Of Oatmeal and Fractions

I'm sure my mother didn't mean it. She was frustrated. I was six years old and stubborn. The oatmeal was cold. And slimy. I wasn't interested. I dawdled and dabbled, but I didn't eat it. "Eat," Mom nagged. It was gross, it got stuck in my throat. Mom's frustration bubbled out. She picked the bowl up, I thought to take it away, but instead the slimy, cold oatmeal wound up on my head...the gooey mess of oatmeal paste running into my ears. I'm sure mom didn't mean to be cruel, but my stubborn, fragile six-year-old spirit rebelled. At that moment, I vowed I would never again eat a bowl of oatmeal.

And I didn't. Oh, I bought oatmeal and served it to my kids on chilly winter mornings. Over 30 years later, many of them do like oatmeal. But I was careful to make sure it was warm and sugary, so they would never have cause to sit in front of a cold mass of melted oats in a bowl. And I ensured that I never touched the stuff. Some times I would remember the trauma and wish that I could overcome it. But mostly, I just refused to eat it (did I mention stubborn already?). My spirit never reached the place where I felt safe enough to try again, to overcome the hurt.

We all have them. Some traumas are silly, I mean, oatmeal is not evil. Some traumas are far, far from silly. They are hideous. I'm not minimizing by any means. But I believe that healing is possible. And I have experienced it. Yes, with oatmeal. But with many other things as well. 

One morning as Robert sat with of his bowl of warm, creamy, brown sugar dusted oatmeal and I sat with my tiny tub of yogurt, he gently said, "Tell me why you don't like oatmeal." No judgement, just a gentle question. Then I realized it was a silly reason to hate oatmeal, and as I explained the hurt that had splintered in my soul all these years, I laughed. And then I cried. Robert gently took my hand and kissed it, kissing the childhood hurt away. I understood for the first time how it felt to trust and not fear judgement for my childishness. 

My 4th grade math teacher probably knew better than to traumatize a classroom full of eager students, but I try to give him the benefit of the doubt. His spit-wad shooting, book throwing, angry outbursts and desk kicking put a permanent halt to my desire to ask questions in class. I have carried a lifelong paralyzing fear of math and being laughed at or scorned for wrong answers. It was rudely reinforced year after year, teacher after teacher, until it ended my freshman year of high school, where my fear found me frozen in front of a roomful of my peers, chalk in hand, attempting to publicly work a problem I did not understand. I heard laughter as the teacher cried derisively, "What's wrong with you? Everyone else in this room gets it! You can stand there until you do too." I never did. 

Mental block firmly in place, I have learned to cope. Calculators and spreadsheets have solved most of my problems (oh, and I married an accountant). That is, until this semester, when I was confronted with a personal finance class, a required course. I entered the course determined to work my way past the block. I pleaded with the Lord to open my mind, hoping I could understand the things that had escaped me before. I felt safe and I wanted to overcome the hurt.

I did relatively well until the unit on fractions.The fractured thought processes ingrained all those years ago began to creep around my homework space at home. They rattled my brain as I began an online math quiz. I sat frozen, my shoulders stiffened against the laughter that was sure to happen as I struggled to work the problems. Except this time there is no laughter. Quietly, gently, the impression enters my mind and I know that I will never be laughed at again. I am surrounded by peace. I can relax, and as I do, the problems untangle in my mind. I understand that I will have to continue to put in the work, but the derisive laughter, the fear are gone. I can learn.

Sometimes a gentle kiss heals our hearts. Sometimes it takes more; it takes faith and prayer and work. But always, the healing can come. Sometimes gradually. I suspect I will always struggle a bit with math, but I can see the growth, the layers of learning, and I am thankful for that much. Sometimes the healing takes us by surprise. Recently, as part of a 'get to know you' activity, I was asked, "What's your favorite breakfast food?" I answered almost without thinking: Brown sugar dusted oatmeal with raisins.

Tell me I'm a fool, 
Tell me that You love me for the fool I am, 

Comfort me like only You can, 

And tell me there's a place 

Where I can feel Your breath 

Like sweet caresses on my face again. 

Take me back to You, 

The place that I once knew as a little child; 

Constantly the eyes of God watched over me. 

Oh, I want to be 

In the place that I once knew as a little child, 

Fall into the bed of faith prepared for me. 

I will rest in You, 

I will rest in You, 

I will rest in You. 

(~ Michelle Tumes, Brent Bourgeois)

What's on Your Playlist?

(Or why it's ok to play Christmas music year 'round)

A 10 year old boy was sitting in my office waiting for his mother. He suddenly looked at me and said, "Hey! This song is from Prince of Egypt!" I listened for a moment as Brian Stokes Mitchell's voice nobly questioned, "If a man lose ev'rything he owns Has he truly lost his worth? Or is it the beginning of a new and brighter birth?".

"Why are you playing that here?" he asked. (It's a little bit funny what some people think is appropriate music for my office waiting area. Like the guy who questioned William Joseph's piano only version of Led Zepplin's Kashmir.) I'm not sure what this boy thought, but I'm sure it surprised him to hear something he recognized and obviously knew well. I like the message of the song and thought it was very appropriate for a counseling office: 

So how can you see what your life is worth

Or where your value lies?

You can never see through the eyes of man

You must look at your life, 

Look at your life through Heaven's Eyes.

Later that day, a friend said she was looking for new 'workout' music and asked what I listened to when I walked. And that got me thinking about playlists. 

We all have them, lists of music that we like to listen to for different occasions. I love Spanish Guitar, especially on Saturday afternoons, with the windows open and a breeze gently rustling. I love good jazz, especially on Friday nights, when I need to unwind after a long week at work. Christmas music, though, inspires me in ways that are difficult to explain. 

And then I thought, "What would happen to people if we did listen to Christmas music all year long?"

The haunting melodic voice of Mindy Gledhill singing "In the Bleak Mid-winter" can soothe a dark windy day and reminds me to warm my heart with service:

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air,

But His mother only in her maiden bliss, 

Worshipped the Beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, Poor as I am? 

If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb, 

If I were a wise man I would do my part, 

Yet what I can I give Him, Give my heart.

And the jovial melody of Carol of the Bells (ok, my favorite version is by the California Guitar Trio) seems to free my feet, and I can dance through almost anything. More importantly, it frees my heart:

        Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells,

All seem to say throw cares away....

Gaily they ring, while people sing

          Songs of good cheer....

(who doesn't needs some good cheer?)

Then there is the gentle lullaby we sing to sleeping grandchildren, that entreats us to receive the Savior:

          O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie,

          Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by"...

          How silently, how silently the wondrous Gift is giv'n!

          So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His heav'n.

          No ear may hear His coming; but in this world of sin,

          Where meek souls will receive him, still The dear Christ enters in.

Not too long ago, on an incredibly warm (that's an understatement) summer day, I found myself in a mood that did not match the happy laughter of the children playing nearby. Those moods don't strike me often, but they do come. On this day, it seemed as if every little comment, as tender and kind as it might have been, made me cry. Some days are like that. 

I said a prayer; I needed to feel some joy, to lift my mood. The day was full of places to go and people to see, so when I got in the car to travel to another destination, I quickly flipped through my playlists, looking for something peaceful. I landed on a Vocal Point album, Lead Thou Me On, which is mainly an album of hymns. But the first song that played that tearful summer day was, you guessed it, a Christmas song. Just the perfect one: 

           Infant holy, Infant lowly, for His bed a cattle stall;

           Oxen lowing, little knowing, Christ the Babe is Lord of all....

As the song continued, I remembered anew the reason for it all...the reason for all that we do on this earth, why we are here and Who is most important to our existence. Peace overpowered my dark mood, I felt strength to go on, given from One who gives us both. 

           Thus rejoicing, free from sorrow, praises voicing, greet the morrow:

            Christ the Babe was born for you, Christ the Babe was born for you!

It's a thought that needs to be heard- and felt- more often than just the month of December, wouldn't you agree? 

On Father's Day

Today is Father's Day. I need to attend church. Today, it sounds like two opposing ideas. 

Like many people, my father has passed on, making Father's Day more a day of remembering. This is also the first Father's Day since my sweet husband passed on. More remembering. There is a part of me (of many of us), that finds it difficult to celebrate when the loss is so new. Our grief consumes us. We think, "I might as well stay home, it will be so hard, I will miss him so much, all I'm going to do is cry anyway." I know that attending church, feeling the Spirit, opens the windows to my soul and lets the rain fall down my cheeks. Days like today make it hard to do publicly.

Still, I needed to renew my spirit, and I knew that one important way to do that is to partake of the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. God in his wisdom, knew I would have days (weeks, months) like this. And He provided a way to be healed, that way requires that I (able bodied as I am) attend Church, where the Sacrament, that renewal, is provided. So I gathered my kleenex and I went. As I arrived, I met a dear frIend who had been widowed only a few couple of months ago. She said she hadn't planned on attending. I was glad she was there, but I know how know how even little comments in a talk, or the words of a hymn can make the tears start to flow. While our friends are kind, and understanding, we still feel a little out of place. 

The meeting started…I looked around. I did not feel out of place. So many kind friends! I felt 'at home'. The words of the hymns reminded me of eternal truths:

"Jesus of Nazareth, Savior and King!

Triumphant over death, Life thou didst bring,"

The words testified that death is not the end, and more importantly, I was reminded of the sacred reason for this miracle; the Savior's sacrifice! 

Tears did not flow this time (hmmm…I must be adjusting), but my heart was no less moved. 

"As to our lips the cup gently we press,

Our hearts are lifted up;

Thy name we bless!" 

I'm so thankful to sing the prayers of my heart! As I sang, I gave silent thanks for this certain knowledge, this Plan of Happiness! I also tucked this understanding away, as a hedge against future days when I am reluctant to attend, knowing the joy I feel when I am here, surrounded by loving friends, and partaking of His Grace in such a sacred way. 

"Guide us where'er we go,

Till in the end

Life evermore we'll know

Through Thee, our Friend."

Father's Day, Mother's Day, Birthdays...they are all merely earthly celebrations. They remind us of things of eternal significance; our families and time on this earth. I need to remember that and celebrate well while I am here.

I Saw A Mighty Angel Fly...

I spied it on Facebook; “This Wednesday, May 15th, we will have a Ward hike at Thunderbird Mountain. If there is any way that you can make it, please come. This will not be an ordinary hike. It will be an opportunity to witness something extraordinary. That is really all I can tell you at this time…” A strange excitement gripped me. Although the post was not really meant for me, I commented on it, and received a direct invitation, “You are invited, Sister Hoopes.”

The next afternoon, a sudden burst of realization gave me a clear understanding about the mysterious invitation and my heart leapt at the thought. Tears filled my eyes as I made a plan. Instantly, nothing could deter me, neither heat nor work would stand in my way. In my very dearest dreams, I had hoped to do this, now I smiled every time I thought of it.

The night before arrived, I was nearly giddy with anticipation. I recalled conversations with Robert, dreaming of this day and hoping we would be able to witness it together. As I dusted off my hiking shoes, I spied Robert’s battered straw hat and pulled it off the shelf. If Robert couldn’t be beside me, I would bring him along on the hike by wearing his hat.

Wednesday morning dawned warm, with a mild breeze. I gave silent thanks for the cooler temperature as we hiked the desert mountain trail. Almost a half-mile later we found a grouping of black volcanic rocks just off the trail, a perfect viewpoint, where we set up camp to await the event.

The super-heated rocks became our benches as we peered through cameras and binoculars, watching the activity around a large, white building a half a mile away. The temple is a sacred place where our eternities united and our hearts rejoice. This temple is being built, 'our' temple is further away. When this temple was announced, we happily made it 'ours' as well, hoping to work there side by side, once it was complete. Now I watched as tiny people moved around the bases of two huge construction cranes. The group chatted lightheartedly until at last the largest crane began to move, and we settled in to watch. Our hopes were soon dashed, as we realized the crane was simply moving a large piece of stone. With nervous sighs, we returned to our restless waiting as the crews below continued to work. Soon the enormous crane began to move again! Slowly, ever so slowly the object of our affections came into view amid our exclamations, “Oh look! See that bit of gold?” “Look, you can see the top!” until finally the entire figure appeared, a mighty angel, Moroni. It glinted in the sun like fine jewelry. The angel appeared to fly as it was carefully guided into place atop the spire.

A hot wind blew, Robert’s hat flapped on my head. I thought what this would have meant to him as I watched the angel settle into place; a gilded trumpet raised to the east, heralding the Savior’s return. My eyes filled with tears as I thought about that day, and the happy reunion that will take place. I wished Robert were with me, that we were holding hands as we always did. A gust of wind knocked his hat off of my head and kissed the tears on my cheeks. Even outside temple walls, there is sacred ground.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Keep Thou My Feet

"Life is what happens when you're making other plans..."

I had plans. 

Robert and I had plans.

We were going to...travel, play with grandkids, spend time with our kids and grandkids, and maybe in a few years we would retire and serve a mission. Where would we go? It was all so fun and exciting. I love having plans. It's true, I'm a planner.

Now Robert's gone. Now what? What was my plan? I felt I had walked to the edge of the light...but I was staring off into darkness. So, I did what any good planner would do: I made immediate plans.

Lead, kindly light amid the encircling gloom;

Lead Thou me on!

The night is dark and I am far from home;

Lead thou me on!

I went back to school. I felt it was important and found an opportunity that suited me. I kept the plan to serve a mission after retirement. I tried to replace the happy mental pictures of Robert and I serving together, knowing that even serving alone would still be a happy endeavor. Still, the path between now and then seemed a little forlorn. Retirement is a few years off. I just couldn't picture in my head what the intervening years looked like. It's easy to make plans with someone, thinking of fun and happy times along the path. But this new plan, well....really, what fun and happy times were there going to be? 

I prayed to know what to do. Was I making the right plans? Was I being wise here? Or there? Like an actress on a stage, I needed motivation. I needed to see just far enough ahead to feel confident that moving ahead in a certain direction was the right thing. Part of finding joy in the journey is knowing you're on the right path, no matter what briars and brambles are thrown in the way.

Keep Thou my feet; 

I do not ask to see the distant scene--

One step enough for me.

And I kept going. That's the other part of finding joy in the journey...not giving up. Joy is around the corner, this I know. (well....sometimes joy is under a rock and you have to move the rock to find it).

The Lord heard my queries and answered in a sweet and inviting way. The light shone not just on the closest steps along the path, but a ways up the road as well. I see and understand where I'm going now. I'm still open to inspiration and possibilities, but for now, my feet are standing on the right path. I can still play with grandkids, do a little traveling, and make plans long into the future. It's possible things will change, but I've learned that the Lord holds His lantern high, so I can see just far enough ahead to keep walking no matter where I am.

So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still

Will lead me on 

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till

The night is gone.

And with the morn those angel faces smile,

Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

Isn't that like the Lords plan? He sends us here to earth? He gives us all we need to succeed. We know enough for now to move elong our earth-life path and be joyful along the way.  

Amazing

God's timing is amazing. I know, we shouldn't be surprised..and I'm not, I'm just sharing an observation.

About a year ago, in fact it may have been last Easter Sunday, I'm not sure, I was privileged to lead the discussion in our women's class at church. The topic was "The Immortality of the Soul". A few days later, Robert would undergo surgery which we hoped would extend his life, and as I read the lesson material, I felt the message sink deep into my soul in a way that rarely happens. One quote stood out to me: "eternity doesn’t begin after this life but that mortality is a crucial part of eternity"- (George Albert Smith). I commented to the ladies in our group that with the 'reality if mortality' staring me (us) in the face, I felt a huge sense of comfort in this understanding. Whatever we were about to face was dwarfed by the Savior's immense love for us. I believe God's timing- that I would lead this discussion at such a time in my life, was not an accident. God meant for it to happen to remind me of precious truths: To know that life is eternal is a wonderful blessing. This idea is not foreign to us; William Wordsworth wrote:

"Our birth is but a sleep, and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
hath had elsewhere it's setting
and cometh from afar."

Our journey on this earth is filled with darkness and light, health and sickness, pleasure and pain, happiness and sadness. We cannot experience or appreciate one without having an understanding of the other. The tiny bright green buds on a tree seems to glow after the darkest of winters. So it is with life. Easter reminds us of that. And not just the Welcome Spring part of Easter, though that is part if it, but the real Story of Easter. (I do not have poetic language for this, it is a simple truth, so I say it simply) Jesus Christ lived, died and rose again on the third day, and because He did so, we too will rise again. He lives! George Albert Smith said, "The Saviour’s righteous life is a perfect example to all, and His resurrection was the first assurance to humanity that we, too, shall come forth from the tomb."

I marvel that he would descend from his throne divine
To rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine,
That he should extend his great love unto such as I,
Sufficient to own, to redeem, and to justify.

I found some pictures from last Easter, all the grandchildren (and children- thats a crowd!), gathered in our back yard, playing egg toss games, laughing and smiling. How precious and Sacred the time we have together on earth is! This Easter we gathered again, playing games, laughing, smiling. There were not as many of us this year...some have moved away, too far to join us for a day and, well, Robert was gone. But when I think about the eternal plan, the sadness is lessened. When I think of the love and sacrifice of my Savior, I am overcome. I know what sorrow and pain feels like. Christ does too, for He suffered mine, and everyone else's. He did this just so our eternal lives could continue. That's amazing to me!

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!





- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The Lonely Hearts Club

Valentines Day

I knew it would be hard. I prepared for it- made plans to keep busy and serve others, but it was still hard to hear and see the Valentine greetings of others who had spouses or partners who would be available for sweet moments later on. Lets face it, going home to my sweet little dog just isn't the same. The bottom line is, I miss Robert, something fierce.

Now you understand that I have spent Valentines Day alone before. My divorce was finalized on Valentines Day years ago. (Its the Lord's way with me- He knows I have a sense of humor). There are those who would say, "go find someone to be with on Valentines Day," but that is not me. It can't be just anyone, and I'm stubborn besides (a Zehrbach trait if ever there was one), I just want MY own sweetheart.

So my day began with a more earnest than usual prayer, but, as I have learned I did not ask for things, I gave thanks. Thanks for a beloved companion who loved me in a way I had never understood possible. And for temple covenants, that bind is together eternally, and make possible a glorious reunion. Thanks for my Savior, who sacrificed all to provide an infinite atonement, by whose power and grace all things are possible. Thanks for sweet friends and family, who are here on earth and who bring Joy to my life. Thanks for my understanding of the Gospel plan, which gives me hope and peace. And finally, thanks for the opportunity to offer some kind of service and love to another this day, and lift them as Robert would have, so that I might feel closer to him.

"Savior, Redeemer of my Soul,
Whose mighty hand hath made me whole,
Who'se wondrous power hath raised me up
and filled with sweet my bitter cup.
What tongue my gratitude can tell,
O Gracious God of Israel."

So that was my prayer as I left the house that morning. And as I did, I noticed that the gratitude in my heart made me smile. I began to feel happier, less alone. I discovered that I was still a bit jealous of others with their sweethearts,but the good feelings returned as soon as I sent valentine wishes to ALL my children (and some spouses), and that kept things moving along.

Sure, there were still tough moments...like a text message from a friend saying, "we're sure Robert is nearby" - and really, that was still a sort of happy sad moment. But by the end of the day, I felt so peaceful and happy, even those things didn't make me cry. As day drew to a close, I looked back, trying to learn from the experience. The more I thought of others, the better I felt. The more I gave thanks for the blessings I had, even blessings that came as a result of hard things, the more aware I became of the needs of others, and as I tried to serve others, the more I felt Heavenly Father's love. Thinking of Robert and our beautiful life together only made me smile. I know we will be together again. This short time apart will feel like nothing then. But what I DO in this short time apart- that will make all the difference in how we do feel then.

"O'errule mine acts to serve thine ends.
Change frowning foes to smiling friends.
Chasten my soul till I shall be
In perfect harmony with thee.
Make me more worthy of thy love
And fit me for the life above."


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad