The road ahead... Unknown. My steps are slow... Uncertain. What lies ahead... The future. Running down the road takes faith. Fear not. Embrace the vistas along the way. Don't rest too long in one spot.
The Road
Author: Jeanne
Born in southern Idaho. Attended Brigham Young University. Worked as a transfusion service medical technologist at LDS Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah for 45 years. Married Robert & have 3 children, 7 grandchildren.
At Samhain
Samhain is a Celtic ancient ritual celebrated October 31-November 1 to bring in the dark part of winter, to recognize the fall harvest, and also to honor the dead, much like is done in the Aztec tradition of ‘Day of the Dead’. This year, instead of focusing on the trick-or-treat candy gatherings, we chose to focus on remembering those dear to us who have left us through death.
My daughter wrote a poem about this occasion, and, with her permission, I have featured it in this post inasmuch as it speaks of setting “a place at our fest table for those remembered most dear, in hoping to feel the warmth of their company once more.” We did set two places at the table for Mom and Dad, and included foods they especially liked on the menu. It was (as is) good to include them in our daily lives both in remembrance and also in knowing we can feel them near on many traditional occasions.
Our lovely Mother travels around the Great Sun as She always has She carries human kind, the mountains, the oceans, our homes We turn away from the Sun, and sense the cold vastness of space The darkness comes. Stark final harvest and bloody first slaughter Ponder a time before the progression to modern convenience Consider what you can give to those with less fortune Step into the browning, fallen crunchy leaves to share in Ancient traditions of costume, fare and lighting lanterns The barrier between this life and the next becomes liminal Set a place at our feast table for those remembered most dear In hoping to feel the warmth of their company once more
For His Grace is an Enabling Power
In our church Sunday school class we recently studied and read many chapters out of the Book of Psalms in the Old Testament. I’ve come to like Psalms because it is full of poetic, comforting phrases, like: “Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the LORD.” , “Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the LORD delivereth him out of them all.” ,or “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.”…and the list could go on and on.
I have a friend at the gym who teaches in Sunday School. She told me that she challenged the class to write their own psalm, and I thought that would be a good thing to do for this blog, especially after I read Psalms 136. You should read that first, then perhaps mine will not appear too unusual, or repetative.
Praise the Lord, He is my helper For His Grace is an enabling power. When my strength entirely fails me, His Grace is an enabling power. When my heart is weighed with troubles, His Grace is an enabling power, And I pray for comfort in my worry, His Grace is an enabling power. I will choose him as my counselor, For His Grace is an enabling power, Trust in His unfailing hands of mercy, For His Grace is an enabling power.
Recently I have been focusing on God’s enabling power, and have come to the conclusion that it’s application is beyond valuable, and have realized that is the definition of Grace. I always thought of Grace is being God’s unconditional love for us. I suppose that is still correct, but it lacks specific meaning, until it is defined as His enabling power.
Your Old Friend
Many years ago (like 1975-ish) Bob wrote a poem entitled: “My Old Friend, Pain”. He has been acquainted with orthopedic pain more than the average person, mostly from the childhood bike-riding accident where he was hit by a car, thrown 30 feet, and then run over by the same car! Because of the lasting effects, he’s had 2 hip replacements and 2 knee replacements, and, then, of his own doing broke 2 vertebrae and one ankle, which was severe enough to still cause pain 22 years later. The last hip replacement was just earlier this month, and he is now in the recovery stages. This poem was written by our daughter, Eve, and was inspired by his poem on pain:
Your old friend - pain Is back again To humble And to sharpen But if you turn your head just right You start to see reflected light The contrast, starkly defined Joy and health - the other side Without Old Pain They're undefined And lacking in their meaning You've had your share of suffering A companion through the years It's played a role Sometimes a starring part But you've kept an open heart You remain In Pain But empathetic to the plight And hopeful for the dawn You've emerged Battle - scarred, but wiser Tired, but kinder A man who understands You can't have day without the night You can't know peace without the fight Your old friend Pain is back again Your body heals Here you stand Intact A wounded, but unbroken man.
I’m Fine
I'm fine; there is nothing whatever the matter with me. I'm just as healthy as can be. I have arthritis in both my knees, And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze. My pulse is weak, and my blood is thin, But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in. I think my liver is out of whack, And a terrible pain is in my back. My hearing is poor; my sight is dim. Most everything seems to be out of trim. My days, my doctor says are few, Every week he finds something new. And the way I stagger sure is a crime. I'm likely to drop most any time. I jump like mad at the drop of a pin, But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in. I have arch supports for both my feet, Or I wouldn't be able to walk the street. Sleeplessness I have night after night, And in the morning, I'm a perfect fright. My memory is failing. My sight is dim, But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in. The moral is: As this tale unfolds, That for you and I who are growing old, T'is better to say, "I'm fine", with a grin, Cause it surely will help the shape you are in. I found this poem (untitled), handwritten in an old file among scraps of geneological tidbits, from Bob's family. It's not his handwriting, so I won't attribute it to him. I have no idea who wrote it and probably should not be posting it. If anyone knows the author, please let me know. Perhaps his Grandma Davis wrote it. She was very expressive in writing. Nevertheless, I like it because it fits with events of the past few weeks. Bob was finally able to get a new hip replacement a few days ago. Everyone who works at a hospital looks just barely old enough to be in high school. All of them. His surgeon must have begun medical school in kindergarten!. As they recorded the necessary information, they were amazed that we had been married almost 48 years. And I reflected on our present physical and mental health--comparing it to our early years of marriage--and reluctantly admitted that we had changed. A lot. Bob's marathons have been traded in for shuffles to the car. My foot was in such bad shape the night before his surgery, that I wondered how I'd get him up to surgery. Bob's legs and ankle are generously marked from previous surgery scars. We use grabbers and canes. And I wondered what happened to all those decades? Wasn't it just last spring when we planned our wedding? Isn't getting old for our aunts and uncles and grandparents? -- but never for us!
Another View
No poem today. Just a few thoughts about terrible things that happen. The kind of things that cause us fear and worry and hopelessness. Ukraine and the Russian invasion. We read about things everyday: storms, earthquakes, shootings, Covid. If you wanted to get a super-dose, read Matthew chapter 25. It contains the prophecies of Jesus concerning our time just before the second coming. Taken seriously, it’s pretty scary stuff, right? And yet, Jesus referred to the day of his coming and GREAT and dreadful.
So, I’m thinking about the GREAT part of it. I was reading in the Book of Mormon recently where the account is written of a prophet, Samuel, who prophecied to the people in ancient America about 5 BC and how they would know when Christ would be born in Bethlehem. He spoke of astrological signs and about a day when it would remain light as mid-day when the sun went down, and when the sun came up again, that would be the day of his birth. So, 3 days of light. 5 years later that did happen.
in 3 Nephi chapter 5, verse 2 it reads, “And they knew that it must be expedient that Christ had come, because of the many signs which had been given, according to the words of the prophets; and because of the things which had come to pass already they knew that it must needs be that all things should come to pass according to that which had been spoken.”
So, this is how modern day disasters, etc. can build our faith. We have seen ample prophecies fulfilled, and that, in and of itself, can be evidence that God is a man of his word, and we can rely (or have faith) in the promises (and blessings) yet to come.
What do you think? Does this offer you any solace or hope? How do you deal with fearful events? Please state your views in a comment.
The Crucible
It’s been a traumatic 3 months, starting with my son last November, who developed a painful jaw infection accompanied by careless medical care, resulting in emergency room visits and hospitalizations for infection, onset of diabetes from pancreatitis and pending kidney failure. Over-use of steroids complicated his recovery and ability to fight the infection. those were some very tense and worrysome days, lasting into the new year. It required a kind of patience I didn’t know existed. But, we drew together as a family and prayers became a source of strength and healing.
I thought the new year was a harbinger of health, but then my 16 year old grand daughter presented with painful hands that quickly lost their use. Swelling started and medical tests showed nothing.
Then, last Monday, our 18 year old grandson (all of these are in the same family) was rushed to the emergency room with gut pain and jaundice. For the next week he underwent diagnostic ultrasound and endoscopy with gall bladder removal on Wednesday, followed by another procedure to remove more gall stones in the ducts, and finally being released from the hospital on Friday.
We all breathed a sigh of relief, only to be awakened late Friday night with news that paramedics were called in response to my grand daughter’s inability to breathe…very scary…thought to be a panic attack.
So much for the harbinger of health. More like a trip to troubles!
If I were gold would I think a crucible to be mean? A dark tomb with painful heat that reaches to the soul, and burns. Those hours I would never choose. No. Look at me-- all cluttered. I've gathered much along the way. I carry to much baggage. I want to let it go. I pray with fervor to find a way. The crucible! How ironic. The very thing that I abhor Is now my darkened prison. The unwanted firey trial Seems longer than it is. Daylight finally shoots it's glorious beam Upon my soul. My soul--it's free. The baggage gone Consumed within the fire. In weightless glory I rise And leave this crucible behind For now. Purified, changed, whole, free. I'm finally Me.
The Enemy Within
A few weeks ago, the snow came unexpectedly deep. Tree limbs all around the community crashed onto whatever was below them. We were no exception. A large limb fell onto our garden/picnic area, but the one of most concern was a neighbor’s huge branch that toppled onto our fence and down into our back yard, blocking the way to the garage.
Last October in the general conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, President Nelson commented on the progress of the remodeling of the Salt Lake Temple, and said, “As I have watched workers dig out old tree roots, plumbing, wiring, and a leaky fountain, I have thought about the need for each of us to remove, with the Savior’s help, the old debris in our lives.”
I can relate to that with the recent branches that fell. They are not easy to remove. It has to be done one piece at a time moving from what you can reach, eventually getting to all of it. It is possible. I hope all the clutter and un-organization and debris in my office can likewise be removed and/or organized. But I wonder about myself. Is there debris inside me that clutters my way to doing things better? Bob wrote a poem about that:
As we search and meditate upon our inner self, We strive to understand ourselves, and where to find true wealth. What kind of thoughts have taken seed within our mind and heart? Do our souls, like any garden, need us to do our part? Each thought is like a seed. We can plant or throw away. Good and bad seeds grow more strong through every passing day. Lord, may we grow in strength to learn and choose what's right. Through more faith and obedience, we can walk within God's light.
The following is a link to the 4.5 minute message of President Nelson:
One more day, and it goes away…
I am very aware that it's late January and my Christmas tree is still with me In all it's splendid glory A high dose of nostalgia The daunting display of A myriad of memories. The bold bubble lights lend a warmth and a life to the whole scene... And the Tree becomes a Tapestry of Life No wonder that a few tears escape As I lovingly pack each ornament In it's tomb-like box One more day, and it goes away!
Yes, I’m one of those who puts Christmas decorations up before Thanksgiving, and reluctantly removes them in late January, only because the rearranged furniture finally gets to me. I have 2 chairs, a light and an elephant table in my studio, crowding an already cluttered room. And we all know that January is when we decide to un-clutter.
I painted the picture below in memory of a tender tree-trimming encounter. When my Grand daughter was 6, she wanted to help decorate the tree. First, you have to understand about my tree. It’s called the elephant tree because most of the ornament are elephants, and most of those given to me by my sister. She’s made it a hobby when she travels to look for them, and then sends me her purchases on my birthday in November. And she is generous! I’m sure that if I made a count of all of them, it would exceed 300! It is an art to be able to place them on the tree and to be able to see them all, and to have it look pleasant. I don’t just hang them anywhere. The tree is on a rotating base so that it slowly turns to display all sides of the tree. So, I grit my teeth and agree to let the kids help, knowing that I’ll be re-arranging ornaments for some time, and they eagerly and tenderly do their best, but when my grand daughter actually removed a large elephant which I had placed in just the right spot, I was quick to swoop to the rescue and replace it. BUT, she insisted, and walked over to a branch where I had placed a bird’s nest containing 2 small elephants. She said that the mother should be by the babies, and it stopped me in my tracks! Her profound comment was absolutely correct, and I was WRONG. To this day, the Mommy overlooks her beloved babies in their nest, just like the year before, and the one before that, and will be until there is no more elephant tree.
You know, kids can be very wise. They can be right when we are wrong. They can melt our hearts with their innocent and pure love. Anyone with children knows that. And doubly so with grandparents because we are not caught up in the routine of caring for them all the time, day after day. We are not so exhausted! (At least, most of us). If they do nothing else, they pull us into their world of wonder and show us things we’ve forgotten, or never noticed in the first place. What a priceless gift they are.
A Holiday Wish
I think January is the worst month ever! In December we make super-human efforts to be kind, charitable, neighborly, friendly, generous to everyone. I have to admit that, as exhausting as it all is, that Christmas feeling gets in your heart, and you feel like an excited kid again…looking forward to the big snow, building a snowman, shoveling walks, making cookies, shopping, wrapping presents, decorating the tree, hot chocolate, sledding and coming home and eating cookies and hot chocolate, again. And then, getting out of school for at least 10 days..sleeping in, playing games, snacking, decorating, snacking, admiring the atmosphere lovingly created in your home, and snacking. Family gathers, huge meals are cooked and eaten, presents that took forever to wrap are unwrapped at light speed. Christmas really is magical if you just let it be.
And then New Year’s Day. We always took the aged tree out to sit on the gutter, and I would always come to the harsh fact that I had done none of my homework assignments. Not one. Nada. And school would start tomorrow. No more sleeping in. No more cookies. I never liked January. Never. I still don’t. It’s cold, and it’s a long time until spring.
So, on that note, I would like to post a poem written by my daughter, Eve. Posted because I think it gets us through January in style!
To health and happiness the whole year through for many joyful reunions and the promise of new beginnings each moment is a gift the privilege of existence inviting us to begin again and again to exchange our burdens for gratitude if only for moments at a time we're here we are alive that is enough you are enough just as you are even your tattered, broken, and tired parts as deserving of grace as anything in creation the essence of humanness you so bravely posses what can be braver than to face our own impermanence and fragility and to keep your head held high and eyes on the horizon tomorrow is promised to no one but this moment, right now, is yours I hope you live without fear in your heart and treat everyone with compassion including yourself we're traversing these crazy reads together pilgrims--seeking freedom, purpose, and home the greatest gift of all is presence I hope you give it freely and often I hope the wonder and beauty of the world never ceases to bring you to your knees
