The ending words of this famous poem entitled,
“On the Wings of a Prayer,” by Helen Steiner Rice, remind me of the summer I spent working in Bear Lake, Utah, where I experienced my own little miracle on the wings of my mother’s prayer.
The two summers following my 16th birthday were spent working at “Ideal Beach Family Resort,” in Bear Lake, Utah, where my family owned a nearby summer cabin. The first summer I worked at the penny candy and ice cream counter, occasionally filling in at the reservation desk. It was a dream job for a penny candy lover and ice cream fan. I really enjoyed talking to the beach vacationers, especially the young guys who would flock to the lodge lounge to hang out. I quickly became an expert at soft twist ice-cream cones, a combination of chocolate and vanilla ice cream. I could make a perfect swirl!
The second summer I worked in Bear Lake, however, marks a space and time I will never forget. It was the summer of my prayer miracle! I was working in the resort’s cafe as a waitress, wearing a red and white, tightly waisted candy stripper uniform, which I loved. Every morning I’d ride our family’s 15-mile-per-hour motor scooter three miles to the small Laketown, Utah gas station. What a thrill for a girl without personal wheels of her own! (In reality I could have run the distance faster if I’d wanted to arrive smelling like sweat.)
After my morning excursion I would park my little scooter at the local gas station and catch a ride to the other side of the lake with the cafe cook, an older woman that lived in Laketown. I loved working with Elma, who was hardworking, witty and efficient. She said I was a good worker and her kind words gave me confidence in my ability.
The cafe was located on the beach, with large picture windows overlooking the crystal blue Bear Lake water. Often when we’d arrive for work there would be couples sleeping together on the beach in the same sleeping bag. Fingers pointed and eyebrows raised at that shocking display in the very conservative, highly religious town. It was disgraceful behavior in that corner of the planet, even for the 60s!
That summer turned out to be a nightmare for my mother, as she was torn between wanting to be in Bear Lake with me and her responsibilities in Salt Lake City, Utah, where we lived during the school year. I was often at the cabin with just my dad, an 18-hour a day, hardworking wintertime father, who made donuts for the school snack bars during the school year. His school teacher’s hours allowed us to spend summers at the cabin, where he enjoyed fishing nearly every day. Fishing took him from the far corners of Bear Lake’s deep waters to Wyoming's finest fishing holes. So occasionally I found myself alone at our cabin, although I don’t remember feeling scared or apprehensive at our quiet lake-shore home. The lake wasn’t crowded in those days and there was a kind, old couple that lived next door in a pink house. Unlike the summer vacationers, they lived there all year long, keeping a beautiful garden, an unusual addition in the middle of summer cabins and trailer homes.
Previously to that particular summer I’d had bouts of childhood asthma, usually triggered by pollen from outdoor bushes and weeds. I’d also survived the typical childhood diseases of the day, such as, chicken pox, mumps, and two kinds of measles. However those illnesses were nothing in comparison to the terrible pneumonia I got that summer in Bear Lake. I arrived home one night after work to find the cabin locked and my dad still fishing. My mother, who had taken my two younger siblings home with her to Salt Lake, was delayed in getting back to the lake because my baby sister, Loni, was ill. Dad had forgotten to leave me a key before he’d left that morning and the cabin’s metal doors and strong windows were locked up tight. I waited for my fathers return on the outdoor patio furniture. Unfortunately, soon I was waiting in a thunder and rainstorm, chilled and freezing by the time Dad arrived.
The next day at work I began to feel lightheaded and shaky, as my chest began to tighten, making it difficult to breath. The cafe was never very crowded on weekdays, so I was the only waitress working that day. I remember grabbing the coffee pot to pour a 10¢ cup of coffee for my one and only gentleman customer. Suddenly I began shaking so intensely that I dropped the entire pot as I pulled it from the coffee machine! Hot coffee and broken glass went everywhere, but somehow missed my startled customer. (Later, after I’d recovered and returned to work, I discovered he’d left me a dollar sympathy tip for a 10¢ cup of coffee! It was a large tip for the times and unheard of at the beach!)
After dropping the coffee pot, I remember nothing but calling my mother from the front desk. She could tell by my voice that something was wrong. She said,
“Linda? You are sick!” I was really ill and I started to cry. Mom told me to get Grandpa Pulsipher, the resort owner’s father, to give me a ride to our cabin. She instructed me to get into bed and she’d find some way of getting me home.
At the time my Aunt Claudia and her young family were living with us in Salt Lake City, while they were building a new home. My mom had returned home after hosting a Bear Lake party for their Salt Lake neighbors. The weather in Bear Lake was somewhat unpredictable and it had suddenly turned cold while my younger siblings were still in bathing suits. Loni, showed early signs of pneumonia and my mother wanted to get her home to our family doctor. The only medical facility close to Bear Lake was in Logan, where there was a very small hospital. I needed to stay and work, so mom had left my dad to handle everything in Bear Lake. Although my father was an early bird riser, to insure the best catch of the day, he was usually home early in the evening. However, fishing was as unpredictable as the weather, depending on how the fish were biting, and Dad could never be reached. How my mother would have cherished the cell phones we have available to us today!
My mother didn’t know what to do, as she had no way to contact my dad, who was oblivious to her predicament. My mother has always been a very prayerful person and so she quickly said a prayer under her breath, enlisting the Lord for help and inspiration. Suddenly she remembered that my Uncle Burns, her sister Maurine’s husband, had been taking flying lessons and Maurine had mentioned that he’d just received his pilot’s license! Mom called Uncle Burns, asking him to fly her to Bear Lake to get me. Uncle Burns had very little solo flying experience and the airplanes he flew were very small, but reluctantly he agreed to do it. Mom arranged to meet him at the airport. Mother’s other problem was leaving my little sister, who was also very ill. My Aunt Claudia was frightened about being left with a child that was so sick, but my mother assured her she’d be back before her baby aspirin wore off, secretly hoping for a miracle that would let her reach me and bring me home in time.
Mom met Uncle Burns at the airport and the adventure began. It is important to note that there were three distinct miracles that occurred from this point on. The first miracle occurred after they’d been flying for a while. They had difficulty reading the map and discovered they were lost. Suddenly the gas needle began acting strangely and Uncle Burns couldn’t contact the airport on the radio. Afraid he might not have enough gas to reach Bear Lake and get back home again, Uncle Burns considered turning back. My mother knew nothing about airplanes or even how to read maps, but she refused to give up. She was determined to get to me. She said,
“Burns, please say a prayer and bless the needle!”Uncle Burns looked at Mom a little strangely, but he could see she was desperate so he said a prayer and blessed the needle. As mom bowed her head, she noticed the map he’d been looking at was on the floor in front of her. She picked it up and observed that one area of the plot said “static” and she asked Uncle Burns what it meant. Suddenly comprehending the undetected information staring him in the face, he said it meant that if they were over that area there could be problems with the needle! He started working with the radio again and miraculously began to pick up reception from another station. Just then my mother looked out the window and recognized Bear River.
“Look Burns, there’s Bear River and you can follow it,” she said. They followed the river and soon recognized the highway that would take them right to our cabin.
At this point in time, they knew they would have to land in the empty field at the end of the lake and without a car they would have to walk all the way to the cabin, at least three miles. Time was running short. My mother needed to get back home before my little sister woke up again, so walking was a concern. Here is where miracle number two occurred. Just as they landed and got out of the plane, a car came along the normally lonely, untraveled road. It was one of my parent’s neighbors from Salt Lake! He stopped for Mom and Uncle Burns and gave them a ride to our cabin. Mom invited the neighbor in for watermelon, leftover from their previous party and he offered to wait and give them a ride back to the airplane.
I was unaware of any of these advents or even that my mom was coming in an airplane. Here is where miracle number three took place. Mom walked into the cabin and called out to me. Aroused from my sick and dreamlike state, I said,
“Oh Mom! I had a dream! I dreamed you got Uncle Burns to fly you here and get me!”We had never talked about Uncle Burns learning to fly or getting his pilot's license, so there was no way I could have known about that remote possibility. I had never even been in an airplane. Many times in my life, since that day, I have been blessed with dreams that can only be explained as visionary. Now I know that heaven’s angelic messengers have chosen this way to communicate with me and ease my fears. I am a visual person, so perhaps this is how I understand best.
My mother, who lost her own mother early in her young married life, learned to rely on the Lord. Her undying faith and a gentle prayer sent heavenly messengers to help us when all hope was wavering. I know the power of prayer and the miracles that occurred that day on the wings of my mother’s prayer. My angels continue to watch over me today, sending reassurance when comfort is needed.
I love this time of year with all of the over sentimental, heartfelt, television Christmas movies. I can’t help myself and I watch them every year, no matter how cheesy or predictable. Of course nothing beats the classics, passed down from generation to generation, like “Miracle on 34th Street” (“Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to.”), “It’s a Wonderful Life” (“Teacher says, every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings!”), or “A Christmas Carol” (“God bless us, everyone!”), the three enduring movies from which all other Christmas plots derive! They are timeless, their messages universal, regardless of age. However no Christmas is complete without the traditional viewing of the 1983 classic, “A Christmas Story,” one of my all time favorites! The story depicts a little boy’s memories of his most unforgettable Christmas. It's Christmas time and there's only one thing on Ralphie Parker's Christmas list: a Red Ryder Carbine Action 200-Shot, Range Model Air Rifle! Many obstacles stand in the way of Ralphie’s dream, mainly the adults in his life who keep telling him, “You'll shoot your eye out, kid!” 
Nobody knows the “truffles” I've seen! It has been said that, “Man cannot live on chocolate alone, but woman sure can!” I’d have to agree. As a teenager I loved The Smothers Brothers, the lanky, crew cut, fresh-faced singing siblings. There was Tommy, the older, ‘dumber’ brother and Dicky, the annoyed straight man of the famous comedic duet. They would launch into a well-known folk song, only to have Tommy ruin it, much to the delight of the audience and the consternation of Dick. Song after song would come to an untimely demise by the sometimes innocent, sometimes gleefully naughty, antics of Tom. Every television variety show would come to a climactic war of words between the brothers, with Dick pointing out all of Tom’s flaws, shouting him down until Tommy would burst forth with, “Oh yeah? Well, Mom always liked you best,” bringing fits of laughter from the audience.
I have gradually been reading a book titled, “Healing Your Family History: 5 Steps to Break Free of Destructive Patterns,” by Rebecca Linder Hintz, and slowly contemplating it’s message content. The forward of this book is written by Stephen R. Covey, author of the best selling book, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. “Healing Your Family History” comes highly recommended by Stephen Covey along with music celebrity, Marie Osmond and renowned MD, Christiane Northrup. I’m a fan of this book as well, having discovered some interesting patterns within my own family history.
We all want to love and to be loved, an innate instinct most of us are born with. Love is one of mankind’s strongest desires. Humans search for it longingly, end up in therapy when it is denied, and even murder one another for it, as is evident on the evening news. Love and hate are powerful words and are often used simultaneously, referencing the same object of affection. However all love is not requited. Sometimes those we love do not love us in return and those who seek our attention go unnoticed and rejected.
“In a world where everyone seems to be larger and louder than yourself, it is very comforting to have a small, quiet companion.” ~ Peter Gray
A man walking along a California beach was deep in prayer. Suddenly the sky clouded above his head and in a booming voice the Lord said, “Because you have tried to be faithful to me in all ways, I will grant you one wish.”
Recently I was searching the Internet for a specific Lyme protocol using my favorite new doTERRA essential oils. Instead, I was gifted with a current Lyme protocol and study using my recently discovered Nature’s Sunshine products. Along with the discovery I came across this humorous treasure, “The History of Medicine.” To all those with difficult health issues, navigating the challenging road to wellness . . . Enjoy!
