Into the Wild...

It's a windy, rainy day in Northern California, and instead of cuddling up by the fire with a good book, I've made plans that will take me right out there in the middle of all this cold and blustery weather. Yep, I have a date with a termite inspector, a rendezvous with a realtor, an engagement with a friend, an appointment with a doctor, and a meeting with a collaborator. All I need now is an assignation with a secret admirer! (Thankfully, I don't have any, because I couldn't possibly fit one into my busy schedule...)

To tell the truth, I'm not exactly excited to take to the freeways on a day like this. Does the word hydroplaning mean anything to you? Not one of my favorite pastimes, I must admit, and with sheets of water underfoot (undertire?), definitely not out of the realm of possibility.

Oh dear, I've done it again. What I mean to say is...Ain't never gonna happen, Mom. I've got it covered. No hydroplaning here. Just skilled, cautious, event-free driving, okay? Okay.

Whew.

The thing is––I love wet, wild, and wintry days like these. They give me something I can use in my old age: a natural high. Or at least, a buzz. (Can you tell I'm a teen of the 60's?)

Natural high or buzz, I'll take it. And do you think I could get a temporary reprieve from menopause, too? Because I've got one heck of a lot to get done today, and a little more estrogen would come in mighty handy.

;)

The Whole World in His Hands

Don't know if this pic was doctored by photoshop or not (probably yes), but I like the concept. I feel it, too. What's more, in light of all that's going on in Haiti, I find it immensely comforting.

Knowing that the Lord is in charge––that, to coin a popular gospel song, "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands"––is a necessary element in my life, and I am far from alone in this need. When dealing with loss of any kind, bringing God into the equation suddenly makes enduring and even coming out the other end seem possible. On Martin Luther King Day, it feels appropriate to remember that, without his belief in a loving God whose interest and support included every one of His children, Dr. King might never have given the famous "I Have a Dream" speech. In fact, without the inspiration that comes from faith in a Supreme Being, Dr. King might never have had a dream at all.

Loss is a heartbreaking fact of life on the earth, whether it is loss of life, loss of liberty, or loss of a dream. We all struggle with it, but most of us do come out the other side, and God has a hand in that. More than a hand.

I attended a funeral on Saturday for the mother of one of my husband's bishopric counselors. She was the beloved matriarch of a large, wonderful family; and it was a privilege to hear the beautiful music, memories, and testimonies shared. This is a family that knows, collectively and individually, that the world...and their world...is in the Lord's hands. Their loss is great, but their faith is greater.

My prayer is that the people of Haiti will find the faith and strength to overcome the kind of loss few of us can even imagine. God does hold the whole world in His hands, and now the whole world needs to BE His hands as we reach out to help these Haitian brothers and sisters who are suffering so deeply.

I hope you will give yourself a gift and read this post from a Haitian missionary's blog. I also hope, if you haven't already, that you will consider making a donation to a reputable charity in behalf of the earthquake survivors. In the event you are unaware of a charity that gives 100% of monies collected directly to aiding those in need, feel free to make a donation through my church, where all administrative fees are paid out of a separate fund. (You might want to read this article about a group of LDS doctors who left over the weekend with two plane loads of supplies to minister directly to the people in Port-au-Prince.) Another good option is Partners in Health, mentioned by many of the Haitian blogs, which seems like a good advertisement for their honesty. Food for the Poor is probably a safe bet, too; as I understand it, this is the organization that is helping to distribute the emergency hygiene kits and food donations recently sent by the LDS Church.

“Christ has no body now on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which Christ’s compassion is to look out to the earth; yours are the feet by which He is to go about doing good, and yours are the hands by which He is to bless us now” Saint Teresa of Avila (1515-1582).

A Glimmer of Hope Becomes Perfect Brightness

A Glimmer of Hope - Abstract Design

by Exper Giovanni Rubaltelli

One of my closest friends just graduated from college with a BA in English. This determined woman has five grown children, a chronic illness, and during the course of her college career (most of which was accomplished with children still at home), she underwent intense chemotherapy for a particularly nasty form of breast cancer. More recently, she was diagnosed with cancer of the eye. Despite this and other adversities, diploma in hand, she is now embarking upon her master's degree.

How I admire my friend's courage and resilience! Every time clouds of darkness enter her life, threatening to extinguish the light that burns so brightly within her, she refuses to be vanquished. Through faith and prayer, she continues to press forward. As one of her close confidants, I am aware that not once has she allowed herself to let go of that little light of hope in her heart. Occasionally it has dimmed for a period of time, but never has it stopped burning.

Observing this great woman, and thinking about what she has accomplished in the past several years, I see more clearly how even a glimmer of hope can be turned into a perfect brightness of hope. "I am able to make you holy, " the Lord promises (D&C 60:7), and we can be the recipients of that promise by turning to Him in all things, making Him the foundation of our lives. When things don't go our way, we can remind ourselves that life is a period of experience, growth, and testing. We can be patient with the Lord and with ourselves as we go through the ups and downs of life. "In your patience possess ye your souls," we are told (Luke 20:19), and becoming the people God wants and needs us to be does take patience. This patience comes by way of faith in God and His plan...accompanied by the enduring hope that such faith makes possible.

I am reminded of the story of the Velveteen Rabbit:

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all" (Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit).

My friend is one of the most Real people I know. One day, I feel sure that she will achieve her goal and become a college English teacher, but already she has become much more than that to me. She is an "example of the believers" (1 Timothy 4:12), a living manifestation for me and others of pressing forward against all odds, with a perfect brightness of hope.

"Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men" (2 Nephi 31:20).

Thanks, M. You are one of my heroes.

=)

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

(This is your brain on no sleep)

*CAUTION: VENTING ZONE*

Aaaaaauuuugh. I am SO sleepy! Wide awake as can be, but sleepy as all get-out.

This sad but salient truth provides the perfect linguistic opportunity for an oxymoron, right? Alert drowsiness. Scratch that. It's more like drowsy wakefulness. And I'm not liking it. But as a 57-year-old woman, that seems to be my permanent state these days. In fact, my idea of bliss at this point would be to turn in at midnight, snooze until 7:00 AM, and wake up feeling...refreshed. That's right; seven hours of straight sleep is looking like the holy grail to me! With a little bit of Christmas morning thrown in for good measure.

Don't get me wrong, I pretty much conk out when my head hits the pillow. And I sleep soundly enough, too. But I wake up before I'm ready. Prematurely. With the birds. When it's still dark.

Yep, my eyes POP right open, for no apparent reason, like a baby when you put him in his crib. The old body is still immersed in sweet slumber, yet my menopausal brain (or what's left of it) is suddenly up and running. Not the whole brain, mind you...not the thinking part, anyway...but the brain stem part that controls basic functions and various reflexes. A zombie is born.

Okay, my largely female readers, I ask you now: Where is the justice in this? Admittedly, my husband is too busy to get enough sleep either, but here's the thing: He could if he felt the need. At any given time, he is able to tell himself...Self, we're going to sleep in tomorrow. He can then choose not to set the alarm (a device which I no longer even need), close the drapes, and stay in dreamland till at least 8:30. Sometimes, he even makes it till 9:00! I know, because I observe him. Through my wide-open, bleary (and yes, slightly covetous) eyes.

So, this is what I'm reduced to, my friends: unadulterated envy of my poor. overworked husband's sleep patterns. Not that I would ever wish the curse of pre-dawn awakening, with its legacy of drowsy wakefulness, on him or anyone else. I don't. This mid-life mama is all about the free exercise of slumber rights for every citizen of the United States. Free sleep for all, I say! Who needs tea parties when you can get on board with Sue's catch some z's parties? (Sorry red states, but hey, I just want a little bit of that sleep mojo comin' my way.)

And thanks, my fellow Americans, for your continued support.

;)

Sunny Skies : Lows and Highs

The sun is playing hide' n seek

in my village today.

It peeks out for a moment

then jumps back inside to play.

No matter what

your point of view,

in this place,

beauty waits for you.

Around each bend

and up each hill,

beyond each door

and window sill,

down every street

and through each lane,

no search for splendor

goes in vain.

Wait! That's my street.

I'm home again.

=)

Today, my thoughts and prayers are with three million people who make their collective home in Port au Prince, Haiti. Like me, they live under mostly sunny skies, but their lives have been devastated by an earthquake of catastrophic proportion. As one who lives in earthquake country myself, my heart goes out to these people, and I'm grateful to know that our country, my own church, and so many others are already reaching out to help them. Donations can be made through the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints humanitarian fund. I am also aware, through a Christian art blog I follow, of a man who has adopted two children in Haiti and has close ties there. He has spearheaded a Help Haiti t-shirt fundraising effort. I am on my way to buy that t-shirt...

If you think you are too small to be effective,

you have never been in bed with a mosquito. ~Betty Reese

If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one. ~Mother Teresa

Kalai On My Mind

How many of you are aware of Kalai? When it comes to amazing musicians, this guy is one I am listening to more and more. He describes himself as "urban vintage" and says that his main influences were James Taylor (my all-time favorite) and the Beatles. My observation is that there's a lot of very cool jazz going on with him, too.

Man, can this guy sing. His range is incredible and may be explained by his admission that he always used to try to sing every part in a quartet. You've probably heard him on my playlist, but I wanted to give you a more personal glimpse here. This particular video is a private performance. (When he stops in the middle, hang with it. He does finish the song...And it's worth waiting for, too.)

Besides his new release, Crows Feet (Acoustacism is the CD that introduced him to me), Kalai also sings religious/spiritual music. His version of I Need Thee Every Hour (from A Pauper's Hymnal) is unequaled. An interesting note is that he was born in Hawaii, raised in Alaska, managed to become a musical prodigy despite a rocky home life, and is now a convert to the LDS church. (His church membership has no bearing on my enjoyment of his music, by the way. I had him on my iPod for a year before my son told me he was Mormon.)

Enjoy! You may need to turn up the volume on your computer a bit...And don't forget to turn down my playlist in the right sidebar. (Today, by the way, ye olde playlist will be featuring yet another song by Kalai, so you can check that one out, too!)

In Which a Gift from the Past Is a Treasure

This morning I opened my closet and got down all of the dusty, old journals I've filled up over the years. My intention was to skim over their fading pages and decide whether any of these collections of messy scribbles should get the old heave-ho.

As it happens, I got stranded on the first one. Or maybe I should say "bogged down" in the first one. Sheesh! That little girl was hard on herself!! (Well, she wasn't a little girl actually...She was 29 years old at the time...but I have to tell you that I barely recognized her.) And that surprises me.

I should fill in the blanks by saying that the journal in question chronicles the year 1981, when my children's ages were 5, 3, and 1. Little did I know I would become pregnant again at summer's end. I'd planned to postpone pregnancy indefinitely because of my baby's severe asthma, which (in those days of way less effective medication) took a great deal of time and attention to manage. Some of the entries remind me that I had a pretty hard row to hoe.

Anyway, here's the thing. Is it a universal tendency to look back on early parenting years with rose-colored glasses, or am I the only one who apparently doesn't remember with any degree of accuracy how it felt to be struggling with a husband who was working so hard he could hardly ever get home, kids who were sick at least half of the time (and getting into mischief or fights the other half), and seemingly endless cleaning and laundry that always needed doing? Because when I look back on those early years, my overriding recollection is of good times, good friends, good children, and good feeling. (Make no mistake, there were a lot of good things.)

Today, though, I'm looking at written reminders of days that didn't feel so good. I'm reading the words of a young mother who sometimes felt inadequate, unsuccessful, and discouraged. Many entries consist of a fairly harrowing account of the day's events, followed by a play-by-play analysis of what went wrong, a summary of woe-is-me and/or shame-on-me feelings about what went wrong, and a resolution to do and be better. Oh, don't get me wrong, a note of joy does creep in here and there (and a LOT of humor), but the fact remains that mommysue wasn't always having as much fun as grannysue remembers.

Of course, I realize that I was probably using my journal at that point mostly to vent. Let's face it––on the good days, I probably had way less need to write anything down––but it's still true that I'm a little more out of touch with the me that inhabited those early years than I thought. To tell the truth, I find myself wanting to reach back and put my arm around that determined young woman who was trying so hard and wanting so much to be "perfect" for her little family.

All I can say is this: It's a good thing reality set in, or the teenage years would have killed me! (Actually, the teenage years probably had a lot to do with bringing me from there to here while providing what I now recognize as no small degree of growth.) I learned to love more unconditionally, to let go of control that I never had anyway, and to be okay with not always feeling okay. (I think it was a case of be gentle with myself or perish.) I learned humility, respect for limitations, and acceptance. I'm STILL learning them. (If Neal A. Maxwell is right and the Lord "tutors" us, I am a student that takes a LOT of tutoring.)

However, be that as it may, this is my observation for today: I have grown! Exponentially. And you know what? It's heartening, reassuring, and even inspiring. What's more, it makes me realize that these journals are not just for those family members who come after me...They're for today's me coming after yesterday's me. At those times when I feel my personal growth has plateaued for so long that I may never reach the peak of any mountain in life, reading an old journal like this can remind me that it's the long haul that counts, growth-wise, and that leveling off or even dropping off a little here and there does not a failed growth curve make.

The thing is, I am a different woman today than I was then. A far calmer, kinder (to myself and others), and wiser one. And you know what? I like having evidence of that!

So think about getting those journals out, my friends. (And yes, the personal ones do differ from the blog ones...because they are like having an intimate conversation with yourself.) No matter how open and honest you tend to be, having an audience skews things a bit, and you may not record as clear a picture of your spirit for posterity (and yourself, of course!) as I was able to see today. That's why I'm grateful that, back in 1981 on a few dark and dreary evenings, I took the time to let it all hang out...in writing.

And you know what? In 2010, mommysue has been able to reach through the years and give grannysue a pretty neat gift.

How cool is that?

=)

Sunday Stagefright = Delusions of Grandeur

Yesterday I taught the first lesson in Relief Society out of the Gospel Principles manual. When I heard that we would be teaching from this book for two years, I was delighted. Getting back to basics always seems like a good thing to me, and I have enjoyed consulting the book myself over the years to clarify or add to my knowledge of doctrine. In fact, when my son-in-law was baptized a member of the Church, the first gift I gave him was a copy of Gospel Principles.

That is why I was so surprised when this lesson turned out to be the hardest one I've ever prepared. Ever. Oh, not because it was so short I could have read the entire thing aloud in less than five minutes, though that did make for a lot more research and organization on my part. (Previous manuals have been loaded with information to the extent that I would generally spend the whole month trying to pare the lesson down rather than enlarge upon it.) But I'm fine with research and organization, so that really wasn't the issue. What evoked my anxiety in getting this lesson ready for primetime was the relative lack of guidance, coupled with the mind boggling significance of the subject matter. What's worse, I was presenting the first lesson, and if I didn't do it justice, my Relief Society sisters might start the year out feeling less than enthused about the new course.

As sometimes happens, I had delusions of grandeur. The lesson went wonderfully, and I think it's fair to say that I had very little to do with that. The spirit in the room was strong and loving as we discussed a subject dear to every woman in attendance...Our Heavenly Father. In fact, my reason for being so worried escapes me now, or at least it did until I got home and made the mistake of reading the title of my next lesson: The Creation. It was just as short as yesterday's, and I'm feeling anxious all over again!

But all will be well. Why? Because it's not about me. With time and experience, I'll learn to trust that my efforts will be magnified and have faith that, if I do my part, the Lord will do His. Hearts cannot help but be touched as we explore the foundational beliefs and principles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And again, I will probably have very little to do with it.

The following quote by Brigham Young is one that I added to the lesson. He said these sweet words to a group of Sunday School children assembled in the tabernacle on July 24, 1877: "Our Father in Heaven has eyes to see, and His eyes are upon all the works of His hands; He has ears, which are open to hear the prayers of little children, and He loves you, and knows you, for you are all HIs offspring; and His knowledge of you is so minute that, to use the language of the ancients, not a hair of your head falls to the ground unnoticed. This is the kind of God we worship."

I closed, as is my custom, with a poem:

A Daughter’s Prayer

©2010 Susan Noyes Anderson

Some of Thy children think of Thee

in terms that make no sense to me:

“…as large as life itself, yet small,

with no body or parts at all.”

Others claim Thou art as naught––

a figment of man’s fear and thought,

a panacea for the weak

to conjure up the peace they seek.

But I have felt within my soul

Thy perfect love, and I am whole

because Thou callest me by name

and whisperest of whence I came.

In Christ, and by the Spirit’s power,

Thou livest with me every hour.

This gift, dear Father, helps me see

Thy glory and my destiny:

To fill the measure of my birth,

To walk with honor on the earth,

To find my place eternally,

As Thy child, to become like Thee.

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life" (John 3:16).

As Elder Holland said in his beautiful conference talk, The Grandeur of God, "How easy to love someone who so singularly loves you!"

You Can't Keep a Good American Down

When a security breach at the Newark Liberty International Airport required passengers to wait in six-hour lines to undergo a second wave of security checks, the natives were definitely getting restless. Kids were crying and cranky, and most of their parents were feeling none-too-cordial either. But all that changed when musician Josh Wilson decided to bloom where he was planted by performing an impromptu sing-along.

Don't you love this demonstration of good old yankee spirit (to say nothing of ingenuity, humanity, and even some refreshing unity) in action? I do!

(Be sure to click off my playlist in the right sidebar before playing.)

Winter Has a Beauty All Its Own...

Winter has a beauty all its own,

a framework plying men to look within

and find the quiet hush in every soul...

that peaceful place where new growth must begin.

Winter Has a Beauty, ©2010 Susan Noyes Anderson

Sorry for waxing poetic two days in a row, but that's what January does to me.

I can think of nothing better right now than settling in with a woodspice-scented candle, a cup of herb tea, my favorite gliding but not smudgy pen, and a cozy-cool journal. Oh, and don't forget to wrap me up in one of the soft-as-snowdrifts throws I gave my children for Christmas. (I like the mink. No worries, PETA...just a color name.)

It's all about setting the mood...and January definitely has that covered.

So does Judy Collins.

=)