my eternal sweetheart passed from this life. He was the greatest, most kind, selfless man I have ever known. His final acts were of service to me and to his beloved children. Ours was a love story filled with sacred events that led us to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were meant to be together in this life and in eternity. Even after his cancer diagnosis two months after our wedding, we shared a blissful life and gave thanks daily for our love and marriage.
As Robert's mortal body slowed down, we decided that home was the best place to be, so we left the hospital and went home to hospice care. The first days were miraculous as Robert spent his energy attending the wedding of his youngest son. Doctors, friends and family banded together to make it happen and it was amazing. His face beamed with joy as the sacred vows were uttered. At home again, the cancer took it's toll, and on this day, nearly two weeks later, he passed away. Once again, God's hand was evident, and peace enveloped our home in his final hours. Our children (his and mine) expressed their love for him, grief at the loss, and the Comforter was present. Sweet grandchildren sang to me via the Internet, "I Am A Child of God." Once again, friends and family gave sacred service to us in our time of need, which deepened the peace.
But that didn't make going to bed alone this night any easier. I reasoned with myself that I had slept alone in the house, our house, before during Robert's lengthy hospital stays. It didn't change the new and different alone feeling I felt. I decided some music would help my mind relax. This night I tuned my iTunes to William Joseph's newest CD, Be Still. And I cried. I cried through Be Still My Soul, and Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing. I counted blessings, and cried some more. I prayed, giving thanks for this beloved man who entered my life and healed my heart. I reminded myself of the Good News of the Gospel, and as the peace descended upon me once again, the piano sang the perfect answer:
"Silent Night, Holy Night! All is calm, all is bright!... Sleep in Heavenly Peace! Sleep in Heavenly Peace!" Ah, yes! The perfect reminder of the One we look to for our salvation, without whom we would have no Hope of an eternal life with those we love most; "Son of God, Love's pure Light radiant beams from thy holy face, with the dawn of redeeming Grace. Jesus, Lord, at thy birth. Jesus, Lord, at thy birth."
Yes, I will miss my husband for the remainder of my days on this earth. But I have a certain knowledge that we will be reunited again, and I give thanks for my Savior who sacrificed to make that possible. It is His loving example that my husband followed all his life, and because of that, I have Peace and Joy.
I have always loved Christmas in July.
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Swimming in the Summertime

My grandmother owned the most awesome swimming pool. She owned an apartment complex in Inglewood, California. Her large apartment was at the front of the complex, the other apartments were near the back, and between them was a large gated garden with a patio and a pool. The patio and pool area was surrounded by large, leafy palm trees and beautiful bird of paradise flowers, and the seating area had cool pool decor, like fishing nets and buoys. When we went to visit her, I could hear people laughing and enjoying the pool. Splash, laugh, splash, laugh. It all sounded wonderful. I wanted to go swimming. I begged and begged to go.

One day, when I was about four, my parents and I were visiting Grandma. My Aunt, Uncle and cousins were visiting too and....wait for it....we were going swimming! In the pool! I was SO excited! I had my suit on and followed my Dad down the long path, through the gate to the pool area. He opened the gate, and there it was...the beautiful sparkly blue pool! I couldn't wait...I ran towards it, so excited...and jumped in! Splash! I can remember hearing yelling as I was running, 'Stop!' and, "Paul, stop her!" but...I was four. I didn't know how to swim. And now, in the water, I realized I didn't know what to do next. I'd only heard the splashing and laughter, I'd never actually watched anyone swim. So I came up to the surface and as my head popped above the water, I could hear yelling. My Grandma yelled, 'Paddle!' and I heard another splash. I tried to think, as I sunk back into the water what 'paddle' meant and tried to do it. But it wasn't helping much. And so as I bobbed back up, I realized that while splashing was fun, the whole pool thing was maybe not so fun, and As i began to sink again, I got a little scared, and just then, two big strong arms wrapped themselves around me, and my Dad lifted my head out of the water....and even though I was scared, I smiled and was happy because I could feel the safety of his arms around me,

Now I will tell you something I have learned about myself since that day. I have learned this because I have asked and my Heavenly Father has shown it to me. And I have learned from the insight. First, I learned that that entire scene had been played out before in my life. Not in my life on this earth, but in my life before I came to the earth. My pre-earth life. In our pre-earth life, we learned about the great Plan of Happiness. How we would come to earth, gain a mortal body, learn and be tested. And we learned that hopefully we would make wise choices, that would allow us to return and live with our Heavenly Father. The scriptures tell us we shouted for Joy at the thought of coming here to earth. I recall my pre-swimming pool self, and I know that my pre-earth life self was much the same...I was excited! I wanted to come here...I was eager for life on this earth. What's more, as I was surrounded by my Heavenly Father's perfect Love, I had perfect confidence in my ability to swim. I knew God loved me, and would help me and I knew I could gain instruction about what to do. And so I couldn't wait to be here on this earth.

So now, here I am in this big, glorious pool called life. Sometimes we splash and play. Life is fun, we're enjoying ourselves. We have learned to swim. I've learned to plan, to dive correctly, to be careful. Those lessons have made the experience better, more enjoyable. And other times, I discover that I'm in over our head, I don't know how to swim, my arms are growing heavy and I am sinking. But I wanted to be IN the pool! I'm almost ready to sink again. And that is when the joyous miracle happens: I have learned that when I do the best I can, and then ask for His help, my Savior makes up the difference. He brings peace to my weary soul. He lifts me up so my head is above the water and I can feel the sunshine on my face. It is at those moments, when I rely on Him most, that I feel the warmth of His arms, and it gives me Joy.

Behold the outstretched hands of Christ, Our Lord, who came to save.
Whose love and grace redeem our souls and lift us from the grave.
Though bruised and battered as we stray, His guiding hands caress.
He washes and anoints with oil,
Then in His arms we rest.

Behold His wounded hands and feet! Come touch, and see and feel
The wounds and marks that you may know His love for you is real.
Then as you fall to worship Him and wash his feet in tears,
Your Savior takes you in his arms
And quiets all your fears.

(from Behold the Wounds in Jesus Hands by John V. Pearson and David R. Naylor)



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Lift up the hands that hang down....

Baggage claim is probably not an unusual place to meet your future mother-in-law for the first time, but it might seem like a strange place to get a lesson in kindness and compassion. In an odd sort of way, it's an appropriate place to offer help to others ("May I help you with your bags?"), and yes, even to give comfort. I like the idea that as we claim our own 'baggage' we should lift the burdens of others.

Robert's nephew's wedding was just a few days off, and his mother and brother had come to town to attend. This would be my first time meeting them both. I was comfortable and nervous at the same time. But that's another story.

As we entered the baggage claim area, Robert's mother called our attention to a young woman waiting to claim her bags. She explained that they had sat together on the plane. The woman was returning to her home after having buried her mother, who had died of cancer. Mom said, "My heart just breaks for her, she has had to face this all alone." Then I watched Robert move to the woman's side and as he assisted her with her bags, he offered condolences, compassion and hope as he shared his cancer journey (which at that time was limited to the cancer of his late wife) and tender encouragement. The whole thing took just moments. She turned and I saw a smile on her tear-stained face. But as he turned back to me, he had a sort of sheepish look on his face. He whispered to me, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave you standing there, I just had to say something to her to reassure her." I assured him that it was a good thing to do and I wasn't offended in the least, in fact, I was pleased he had done so. You see, I already knew that about Robert, and it is no surprise that this has been the pattern of our lives ever since; to lift those around us and give tender love and support to others. I am certain that Robert is better at it than I am.

As my boys prepared to serve their missions, a particular song became a sort of theme song in our home. The words explain how, although sometimes we are timid about sharing the Good News of the Gospel, the Lord gives us the strength to speak, and by so doing we too are changed. The song is meant to be about missionary work, but it applies to so much more in life. As we listen to, lift and help others in their journey, the testimony we bear of truths we know become stronger and we too are lifted and strengthened as a result. Many times, a question I have faced has been answered as the Spirit gives me words to say to help someone else. It makes me want to dance for the joy I feel...that God loves me so much to guide me as I help others and by so doing help myself. I never want things to always be the same, I want to savor and enjoy every moment (every experience) that comes into my life on this earth. I want, no, I need the strength and peace that comes from lifting others and from bearing testimony of wonderful eternal truths. I find so much peaceful joy as we visit with our children and grandchildren, with our friends and even with strangers. I am certain that God loves me, that He has a plan for me and for my family. He has shown me over and over again that His plan is SO much better than anything I can imagine in my little mind, and His tender mercies remind me that I- we- are in His hands.

And so, this morning, as the phone rang and a stranger somewhere in New Jersey explained how she had gotten Robert's number from the Cancer Survivor's Network, I know it will be a joyous day, because I hear him say, "The thing that gives me the most strength is my faith in God and keeping a positive attitude." And I remembered the woman in the airport and her smiling, tear-stained face.

Lifting the hands that hang down in sorrow,

Strengthening knees that bend in despair,

Reaching the hopeless hearts who do not know His love,

Seeing their lives begin to change, I know I'll never be the same.

How can I keep this gift to myself when I can lift somebody else?

I am a witness of His miracles and His mercy.

I put my future in his hands knowing He's made me all I am.

When I put my faith in Him the truth begins to speak.
His power is real, It moves me until I will not be still.

~("I Will Not Be Still", by Tyler Castleton, Staci Peters, and Greg Simpson)

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