The Last Goodbye

The fog lay softly like a thick, warm, wool blanket across the expanse before us. “We only have three days,” I reminded myself silently. I could see each and every bone under the skin as I used my knuckles to grip the steering wheel with fervent intensity. At 2:15 a.m., Clyde slept next to me on the passenger seat of our Silver Taurus. His low, gentle breathing gave me permission to breathe as well. “We only have three days. It’s not enough time, but it was all we have.” I thought again. I became determined not to waste a single minute for sleep or to wait for the dense, soupy fog to lift. The day was Friday, March 9th, 2007. My son would marry his darling sweetheart the next day at the St. George Temple. Our plane home would leave the tarmac from Las Vegas on Monday. Time to spend with our kids was precious, and I wasn’t about to allow something like impenetrable fog to stand in my way. We promised to be in Ephraim, Utah, by mid morning; then we, as a family unit, would make the additional drive to Enoch, the home of my soon-to-be daughter-in-law.
So I had to keep driving. There was no choice in my mind about it. The fog hit suddenly without warning. The night was inky black. No moon and few stars to light our path. Just our headlights provided the necessary illumination to show the path before me. Now that we had driven into the fog, the headlights became a hindrance rather than a help. It felt as though I had unknowingly traversed into the deepest, darkest ocean. I imagined my car to be dolphin swimming alone far from the starry lights above. Now the fog had become a net, set to entrap and immobilize me. I would have none of it. “We only have three days!”
Deciding quickly I needed assistance, I uttered a strong and confident prayer, muttering, “Father, I have to focus on the road ahead. I cannot see. Please help me to not kill us so our family can be together for our three short days.” I closed in the Savior’s holy name, sure that an answer would come. Within one minute the first miracle took place. From the right in my peripheral vision, I noticed glimmering lights moving through the thick atmosphere. At first, my mind could not process what was there, having to completely focus on the pavement moving rapidly underneath the headlights. Small, red and orange lights appeared, which were stretched in a linear pattern.
Then, suddenly a large, gray mass entered the road in front of me. It was a semi adorned with track lights all over the trailer it hauled. A way had been provided; lights that I could now move my focus to and follow with assurance. I saw a huge humpback whale that had become entangled in glorious, colorful Christmas tree lights. I knew the dolphin would find its way through the murky, ensnaring blackness.
My breathing eased to a more, steady pattern, my fingers released some of the pressure off the steering wheel, and my shoulders returned to a more comfortable position. Thirty minutes later, the Christmas tree truck, as I had affectionately named it in my imagination, exited the freeway. My initial impulse was to follow behind, but my head shook of its own accord. I would keep moving forward, stopping only for fuel. I repeated that refrain again as I had the many hours prior, “We only have three days.” I stubbornly, yet assuredly knew help would come. I said goodbye to the beautiful, gray whale lit up like Christmas and thanked him for his help. A second later another semi pulled in front of our car. Another Christmas tree truck lit up in the identical pattern as its predecessor would shine in front of me, allowing me to continue my journey westward as safely as possible. This was the second miraculous answer to my earnest prayer and I gave thanks to Father in Heaven again.
After approximately 45 minutes, that Christmas tree truck turned on his right blinker, and I smiled. Could it happen again? Would I be so fortunate? I reflected quickly on my feelings and decided to remain on the road, moving forward. I looked to my right as if I already knew what would be there. I nearly forgot my second thanks and goodbye to the trucker who safely guided me the middle leg of my foggy journey. The third, identical Christmas tree truck entered the roadway and tears sprang to my eyes.
This was an amazing experience, and I was probably the only person on earth to witness what was happening. I could see Father smiling kindly, blinking his large eyes, and perhaps even chuckling a bit at my amazement. Within 20 minutes, the fog began to dissipate becoming less and less dense. Then it was gone. The roadway was black in front of me as the white dashes in the middle of the road reflected my headlights and became my new compass. I passed the trucker slowly, waving my hand and attempting to show my appreciation for his help amid the soupy darkness. He waved and smiled back at me, seeming to show he understood my feelings. I said my last goodbye.
Three earthly saviors had come just at the very moment I needed them most. Father had sent them, and I prayed they each would be blessed. As I had time to reflect on the previous couple of hours, I realized an important lesson for all of us. Heavenly Father may not remove the deep and assailing fogs that block or hinder our progress, but He can provide the light necessary to see our way through as we exercise our faith in Him.

Powerful Prayers

I know I am coming late to the party, but I have made a discovery about prayer and that is there is power in it. I can see many heads nodding and even friends and family who are saying, “I have heard you bear testimony of this power many times!” That is true, but recently my prayers have lacked intensity and focus. I have actually prayed about praying, asking for help from on high. I have become somewhat puzzled about exactly how prayers function and why some seem to succeed and others not so much. I have just been voicing my gratitude, which is deep and sure. I have been avoiding asking for anything for some time, several months now. I have written about feeling my cup is overflowing and my heart is just filled with such thanksgiving. After many prayers wondering aloud and silently about the efficacy of prayer, I had a revelation.

I will back up to explain to those who may not know me well enough to understand that I do actually understand how prayers work. I know when I say the name “Heavenly Father”, His ears are immediately and instantly turned and tuned in to my voice or thoughts. I know he knows my hopes, desires, loves, plans, goals, etc. I also know that prayers are most effective when we are sincere, focused, grateful, and humble. I know we are utterly and completely dependent upon Jesus Christ and need to be in order to be truly converted. Elder Richard G. Scott says to be converted is to have love for all men and to have a fixed determination to live all the commandments of God. When we achieve this level of conversion, our prayers become more in tune with Heavenly Father’s will, and we do not ask for that which we ought not. In fact, when we do pray like that, Heavenly Father will grant us the things for which we have prayed.

Sorry to digress; it’s just that some people may question why I do not understand prayers. I have just discovered a new idea about prayer. That idea includes power, real, intense, effective power. When we pray in faith, we are actually creating power within the universe. We are the growers of that power. All power comes from Christ, who received all He has through the Father. The power is His; we simply grow it, make it more intense or purposeful, give it true direction, and magnify it or multiply it.

It follows the idea of glorifying Father in Heaven. We do that through our obedience. Imagine an invisible, long, golden cord tethered to us. All these shining, glimmering cords attach themselves to Christ. Christ has His own, which is tethered to Father. Through it personal revelation, answers to prayers, inspiration, and testimony flows from Heaven to us. When we are obedient, righteous, humble, long suffering, benevolent, faithful, kind, true, and loving, our cord becomes stronger and thicker. The more we act in these ways and grow our faith, glory is returned to our Savior and onto our Father along this golden cord. Resulting in Christ’s power intensifying and growing and glory is given.

Prayers follow this same thought process. If you can continue the imagery of the glorious, tethered cord, our prayers move upward and power is returned through the same means. If our prayers are truly in tune with the will of Father in Heaven, then our power to bring about the consequence we intend is magnified.

So as I was traveling to work early in the morning, I felt again the tendency to be unfocused, forgetting on the prayer I had begun. Instead I was imagining the day ahead and responsibilities and so forth. I wondered why my prayers were lacking the focus and intention and purpose I have experienced for many years. And then it came to me, like a flash of light. It is surely a duty of Satan and his minions to distract us and keep us from our prayers. They must realize full well the power that is created or generated by sincere, grateful, purposeful, and humble prayer. Consequently, I felt a renewed spirit of determination to not be distracted and detracted from my prayers, which are crucial to all of us.

I am not stating this is doctrine, but it feels true and good. I am enthusiastic to share any new discoveries I have with all those I love, know, and meet.

Deep Gratitude for Christ's Suffering

An important dimension of a broken heart is our deep gratitude for Christ's suffering on our behalf. In Gethsemane, the Savior 'descended below all things' (D&C 88:6) as He bore the burden of sin for every human being. At Golgotha, He 'poured out his soul unto death' (Isaiah 53:12), and His great heart literally broke with an all encompassing love for the children of God. When we remember the Savior and His suffering, our hearts too will break in gratitude for the Anointed One."As we make the sacrifice to Him of all that we have and all that we are, the Lord will fill our hearts with peace. He will 'bind up the brokenhearted' (Isaiah 61:1) and grace our lives with the love of God, 'sweet above all that is sweet, . . . and pure above all that is pure' (Alma 32:42).
"Bruce D. Porter, "A Broken Heart and a Contrite Spirit," Ensign, Nov. 2007, 32

A Sunny Fall Walk

Written 11/8/08
Sox sneaks out of our great big, perfectly good, fenced-in yard. To our multi-colored Cock-a-poo mix family dog, freedom is the ultimate plan. She wants so badly to roam free, sniff newly-discovered scents, and come dangerously close to dogs twice her size. We never know how she gets out; we definitely try to prevent it, but escape is her goal and, alas, we cannot prevent her escape. My husband is concerned about it and wants to scold her when she finally returns, hot and thirsty and satisfied. I, on the other hand, understand her need to break free, discover uncharted territory, and take in the resplendent colors of nature. Okay, a dog, who sees in black and white may not be so concerned about the resplendent colors of nature, so that may not apply directly to her. As I breathe in the crisp, fall air, I am filled with contentment and appreciation for this beautiful earth, which has been created for our benefit. Heavenly Father wants us to feel and experience joy in His creations. He could have chosen a dull, dark planet on which we would live, but instead He commissioned Christ to use the best of matter, to organize it into a wondrous place, and create a glorious and beautiful abode for His children. Isn’t that just like Him? It’s His purpose to give us His very best, at least the best we can currently imagine. I am quite sure greater designs are planned for us if we pass the tests and trials of this life.

I depart in the early afternoon to go in search of Sox, who I am sure would be enjoying a grand adventure. Almost immediately, I spot her as she hangs her head low, knowing she is not supposed to leave our great big, perfectly good, fenced-in yard. I kneel down on the grass and allow her to slink up to me. I attach her blue leash to her green collar, pat her head, and decide she needs to walk a bit more.

I need to be in nature, feel the cool breeze, smell the musky fall scents, and look up into the snow-capped mountain peaks. I would love to walk up into the mountains, but it would be quite a hike just to arrive at the foothills. So if I can just move in their direction, I can feel somewhat satisfied. All my life I have coveted a quiet place in nature to gather and organize my thoughts and to have conversations with my Father in Heaven. I walk directly to such a location today. I will not share exactly where I found it at this time, but, if pressed, will tell anyone searching for such a spot. I cannot selfishly guard it because it doesn’t belong to me at all. A clear mountain stream flows through the middle of the pasture. A well-built tree house and fort constructed by some creative children shade the area. The colors of emerald, jade, olive, russet, auburn, tan, and pallid white from the mountains beyond become a the perfect backdrop.

I sit and watch happily as Sox, released from her leash, sloshes through the cold, mountain spring water. As I study the craftsmanship of the construction of the tree house and attached fort, I speak aloud the thoughts that have been plaguing all morning. Absolutely sure I cannot be overheard, I give voice to the ideas that need to be cataloged and filed. Confident my words are reaching Heavenly ears, I smile with gratitude at my solitude and good will at securing a great prayer locality.

Finally I decide to venture on, moving east toward the mountainside and stride back into a fine neighborhood of people. Families are securing Christmas lights on rooftops. One man fulfilling that mission comments begrudgingly he is completing a task on his honey-do list. I walk alongside two men on horseback, one paint and one quarter horse. Of course, I’m speaking on a subject about which I know little. I ask one, "Is that a paint?" "Yes," he answers smiling. "I love paints." He replies, "They are beautiful, aren't they?" "And gentle," I add. The other gentleman asks, in facetious offense, “Don’t you like my horse?” “Of course” I laugh, “I love the black color on your horse.” They laugh either at their own joke or about my obvious lack of knowledge about the four-legged species. I smile and remember my good fortune to live in such a community. Neighbors’ friendly waves and warm greetings enter my heart, and I am filled with joy once more!

Writing Assignment II

Topic: Why I write?
Some periods I can't help myself. I simply must write. Words flow out of me as though I were a river meeting with a cliff face and the sudden waterfall represents the words as they fall on the page. Other times the river is dammed; the water is cut off with no release, no path for the moving water. Likewise I feel no impetus to write as if the need has been removed, or I feel my words could benefit no one, so my desire to record my thoughts is squelched in the mountain spring stage.
When pressed, I can usually find a topic about which I could go on and on extrapolating each nuance and sub-thought to its desired fulfillment. I find such events occur either in letters or emails. I can utilize those moments for expressing feelings and desires as well as playing with language and words. Even text messages between me and my family and friends become catalysts for me and my playful adventure with linguistics.
I feel sure that the readers of such messages are taken aback and may even consider the writer to be a nitwit or loon. However, my need for written expression supersedes my worry of what others will think of me.
So, I write to express inner thoughts, desires, dreams, worries, and ideas. I require an outlet for such as I engage in creative language usage. Until recently I thought I could publish these as story ideas, but now I believe I can use my writing for personal enjoyment and for sharing with family and friends and future posterity.

Wriing Assignments

I cannot believe I am doing this, but in my writing class we are encouraged to share (if we want) what we write with others. If any of us in the class plan to be published, we need to have no less than four proof-readers. Which means we need to share our writing with others. Breathe Breathe...I can do this!!

One of our first assignments was to write in class a quick story (meaning in about 10 - 15 minutes) given two topics. I needed to start with the subject of a "circus or carnival" and needed to end the story with the phrase "forever be a librarian." My initial thought was I don't care for carnivals and how would I get to "forever being a librarian." So I thought I should use my dislike for carnivals and capture that emotion somehow. The following is what I wrote within the time period.

"I grew up traveling every week to a new location. Staying three days, packing up, and moving on. I never made friends. People looked at my family as though we were less than or they did not look at us at all.
My mother and father died right after I was born in a drunk driving accident. In fact, that person responsible for their death had just come from the carnival, our carnival.
My brother and I did not attend school, but my uncle did the best he could to raise us. Our school lessons happened as he drove our camper from place to place. Uncle Pete gave us assignments each morning in Math, History, English. As we watched the outside world flash by, he would give us verbal quizzes about what he knew of each subject.
When we arrived in each new town, I would immediately inquire about where my brother and I could find the nearest library. My uncle would drop us off and go to set up the carnival. Meanwhile, I would get lost in whatever new adventure I could read about in the first book I grabbed from the shelf, knowing full well my time there would be limited.
Being away from the sights, sounds, and smells of the carnival - the very thing that took my parents from me - was what led me to forever being a librarian."

My Valley

Written November 1, 2008. How I adore my valley! I've driven into it from the west, north, east, and south, during daylight and under inky black skies, with clouds low and hovering covering the mountain peaks, with the sun shining so brightly my eyes hurt, under a blanket of dark, stormy clouds at dusk, with rain falling on the west and east mountain ranges and the sun beaming into the valley below, and lit by a million stars above. Entering the valley is such a treat! Through the Nephi Canyon overshadowed by the massive Mount Nebo, a highway winds deep into the canyon's bottom. When you drive in the opposite way from the valley toward Mount Nebo, you literally cannot see the canyon. Your car drops slowly and subtly into the crevice between mountains. Pioneers died in that canyon, killed by Indians who jealously guarded their land. I first experienced this drive in winter, snow piled deep on all sides. As I am lifted from Nephi Canyon up into our Sanpete Valley, I lose my breath each time. As I arrive at the top of the hill and look down into the valley, the lights of six towns brightly reveal their presence. To the far right is Wales and next to it straight ahead is Fountain Green. Over to the far left is Mt. Pleasant and beyond is Moroni. Ephraim is a little further away and clearly the largest of the cities. Lastly Manti is made apparent by the glowing white Manti Temple. It shows just a fraction of an inch tall, but is the brightest object in the entire valley! My heart allways skips a beat as the temple comes into my view. I never had a clear understanding of mountains until I moved here. Only a select few are named. In our particular area only two have been given identification, Mount Nebo (the tallest mountain in sight) and Horseshoe Mountain, aptly named for its horseshoe appearance. This is an agricultural area, but unlike Illinois from where we hail, corn and soy beans are not the means of support here. Livestock are everywhere. Herds of cattle and sheep abound. Turkey buildings dot the landscape and even light up the night with strips of orange color from the heat and light inside. A turkey farmer told me Sanpete Valley houses a million turkeys. Horses are utilized as working animals herding the cattle and sheep up into and down out of the mountains. The old west is alive and well in this beautiful valley. The bi-annual sheep movement is amazing to behold. The bleeting white and black sheep are walked from the valley below up into the mountains and brought back down again. Boys are OHVs, barking and able sheep dogs, and men astride horses guide the herds to safety right on the city streets and down the highways. The old ways are still followed, while newer technologies are embraced. Deer and Elk walk freely along our highways and down the middle of our city streets. Last winter five deer fed in our yard as the snow-covered mountains just behind our home hid their sustenance. Just a few weeks ago hunting season began and gun shots could regularly be heard from our east mountains. I do not see as many rabbits and squirrels as I did in my Illinois yard, but I'm assured they abide here in abundance. I also have seen a lack of fowl compared to my life before. While I was quite accustomed to seeing bald eagles, hawks, owls, other birds of prey, bats, and all manner of smaller, lovely, colorful, and chirping songbirds, their numbers are hugely diminished here by comparison. The LDS faithful are humble, hard-working, stalwart, service-oriented in an open way here. They live righteously as a matter of course. Discussion of gospel principles can be and are conducted everywhere, in the check-out lines of Wal-mart, at breaks during work, across the fences with neighbors, and in the refreshment area of the local theater. Invitations to church activities are extended regularly and are, typically, received gladly with words of agreement by the recipient that going back to church is a personal goal. The activity that prevents most from living the ideals of the mostly LDS population is almost universally breaking of the word of wisdom, which is to say smoking cigarettes and/or drinking alcohol. Satan's control through the use of addiction is as alive and well in this area as in any other. The difference, as I view it at least, is the constant reminder of their previous church activation through church buidings, superb examples, and the media. A large number of church meetinghouses and 13 temples are found throughout Utah. The shining countenances of those who still embrace and live their church covenants must influence others to copy their examples. The unashamed media reports of church members preaching and teaching gospel principles are frequent. Finally, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints views on a variety of topics as well as church announcements are shown without censure or sneering comment. I am still surprised when on the daily television news I see reports of church activity with the Salt Lake Temple used as the backdrop. I heart thrills when I read "Mormon sections" of the area newspapers. I can be myself here without censure. I no longer need to compartmentalize my life, but can act freely without fear of causing offense or being criticized. Others from areas outside of Utah might counter they do not feel a need to censure themselves. I applaud you all for your courage and hope you would realize these are my own personal feelings and do not believe they are universally true for all people. The mountains encircle this valley on all sides. It is true that the mountain ranges run north and south, but they are not exact. They curve in and out forming safe coves as if a loving mother was extending her arms around her huge brood of children. Driving is dangerous for me here. I find it incredibly difficult not to stare to my right or left at the magnificence all around me. Mountains are enormous, breath-takingly beautiful creations! I love the way light from the sun plays in the folds. I eagerly search for which exact cloud is casting a gigantic shadow on the each rise and fall of each individual mountain. I gaze at the deep hues of greens and browns. I had to go in search for the cause of the reds that suddenly appeared this fall. As you climb higher winding back and forth lifting to ever-increasing elevations the flora changes. The aspen trees begin about 8,000 feet. Their leaves jingle in the wind as though thousands of bells grow from the branches. I sincerely desire and hope the love I feel for my new home is felt by any who read this account. If you, in turn, feel a desire to visit, you are welcome here anytime.

Shirley's Writing Class

Written 11/1/08. I have joined a writing class with the highly acclaimed LDS writer, Shirley Bahlman of Ephraim, Utah. This past summer my wonderful husband, Clyde, and I were called to help with the costumes for the Mormon Miracle Pageant. While there one evening, we met Shirley, who played an Nephite in the Christ in America scenes. We were just conversing when she mentioned she would be holding a writing class beginning in the fall. We had lived in Utah for just six months and had experienced so many wonderful mind-blowing experiences. And then, out of the blue, an opportunity of a lifetime, for me anyway, just presented itself! My secret wish I have maintained my whole life was to write and be published. Suddenly and quite unexpectantly, we met a published author who through a regular conversation stated she would be holding a class! Shirley, surely (haha), had no idea of my intense lifelong desire, but Father in Heaven knew. He put me in that particular place, behind the scenes of the Manti Pageant, at that particular time when Shirley would be there and He inspired her to mention her writing class. Later that evening when I had time to reflect on the many blessings that had come our way since our move, I began to cry. My good new friend, Julie Poulsen, noticed that I was crying and walked over, put her arm around my shoulder and quietly asked what was the matter. I responded with a twenty minute long speech about my deep and sincere gratitude for my Savior and for our Father, who gives and gives and gives even when we feel so unworthy of such gifts. I expressed to her through my tears all that I was feeling. How I loved this area so very much! How humbled I felt sitting in the shadow of the Jewel of the Church, the Manti Temple! How aware I became of the sacrifices of the pioneers who sacrificed all, including their lives, to settle this area! How the people here were wonderful examples of becoming a people of Zion! How being near my family for the pregnancy of the daughter-in-law, the birth of my first granddaughter, the preparation for and the marriage of my only daughter could not have been experienced without a move made possible by Father in Heaven! How I treasured all the precious memories of the many gatherings we've had since our move with those I love the most in this world! How my friendship with Tom O. was such a complete surprise, but had developed into one of the most important of my life! How I loved her and her family and that she shone as a bright example for me! Words tumbled out of me with such force and intensity. It all started because I knew Father in Heaven was aware of me and of my dreams and desires and was providing an opportunity for me to realize one of them through Shirley's writing class!