The Golden Years

Memories of Dad

2012-01-11T18:13:00.000-08:00

There is a missing piece in my family this year, as our beloved father has hung up his final gone fishin’ sign and returned to his Heavenly Home. My father, Milton, loved to fish, but he is warmly remembered as a fisher of men.

Leon Milton Sealy, age 89, passed away on Wednesday, November 30, 2011 at the Ted Warthen Center, in the St. George, Utah, from causes due to old age. On Monday, December 5, 2011, family and friends came together to celebration his life—his graduation day!

Dad has returned home into the loving arms of his Heavenly Father. If you are wondering what he’s doing now, I know . . . because when I was a little girl dad used to tell me that when we went to heaven we would all get to do what we loved best in life. He’d say, “Don’t worry about me Linda, I’ll be up there fishin' and making donuts!” So there you go!

Whatever dad is doing now, I know he’s excited to be working again! Dad’s motto for success was, “Work, Work, Work!” Work was dad’s play! There is nothing he enjoyed more than working in his garden, cleaning out his fishpond, or digging a post hole. Playtime for dad was a day of fishing or logging in the mountains.

I remember one particular summer when my husband, Dale, and I decided to take our children on an afternoon boating trip to play in the shallow, warm water along the North Bear Lake shore. We packed a lunch, preparing to spend the afternoon away from our cabin. As usual, dad was outside chopping wood and I asked him if he’d like to come along. He said, “Why would you want to do that? We’ve got water here!”

“I know Dad,” I said, “but the water on the Idaho side is shallow and warm and the kids love to play there.” Reluctantly he decided to come along, and soon we were all on the North shore, playing in the water and having a great time.

I remember sitting on the beach beside Dad while we ate a sandwich together. He looked at me with a big Milt grin on his face and said, “So are we having fun yet Linda?”

I said, “Sure Dad! See how much fun the kids are having in the water?”

Then he laughed and said, “Are you sure it wouldn’t be more fun to be back home digging a post hole or planting a tree?” That was Dad. He loved to be outdoors working hard.

When I think of my father, I think of him as “a big fish” in the big fish pond of life. He just loved to fish. In our house the cost of material possessions were counted in dozens of donuts he’d need to make to pay for them, and jokes were related to fishing! His great sense of humor gave us laughter and the strength to endure the hardships and sorrows of life. When I think of my father I think of his big smile, the twinkle in his eye, and all of his funny sayings. No matter what happens in my life, I can always hear my dad’s voice in my head––the things he said, or would have said, in any given situation. For example, when talking about his posterity he’d say, “We need more Indians in this family. We have too many chiefs!” When bragging about his Grandchildren he’d say, “There’s not an ugly one in the bunch!” On my college graduation day he said, “Well congratulations Linda! But ya know . . . college graduates are some of the stupidest people I know––very little common sense!” And before he’d leave for work in the morning he’d pop his head in my little sister Loni’s room and say, “Well, ya going to amount to anything?” We hope he’s looking down on us now, seeing how great all his Indian Chiefs turned out.

When I think of my dad I recall the proud look he had on his face the day he and mom returned home from their LDS Church mission service. When I think of my father I think of a man that stood for honesty beyond reproach. He always took responsibility for his actions––his mistakes. I remember him saying, “I have no one to blame but myself. I did it to myself!” His Patriarchal Blessing said he would be “a help unto many people in showing them the right way to go, setting an example before all men—of the life of a true Latter-day Saint.” That was Dad.

Throughout my high schools years I worked in Bear Lake during my summers. Most of the time the family was at the lake, but once in a while it was just Dad and I. I remember after being alone for a few days I called home from work to see when they were coming back. “When are you coming back Dad?” I said.

Dad’s voice was reassuring over the phone. “Don’t worry Linda. I just wrote you a nice letter explaining everything. We’ll be there soon. And don’t forget to water the lawn!”

I was so excited. I couldn’t wait to get to the post office. Imagine! A letter from my dad! Dad wasn’t one to write letters––mom was the writer of the family. So you can imagine my excitement when I retrieved the long #10 business envelope from the post office, with my name on it. I ripped open the envelope revealing a small, yellow, ripped notepad sheet with the words: “Linda . . . Be there soon. Water lawn, Milt.” Dad was never one for small talk—he was direct and to the point.

I know that each of us are called home in the Lords time––when our mission is complete. Dad had several near death experiences before his actual death, but he was preserved in life until his mission was completed. Once Dad was involved in a terrible accident while on his way to work at Won-door Corporation. His lightweight truck was struck from behind on the freeway causing him to roll several times. The highway patrolman at the scene of the accident looked into the cab of Dad’s pickup truck and saw him laying on the floor with his eyes wide open. “You're alive!” the officer exclaimed.

“I believe I am!” was Dad’s reply. Later, when Dad went to claim his tools from the salvage yard, he was told that they had been sold because they thought that, “no one could have survived that wreck!”

After that Dad always said that, “When it's your time to go, it's your time! Not before!”

Only God knows when it’s our time. He is in charge. He gives us each breath. He is preserving each of us from day to day, lending us breath, that we may learn, grow, and love, and to serve one another. Dad was lovingly served by many willing hands in his declining years. He came to accept that service, and along with him, we are so grateful for the love and care he received. Surely there is a great mansion prepared in Heaven for such a man of love and strength—where he can continue to do great work among men, as a new fish in a Heavenly sea.

Dad’s younger brother, Ramon, has said that Dad was the “single most influence in his life—one of his real heros and a great role model.” I have to agree. He was my hero too.

I love you Dad. Work hard, and don’t forget to water the lawn! We’ll be there soon!

The Greatest Gift of All

2011-12-20T14:48:00.000-08:00

He taught us how to live, He taught us how to die,

He taught us how to LOVE!

  “The mansion [in heaven] prepared for you . . . is never earned; it is only given. . . . Only that which is truly given, . . . Only that good which is done for the love of doing it . . . Only those plans in which the welfare of others is the master thought. Only those labors in which the sacrifice is greater than the reward. [Your mansion is prepared] only with those gifts in which the giver forgets himself.”
~ The Mansion, by Henry Van Dyke

“Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, . . . But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, . . . For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” ~ Matthew 6:19-21

Who’s at Your Thanksgiving Table?

2011-11-20T14:56:00.000-08:00

Who is eating at your Thanksgiving table this year? Neighbors? Friends? Family? Recently, I discovered there is a tropical parasite called “Blood Fluke” dining at mine. Blood Fluke is not found in the United States. It is indigenous in third world countries, such as the Caribbean, where we vacationed 16 years ago.

A “parasite” is defined as an “organism living in or on another organism (it’s host) that benefits by deriving nutrients at the host’s expense. Simply speaking, you might say a parasite “eats” from another’s table, causing varying degrees of damage or disease to it’s host. Parasites are generally much smaller and reproduce at a faster rate than their hosts. An extraordinary variety of viruses, bacteria, parasites, and organisms stand ready to attack us and feed off our bodies' cells. They can come from our water, food, animals, and even small insects. Parasites can also carry a host of other destructive pathogens with them, such as the Lyme pathogen that my Blood Fluke carried with it.

After 16 years of chasing after the complicated pathogens associated with Lyme disease, I have finally discovered who has been eating at MY table! Blood Fluke—a tropical parasite, has been hiding in my body, undetected by traditional medical tests—an organism so small and naked to the human eye that it has been able to feast and thrive heartily at my table. Blood Fluke—carrying within it’s digestive system the Lyme pathogens that have plagued my body.

Before my September post, ‘Remembering 9/11,” I had not written on my blog for over six months, due to the electrically charged pinched nerves in my neck and arms—somehow made acthive when I am working on the computer. What began as an annoyance that I controlled with essential oils for several months, suddenly spiraled out of control into an extremely painful, traumatic condition. I had been religiously following a new medical protocol over the past year that had been helping my joint pain and over-all condition, when suddenly I found myself at a healing crossroad. I tried a Lymphatic and Cranial Sacral massage therapy, as well as a Chiropractor, for what originally appeared to be tendinitis, to help relieve my “burning” shoulder, arm muscle, and elbow pain. The “electrical” cramping nerve pain would plague me for hours after sitting at my computer keyboard. My only continuous relief was to discontinue using the computer—my connection to the world, family and friends—my creative outlet. I love literature—reading, writing—manipulating the English language, like an artist painting a portrait with colorful oils. I enjoy weaving together different colors and shades of the written word.

Last February, with no other choice readily available, I had to retire from the church job I have loved for ten years—writing my ward’s weekly ward bulletin, monthly newsletter, phone directory and yearly history. My burning arm pain has been reminiscent of the sciatic nerve pain I experienced in my legs eight years ago, causing me to be bedridden. It was also comparable to the foot and arm pain that signaled the beginning of my health crisis 16 years ago. I have been told many times by medical personnel that I have a high tolerance for pain, but the “nerve pain” I have ever experienced is pain unlike I have ever known and has literally threatened to bring me to a breaking point. Medically speaking, there has never been a logical answer for these painful episodes and I have had to rely on a much higher power for inspiration when I didn’t know what to do or where to turn for help.

Life has been compared to a continuous journey with obstacles and challenges that threaten to destroy us. We are sometimes faced with life-threatening opposition and treacherous rocky roads, with dips and turns that hamper our physical and eternal progress. Like parasites, sometimes people can be parasitic to our soul, feeding off our tables, trying to diminish our God-given light—in an attempt to brighten their own lamps. They want us to feel the same unhappiness they feel. Parasitic people––sometimes called “haters” or “bullies” are usually just unhappy people, looking for joy by feeding off our tables of light.

We must watch out for parasitic people and believe them when they show us who they really are by their actions. We want to believe there is good in everyone, but like real parasites, parasitic people can block our eternal progress by taking away our “good nutrients.” Like the previously undetected parasites hidden within my body, they leave a negative environment of unhappiness in their path and it is up to us to clear their negative effects from our lives.

Sometimes parasitic people, like parasitic pathogens, can be a blessing in disguise––helping us discover “who we are” and what we are made of. Parasites may try to block our progress by taking away our good nutrients, but once we identify them we can begin to navigate around them and clear away the destructive behavior.

The fork in the road of my dining room healing crisis led me to explore an alternative path I had heard about previously in a local Lyme support meeting. Along with my regular medical appointments, I am also going to a new medical clinic trained in Chinese medicine, acupuncture, and genetic testing. I have discovered new answers—what happened to me and why I got hit so hard, so fast. I have been exposed to new ideas, new technology, and new people, who have traveled equally difficult paths of healing. In a world filled with turmoil, I am continuously amazed at the wondrous world of technology we live in, and the generous people who strive to help others and make this world a better place for everyone. I am filled with gratitude for the multitudes of God’s children who work tirelessly, serving others in His kingdom—from my dedicated doctors to my husband who has become chief cook, maid, and bottle washer, and our children who generously give their time and talents to clean our home and massage my sore muscles. We are grateful for good friends and neighbors who faithfully show up each day to help me exercise, and bless our lives with their genuine friendship and acts of love.

Slowly we have begun to unravel the complicated mysteries of my illness, causing me to realize that I have been led “line upon line, precept upon precept,” according to my faith and willingness to open my heart in acceptance. For example, even though I had been taking an abundance of supplements, we discovered I had a very specific calcium and magnesium need, correcting my cramping muscles almost immediately. I was also tested for very specific toxins and pathogens that are relative to Lyme disease when a patient’s is unable to rid themselves of the Lyme die-off. Through genetic testing we discovered I am a slow detoxer and have began to skillfully begin to bypass that genetic code to help my body turn things around to the best of its ability.

Ir makes me smile now remembering my sister, Judy, who passed away 25 years ago, when she used to say jokingly, “I wish I could have a parasite from South America for a little while, so I could eat whatever I wanted and get real skinny!” However, it is definitely not something you want eating at your table! Happy Thanksgiving! And count your blessings!

A “Spook”-tacular Halloween

2011-10-30T11:51:00.000-07:00

Our Ghouls and Goblins!

“Fang”-tastic Feast!

Ashley’s Mummy Cheese Ball

Aleesha’s Brain and Worm Jell-O

Rachel’s Mummies

Aleesha’s Deviled Eyeballs

Liz’s Scary Apple Teeth

Kenzie's Cupcakes

Monsters Inc.

(Making Monster Pumpkins)

Donut Dunkin’

“Terror”-ific Time!

“Boo”-tiful Bunch!

Halloween Public Service Announcement

2011-10-27T15:03:00.000-07:00

DON’T Text and Drive!!!

The life you save may be your own!

Remembering 9/11

2011-09-11T13:31:00.000-07:00

Today is a day of remembrance––a day of reverence, remembering those who lost their lives ten years ago on 9/11. As I listened this morning to the Sunday Mormon Tabernacle Choir broadcast of “Music and the Spoken Word,” with Tom Brokaw narrating, I was reminded of what is really important in this life. The vivid images of 9/11 have been all over the television screen this past week, but the message of this particular inspirational broadcast was simple. Survivors testified of how their priorities changed in that moment, on that day. While previously they had been more concerned with making money, to have the finer things in life we all desire––in an instant they were reminded of what is really important––Family, Faith, Friends.

I am reminded of a conversation I had with an elderly gentleman recently, while sitting in my doctor's waiting room. He had spent the majority of his life as head of a large corporation of grocery store chains. Now retired, he spends his days caring for his physically handicapped wife, and working in the Salt Lake Temple as a Temple sealer. He was a joyful, positive man--desiring only to serve his fellow human beings. Someone in the waiting room asked him what he considered to be the secret of his success. He humbly replied that it was understanding the “order of his priorities.” All the years he was working in corporate America he had a plaque in his office to remind him of what was truly important. It read:

Family

Faith

Work/Community

Self

He said that as long as we put “Family and Faith first" in our lives, and “ourselves last," we will be successful!

I am grateful for family and friends today and for my testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We are so fortunate to know who we are, where we came from, and where we are going after this life. May we all remember what is truly important and cherish this time we have together.

The Complicated Relationship of Love

2011-02-28T17:39:00.000-08:00

What is Love?

What is Love? In an ideal world, we are supposed to deeply love one another. In fact the word “Sisterhood” has become an action verb in our society, signifying loving relationships closely bonded in love, even without a blood connection. Romantic movies and favorite novels paint pictures of perfection, making us feel inadequate if we have a sibling, parent, or spouse relationship with a less than perfect scenario.

“Love” and “Hate” are intimately linked within the human brain. Although they appear to be polar opposites, scientists studying the physical nature of hate have found that some of the nervous circuits in the brain responsible for it, are the same as those that are used during the feeling of romantic love. These two seemingly opposite four letter words have been responsible for wars fought and relationships gained and severed. The complicated relationship of Love and Hate has been consistently explored in literature and cinema throughout history.

Hate is often considered to be an evil passion that should, in a better world, be tamed, controlled and eradicated. The truth is, relationships are complicated—often with shades of Love and Hate that can directly influence our self esteem—“Who we are,” and “What we become.” According to psychologist, Vicki Stark, author of “My Sister, My Self,” this is especially true of sister relationships.

Sister Relationships

Stark says “Your childhood relationship with your sister or sisters greatly influences your identity as an adult … The quality of that childhood sister relationship is a powerful determining force in your self-esteem. Sister relationships are somewhat like computers. When they work, nothing can bring you more pleasure and make you feel more competent. When they don't, nothing can make you more miserable.”

The lyrics from the 1996 song, “No Matter What,” popularized by the group Boyzone, remind us of the influence those we love and grow up with have on our psychological development. “No matter what they tell us, No matter what they do, No matter what they teach us, What we believe is true.”

As adults, the feelings of Love and Hate formed in the nursery of our lives can still evoke powerful feelings within us. Close sister relationships can arouse feeling of intense emotion that can “push our buttons” as we alternately find one another heavy burdens to bear, as well as treasured gifts from God.

If we are fortunate enough to have a “bonded” sister relationship, our lives can be blessed in a unique way. Bonded sister relationships are desirable because bonded sisters are loved for themselves—just the way they are. There is great satisfaction that comes with being totally accepted for who you are. Stark says that bonded sisters “have so much fun.” They enjoy hanging out together—just being in the same room. And there is a laughter factor—they love to laugh!

Stark further explains that, “The effect of the sister stamp in relationships even crosses generations. At times, it is at the root of mother-daughter conflict … Older sisters, who were given a lot of praise and status in the surrogate mother role growing up, tend to find raising their own children a pleasure. Those who were burdened with too much responsibility and not given adequate support by their parents when they were kids sometimes experience parenting as an unwelcome chore. … Mothers who have trouble controlling their little girls are often women who didn't have very much power in their own childhood families.”

You might find yourself asking, “How can we come from the same family and see the world so differently?” We don’t always share the same political, religious, or moral values as our siblings. Yet often in our society we are expected to agree because of the bond of blood we share. Adult older siblings may feel burdened with their childhood roles where they were expected to set an example, protect and care for their younger siblings—especially when their need for “control” is still very much front and center in their lives. Their younger siblings have grown up and no longer wish to be bullied and manipulated into submission, desiring to have an equal say in family discussions. Younger siblings may also experience hurtful feelings when their opinions are dismissed and ignored as if they were invisible.

Unfortunately, it is difficult for siblings to “agree to disagree,” especially when our siblings behavior hurts our feelings or our pride. So we tend to either respond in anger or to completely withdraw rather than talking about the true source of conflict. The lack of communication then causes of general lack of trust, evoking a vicious cycle that is difficult to navigate.

Sometimes real-life events, beyond the control of parents or children, may stress and destabilize families, sometimes resulting in conflict between sisters (a death in the family, aging parents, or Illness—physical or mental.) According to Vicki Stark, the sibling bond is often strongly influenced by these situations. “Either the kids band together into a tight, cohesive team or they scatter to the winds, each one trying desperately to protect him or herself. … Sisters know which buttons to push to make the other feel guilty. The button-pusher tries to control the relationship by making her sister feel guilty.”

Like in countries at war, we never know when the war of the family will erupt, as life’s twists and turns often unearth buried hostilities. The death of a brother or sister can be a terrible shock to the family unit, causing a meridian of negative feelings—guilt for time not spent, blame for how they died, and even unresolved feelings of childhood jealousy. However, the death of a sibling can also bring families closer together and strengthen their bonds of love. With our siblings we can express our sorrow, anger, and guilt—freely. Our childhood stories and memories are treasured—comforting us with laughter and healing. Our tears are accepted by those who’ve shared our lives and by sharing—our pain is diminished.

Going Into the Forest

In the Hindu religion it is said that there is a time when people of a certain age “go into the forest.” Having accomplished their life goals of marriage, children and work, they enter a time when new choices are available. As they enter this new forest of life they may decide to reconnect with people lost and to distance themselves from others. However, the first and foremost question on their mind upon entering the forest is, “Who am I?”

As we each enter our own forest of tranquility and renewal, will we be carriers of grief and rage, jealousy, pride, or guilt. It has been suggested that there are parts of the forest where we may leave these feelings. There is also a place in the forest where we may find those who we’ve hurt, or who might have hurt us in the past. The forest becomes a place where we can sit a while and ponder, watching the leaves move in the wind, as we drink a bit from the rushing stream.

Author, Jane Isay, in her book, “Mom Still Likes You Best,” sums up our individual experiences in the forest with the following words of encouragement. “We can all eventually resolve the childhood emotions that families evoke in times of stress … As we leave this place [our forest], we may, if we are very lucky, find what we have been looking for: our better selves, the part of us that can love and forgive, play and dance, mourn and cry, and look up to the heavens with joy!” She further explains, “Nothing worthwhile is easy … and nothing difficult is accomplished to perfection.”

Vicki Stark concludes “It is possible to soften the sister influence, as well as celebrate it!” We can take charge of the hidden dynamics that have shaped our lives!

Finding Forgiveness

Much has been written about healing our relationships through love and forgiveness. Forgiveness is an essential part in finding the light of life. It helps us release the subconscious blocks that hold us back from experiencing the life we were intended to live and enjoy. However, one of the best definitions of forgiveness I’ve heard teaches us that real “Forgiveness” is “Giving up the hope that the past could have been any different.” You let go of that hope, the wish, that you’d had a different parent, sister, or spouse … You let that go, so you can move forward with the grace God has given you.

Three Parts to a Proper Apology  

“If you’ve done something wrong in your dealings with another person, it’s as if there’s an infection in your relationship. A good apology is like an antibiotic; a bad apology is like rubbing salt in the wound … Proper apologies have three parts: 1) What I did was wrong. 2) I feel badly that I hurt you. 3) How do I make this better?” ~ Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture

Exercise Your Wrinkles Away!

2011-01-26T13:51:00.000-08:00

Calling All Women! Add this to your growing collection of New Year exercise routines. My daughter, Ashley, sent this hilarious video to me. Forget about plastic surgery … Exercise your facial wrinkles away!

The thing that makes this video so funny is not that she is in full workout color coordinated clothing (although that’s funny too), but the real humor is … this is a bonafide, tried and true facial exercise!! Go ahead and try it. You know you want to. It’s funnier if you try it with a friend or watch yourself in the mirror. Bet ya can’t help laughing!

Life Lessons for a New Year!

2011-01-08T20:46:00.000-08:00

New Beginnings!

“Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.” ~ Anthem Lyrics by Leonard Cohen

These inspirational lyrics by folksinger, songwriter, and poet, Leonard Cohen, in his 1967 song “Anthem,” are a nostalgic reminder that each New Year brings new opportunities and possibilities.

“The birds they sang at the break of day … Start again I heard them say. Don't dwell on what has passed away or what is yet to be.”
~ Anthem Lyrics by Leonard Cohen

His message for all is … that life isn’t perfect … people aren’t perfect. It’s the cracks and flaws in each of us that allow us to grow and learn life lessons. Our broken places, once healed, can become strong as we open our hearts and “allow the light to come in.” And with each new lesson we become more Compassionate, Contented, Happy … We discover our True Self-worth—“Who we really are!”

Over fifty years ago, Richard L. Evans, the voice behind “Music and the Spoken Word,” said these pivotal words that still ring true today. “The moment we close the books on one year we open them on another … And no matter how good [or bad] last year was, there is this year now to consider. We have to keep at it, for life is a process, and not a finished product, and there is no moment at which we can say that the picture is completed.”

“Failure, like success, is never final … We all have successes in our past, just as we remember things we wish we had done a little better. But we need not become discouraged about our past mistakes any more than we should become too comfortable with our past accomplishments. Many mistakes can be corrected, just as many successes can be improved. As long as we keep moving forward and keep doing our best, no success or failure is final.” ~ Lloyd D. Newell, “Music and the Spoken Word,” January 2, 2011

‘Twas the Night Before the Morning After

2010-12-24T16:38:00.000-08:00

'Twas the Night Before the Morning After

By Dave Barry (The Miami Herald, December 1, 1996)

'Twas the night before Christmas … or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or whatever religious holiday your particular family unit celebrates at this time of year via mass retail purchases.

And all through the house … Not a creature was stirring … except Dad, who was stirring his third martini—in a losing effort to remain in a holiday mood, as he attempted to assemble a toy for his 9-year-old son, Bobby. It was a highly complex toy. A toy that Dad did not even begin to grasp the purpose of. A toy that cost more than Dad's first car. A toy that was advertised relentlessly on TV with a little statement in the corner of the TV screen that said “SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED.” (Which was like saying that the Titanic sustained “some water damage.”) Because this toy had more parts than the Space Shuttle.

And speaking of space … Dad was now convinced that extraterrestrial life DID indeed exist, because the assembly instructions were clearly written by beings from another galaxy. And these beings insisted on Phillips screwdrivers. And Dad could not find his Phillips screwdriver. In fact, he was wondering who “Phillips” was and why he needed a different kind of screwdriver than everybody else. That was the festive holiday thought that Dad was thinking as he took a slug from his martini and attempted to attach Part 3047-B to Part 3047-C using a steak knife. But other than that, not a creature was stirring in the house.

Although Mom was definitely stirring OUT of the house. Mom was at the Toys “R” Us store. In fact, this was the fifth Toys “R” Us store that Mom had been to that night in her desperate quest to find the one thing that their 5-year-old daughter, Suzy, wanted this holiday season. It was, of course, a Barbie doll. But not just ANY Barbie doll. It had to be the new model, “Abdominals Barbie”—the one who came with her own little pink “stomach muscle” exercise device. It was the hottest Barbie doll of all this holiday season. Every girl age 3 through 12 in the entire United States HAD to have it or her holiday season would be RUINED!

And so of course the Mattel Corporation, which is run by evil trolls from Hades, had manufactured exactly eight units of this doll. And the very last one in the world was in this particular Toys “R” Us. Which means that the odds were against Mom, because on this same festive night thousands of other frantic parents had converged on this same store [kind of like the flesh-eating zombies in the movie “Night of the Living Dead,” only less ethical]. The store was a war zone. Mom had to fight her way into the doll aisle, where, wielding a Tonka Truck like a club, she claimed her prize! And then, trailed by a screaming mob of rival parents, she raced from the store, leaped into her car, and roared out of the parking lot—barely missing the Salvation Army person.

She raced back to the house, burst through the front door, and staggered into the family room, where she found Dad … Actually she found Dad's feet. The rest of Dad was under the sofa. A strange gurgling sound was coming from down there. Dad, now on his fifth martini, was trying to strangle the dog—which, Dad was convinced, had eaten Part 8675-Y.

And just at that very moment … Out on the lawn there arose such a clatter … That Dad let go of the dog. And he and Mom went to the window to see what was the matter.

And what to their wondering eyes should appear … But Santa Claus, yelling the names of reindeer … “Now Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Vixen! Now ... Umm ... Now ... Dancer!”

“He already said Dancer,” observed Dad.

“He can't remember them all,” said Mom.

“I think one of them is Pluto,” said Dad.

“Wasn't Pluto the guy who was always fighting with Popeye?” said Mom.

“You're thinking of Bluto,” said Dad.

“Now ... Umm ... Now Flicka!” said Santa.

“Flicka was a horse, that I DO know,” said Mom.

“Do you think the reindeer are wrecking the lawn?” said Dad.

“They're going up on the roof,” said Mom.

“Like heck they are,” said Dad, who had recently spent $875 on shingle repair. But before he could yell at St. Nicholas to stop … Down the chimney the jolly elf came with a plop!

He had a broad face and a round little belly, that shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. (Which was pretty gross.)

“What's so funny?” asked Dad.

“You two,” said St. Nick. “Why are you getting all upset about toys? The holiday season isn't about material possessions!”

“Do you have kids?” asked Mom.

“Well, no,” said Santa.

“Hah,” said Mom.

“But I am beloved by children the world over,” said Santa.

“Well,” said Dad, “you won't be beloved by our son if I can't assemble this toy.”

“What seems to be the problem?” said Santa, coming over to have a look.

“I'm stuck on Step 824,” said Dad.

“Who wrote these instructions?” asked Santa. “Martians?”

“Apparently,” said Dad.

“I used to be pretty good with tools,” said Santa. “Hand me that steak knife.”

“Sure,” said Dad. “Care for a martini?”

“Heck yes,” said Santa.

And so he went to work. And after a while Mom and Dad, exhausted, went to bed, leaving old St. Nick in the family room. He said some pretty unsaintly words, but he eventually got Bobby's toy assembled. And although he spent so much time that he was unable to visit the rest of the little boys and girls in North America … not to mention South America, Europe, Asia, and Africa, this particular household had a very happy Christmas morning indeed.

Suzy came downstairs and saw Abdominals Barbie, and Bobby came downstairs and saw his incredibly complex toy, which he broke in under four minutes—a new holiday record. But it was still a festive day … Especially when Mom and Dad told the fantastic story of their late-night visitor—which, at first, the kids did not believe. In fact, even Mom and Dad were not 100 percent sure it had happened … Until Dad got out the ladder. And one by one they climbed up to the roof. And there they saw it ... As real as life ... A Holiday Miracle ... Reindeer poop! (And $1,097.36 worth of shingle damage.)

Merry Christmas!!

Magical Monkeys and Milk Chocolate Christmas

2010-12-22T18:50:00.000-08:00

Growing up in my family, Christmas was always a celebrated event. My parents were children when the Great Depression began in late 1929, so they both grew up understanding what it meant to be poor. Their families worked hard, but with large families and difficult economic conditions, there was little money to spend on fancy toys and pretty dresses that children often dream about. However, they had their families, and in their love they were happy and contented.

My mother doesn’t remember feeling poor, because everyone they knew was in the same financial condition. They grew their own food, and traded for things they did not have. Mother grew up in the warmth of a loving family. Perhaps because of her meager possessions as a child, or perhaps just because she loved the happy memories of Christmas morning, warm coal stoves, and oranges and peppermint candy … my mother always worked hard to make Christmas an extra special day for each of her children.

I remember my mother hand flocking her own Christmas tree with our old canister vacuum—white clouds of fluffy snow filling the carport, as she sprayed the green branches of our freshly cut Christmas tree. While most of the neighborhood decorated their Christmas trees with traditional colored twinkle lights, candy canes, and silver icicles … Mom was a trend setter and liked modern, designer trees with big red and purple balls, soft white lights, and coordinated wrapping paper. She’d paint Christmas scenes on the front window and hang twinkle lights around it. And there was the Christmas sewing. Throughout December, Mom’s Singer sewing machine could be heard late into the night, long after we were asleep. On Christmas morning there would be new pajamas, Christmas dresses, and doll clothes, skillfully made with her two hands.

Dad used to tease mother and bark in a loud, gruff voice, “Christmas … Humbug,” with a twinkle in his eye. But he’d work hard for extra money to give mom for the shopping, and we knew he enjoyed Christmas as much as we did.

As the big day got closer he’d jokingly question my mother, “Is Santa bringing anything special to Linda?”

They had a communication code in front of the children because Christmas secrets and surprises were part of the anticipation of the long awaited day. Mother would reply, “Yes dear, Santa is bringing her a D … O … L … L,” spelling the letters of my secret gift.

“A what?” Dad would say. And then it would suddenly click in his head what she’d spelled out, and he’d blurt out loud, “Oh, … a doll!”

“Milt!” my mother would exclaim shaking her head and hoping I hadn’t heard. They were like a hysterical comedy team of players and I loved the dance between them.

On one particular Christmas I wanted a monkey. I imagined having a “real” live monkey—a blackish-brown, furry, clothes wearing chimpanzee—like in the popular 1965 Disney movie, “The Monkey’s Uncle,” (with Tommy Kirk and Annette Funicello), that created the hit song by the same name. I was a young naive teenager, as well as an Annette Funicello fan, and having a pet monkey around sounded like a blast. After all, it worked for Annette.

The monkey was the main item on my Christmas wish list. My mother pointed out how impractical having a real monkey around the house would be and the improbability of ever sharing our home with such a smelly animal. I understood, but kept it on my list just in case ole’ “Santa” had a change of heart.

Right before Christmas, Dad came home with a package of two-inch “milk chocolate” Santa’s—colorfully wrapped in foil Santa suits. My younger brother and I were wide-eyed and curious. Chocolate candy was rare in our home. Were they for us?

The next morning we discovered the mouth watering Santa’s had been placed on specific presents under the tree, identifying Dad’s gifts to each of us. We were so excited! I could hardly wait to find out what Dad’s special gift to me would be. We knew our parents were the real Santa’s, of course, and that mom did the majority of the Christmas shopping. So to have a special gift marked just from Dad, was a thrill we hadn’t expected. I counted the days until Christmas.

On the long awaited day there were stockings hanging on the fireplace—filled with candy and small toys. There were wrapped presents galore and several opened Santa gifts, waiting to be discovered under the tree. I looked around curiously for my monkey and wasn’t surprised to find him missing-in-action among the hall of Santa gifts. It was a glorious Christmas morning full of surprises and shouts of joy. I saved the best for last—my gift from Dad, wanting to savor the chocolate Santa and whatever the contents of my gift would be. Much to my surprise, attached to the present was a note written in Dad’s scribbled hand, explaining Santa could not bring my monkey, but hoped the gift would take it’s place. I ripped off the wrapping paper—revealing a huge, furry, blackish-brown, thumb sucking, stuffed, toy monkey—wearing rubber white tennis shoes. I was in love—with the monkey for sure, but mostly I was filled with love for my Dad and his desire to fill the wishes of my young impressionable heart.

Now, as I prepare for Christmas for my own family, I try to create the memorable traditions of my youth—the designer Christmas tree and coordinated wrapping paper, Christmas lights, and Christmas surprises. It’s not about the money or material possessions … It’s about the magical feeling … creating a special day and being with those you love on “His” special day. I like to fill the stockings with small toys and special trinkets—like my mother did. And I try to find the Christmas magic—with that one special surprise under the tree … Like that “Magical Monkey and Milk Chocolate Christmas” so long ago.

The Twelve Gifts of Christmas

2010-12-13T16:32:00.000-08:00

"On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me … A partridge in a pear tree!"

Some early traditions believe that this famous Christmas song was used as a “teaching tool” to instruct young people in various denominations of the Christian faith. It was written in England for young Catholics in the days when it was illegal to practice or teach the Catholic Faith. It contains hidden symbolism intended to help children remember lessons of faith. Instead of referring to an earthly suitor, the “true love” mentioned in the song really refers to God. The “me” who receives the presents is symbolic of every baptized person. Even without the symbolic connotation, the song is a playful piece that loses none of its appeal when taken at face value.

1. A Partridge in a Pear Tree: The partridge in the pear tree represents Jesus on the cross. The bird imagery can also be seen as symbolic of Christ’s teaching “as hen doth gather her brood under her wings.” ~ Luke 13:34

2. Two Turtle Doves: The two turtledoves represent the Old Testament and the New Testament.

3. Three French Hens: The three French hens symbolize the members of the Godhead: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Alternately, they represent the three virtues: Faith, Hope, and Charity (or Love). ~ 1 Corinthians 13:13

4. Four Colly Birds: The four colly birds (“colly” is an old word for black) stand for the four Evangelists—Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John—or the four Gospels they wrote.

5. Five Golden Rings: The five gold rings correspond to the first five books of the gospel, sometimes referred to as the Pentateuch.

6. Six Geese A Laying: The six geese a-laying refer to the six days of the creation. ~ Genesis 1:31; Exodus 20:11

7. Seven Swans A Swimming: The seven swans a-swimming suggest the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (Romans 12:6-8). Alternately, the seven swans represent the seven sacraments recognized by some faith traditions.

8. Eight Maids A Milking: The eight maids a-milking signify the eight Beatitudes from Christ’s Sermon on the Mount. ~ Matthew 5:3-10

9. Nine Ladies Dancing: The nine ladies dancing embody the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit. ~ Galatians 5:22-23

10. Ten Lords A Leaping: The ten lord’s a-leaping denote the Ten Commandments. ~ Exodus 20: 3-17

11. Eleven Pipers Piping: The eleven pipers piping represent the eleven faithful disciples. ~ Luke 6:13-16; Acts 1:26

12. Twelve Drummers Drumming: The twelve drummers drumming are symbolic of the twelve doctrines in the Apostles Creed: Belief in the Father, Belief in the Son, Virgin Birth, Atonement, His Ministry after Death, His Ascension to Heaven, His Role as Judge, Belief in the Holy Ghost, Belief in the Church, Forgiveness of Sin, Resurrection, and Eternal Life. ~ Excerpts taken from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir 2009 Newsletter

“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” ~ Norman Vincent Peale

What is a Little Boy?

2010-12-02T15:08:00.000-08:00

They make you laugh, they make you cry. You marvel at their antics while they drive you crazy! You worry about them—yet you can’t resist loving the little boys in your life.

As a mother, YOUR little boy is always your "favorite" little boy of all!  

A Little Boy is—TRUTH with dirt on his face, 

BEAUTY with a cut on his finger, 

WISDOM with bubble gum in his hair, 

AND HOPE of the future with a frog in his pocket! 

~ Author Unknown

“A little boy is the only thing God can use to make a man.”

~ Author Unknown 

Happy Birthday Cordale!

Blessings From Lyme

2010-11-24T18:31:00.000-08:00

Earlier in the month I attended a local Lyme support meeting at the Alta View hospital. I have mixed feeling about attending these meetings—wanting new information, but not wanting to focus my life on the disease. This disease called “Lyme” does not define “who I am,” and I refuse to allow it to bring me down.

The meeting turned out to be very informative and truly a “wonderful day.” They try to address all aspects of health improvement at the monthly meetings, and this month we discussed the medical benefits of essential oils. Interestingly, it was a discussion specifically about my favorite dōTERRA essential oils! I even learned some new things about fighting the Lyme battle that I didn’t know before.

Towards the end of the meeting the group leader, Jenny Bezzant, who is also Mrs. Utah and a fellow Lymie, gave us a sheet of paper with a stethoscope water image on it to use in an emotional exercise. We were asked to address the statement, “Things Lyme has taken away from me.”

I let go of the anger and sorrow associated with my condition long ago, so I didn’t expect to gain anything from the emotional exercise. However, it turned out to be an interesting experience for me. As we each shared our feelings I was surprised at the sadness still hidden deep within. We learned that it is important to address our sorrow over about the things Lyme has taken from our life, instead of putting on a happy face and stuffing those feelings inside. As children we are often taught it is a sign of weakness to display our emotions. Loving, well-meaning parents calm our fears and tell us not to cry—to be a “big” boy or girl. We learn to hide our true feelings, fearing the judgement of others. Interestingly, as we shared our feelings and a few tears were shed, the emotional release in the room felt extremely healing.

After we finished Jenny gave each of us a second piece of paper with a beautiful river stream of life-giving water on it. We were asked to address a second statement: “Things Lyme has given me.” Interestingly most of us had a longer list of things Lyme had “given us”—blessings of gratitude that we wouldn’t have realized otherwise!

Lyme disease has taken away my ability to be the wife, the mother, and the grandmother I’d wanted to be. I wanted to be the grandmother that hosted slumber partied and made gingerbread cookies with her grandchildren. I’d wanted to be the mother who took her grown children shopping and out to lunch and tended their children. I wanted to be the wife who traveled to far away places with her husband in joyous retirement.

However, that was not to be. So in honor of the month of Thanksgiving, I’m counting my blessings with those of you who are suffering from your own life challenges. We all have our own “Lyme disease” or trials. Everyone is walking his or her difficult path. May we have compassion for one another and learn to live in gratitude for all we have been given. And in doing so, may you come to realize your gifts far outnumber your sorrows!

Things I Have Gained From Lyme:
1. Tranquillity—I don’t sweat the small stuff anymore—fingerprints, broken China dishes, or spilled milk.
2. Being Present in my Life—I live more in the moment, enjoying each day with whatever it brings.
3. Closer Relationships—I enjoy close relationships with each of our children and with my husband—who demonstrates his unconditional love for me daily.
4. The Love of Nature—I appreciate more fully the great gifts God has given us—the sunshine, rainbows, sunsets, trees and flowers.
5. Remembrance of My Love of Music—Somewhere along the hustle and bustle path of life, I’d forgotten how much music has always meant to me. It calms my Spirit and soothes my soul. And with our world of technology—iTunes, and iPods, it’s always available.
6. Knowledge—Learning has never been easier with the information Internet highway of electronic books. I’d forgot how much I enjoy reading for pleasure!
7. Laughter—They say, “Laughter is the best medicine,” and my life is blessed with all the various forms it comes in—hilarious things my grandchildren say, jokes I receive from friends in forwarded emails, my husband’s zany dry sense of humor, and the “laugh out loud” books and movies so easily obtained.
8. Knowing “Who I Am”—Lyme has given me a closer relationship with my Heavenly Father and the knowledge that I am truly “valued” in His eyes.
9. A Strong Testimony—My testimony of the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has grown and been strengthen. This is the greatest of all His gifts—to know “Who we are,” “Where we came from,” and “Where we are going” after this life.

In the words of one of my favorite recording artists and songwriters, Joshua Radin, “It’s a brand new day”—a day of gratitude for the gifts of Lyme. Like in the song’s lyrics, I hope “the sun is shining” for you during this season of Thanksgiving.

“Wishing you a day full of thanksgiving without the turkey hangover!” 

* * * * *

“A grateful heart … comes through expressing gratitude to our Heavenly Father for His blessings and to those around us for all that they bring into our lives … When we encounter challenges and problems in our lives, it is often difficult for us to focus on our blessings. However, if we reach deep enough and look hard enough, we will be able to feel and recognize just how much we have been given.” (“The Divine Gift of Gratitude,” General Conference, October 2010) ~ President Thomas S. Monson

Happy Birthday!

2010-11-18T15:54:00.000-08:00

“Laughter is the music of the heart.”
~ Author Unknown

"A diamond is merely a lump of coal that did
well under pressure." ~ Author Unknown

Happy 19th Birthday Kenzie!

Tuesday dōTERRA Tip!

2010-11-16T17:27:00.000-08:00

Depression Hurts.

We all go through ups and downs in our mood. Sadness is a normal reaction to life’s struggles, setbacks, and disappointments. Many people use the word “depression” to explain these kinds of feelings, but depression is much more than just sadness.

“It seems like this [is] one big Prozac nation, one big mess of malaise. Perhaps the next time half a million people gather for a protest march on the White House green it will not be for abortion rights or gay liberation, but because we’re all so bummed out.”
~ Elizabeth Wurtzel, from the book “Prozac Nation”

Recently there was an interesting article in the Salt Lake Tribune that said, “Nearly 1 in 5 Utah Women use Antidepressants.” So if you suffer from this devastating illness, you may be comforted to know you are not alone. While the statistics are gloomy, the good news comes from the recent dōTERRA Convention that more and more individuals are discovering how to alleviate this situation with dōTERRA’s “Life Long Vitality Pack” and essential oils.

Here’s a summary of how essential oils can help:

Overview 
In March 2006, the Washington Post ran an article from a $35 million dollar government-funded study on depression drugs with these facts: “Antidepressants fail to cure the symptoms of major depression in half of all patients with the disease even if they receive the best possible care.” According to a definitive government study depression seems to be an epidemic in today’s society.   

For Mild Depression 
Clove, Lavender, Melaleuca, Sandalwood, and Ylang Ylang among others, are effective. Also Balancing and Elevation blends are very beneficial. Citrus Oils like Wild Orange, Lemon, and Grapefruit are uplifting. DoTerra's Bergamot essential oil is also very powerful in combating depression. At the recent 2010 doTerra Conference Dr. Hill recommended a blend of Melissa, Wild Orange and Peppermint as an excellent blend to help some with depression.  

Application 
Diffusion is most effective, but body and foot massage and baths also offer good results. Rub 1-2 drops under nose, on the back of neck, on the chest, the wrists, or anywhere you can smell it throughout the day. You can also rub 1-2 drops on the bottom of your feet. Try experimenting with different oils to find out what oils offer optimum results. Some point out that if help is required over a long period of time, a single oil or blend can get “boring” or less effective. For best results rotate or change oils or blends periodically.

Safety Precaution 
As a safety precaution it is recommended that when severe states of depression persist the help of a qualified licensed professional should be sought because, “Depression is often nourished by a lifetime of UN-grieved and unforgiven hurts.”   For more research on dōTERRA’s Essential Oils and Depression click here. To purchase dōTERRA’s Essential Oils click here.

dōTERRA is the only company in the world that has CPTG (Certified Pure Therapeutic Grade) essential oils.

PURE—100% natural, no artificial ingredients, fragrances, or fillers.
SAFE—Certified to be free of pesticides and other chemical residues.
POTENT—Standardized active compounds.
TESTED—Tested by independent laboratories, not in-house vendors.

Halloween Beethoven Groaner

2010-10-30T17:53:00.000-07:00

A tourist in Vienna was going through a graveyard, when all of a sudden he heard some music. No one was around, so he started searching for the source. He finally located the origin, discovering it was coming from a grave with a headstone that read: Ludwig van Beethoven, 1770-1827.

As he continued to listen he realized that the music playing was Beethoven’s “Ninth Symphony” and it was being played backward! Puzzled, he left the graveyard and proceeded to persuade a friend to return with him.

By the time they arrived back at the graveyard the music had changed again. This time it was Beethoven’s “Seventh Symphony,” and like the previous piece, it was being played backward.

Curious, the men agreed to consult a music scholar. When they returned with the expert, Beethoven’s “Fifth Symphony” was playing, again backward. The expert noticed that the symphonies were being played in the reverse order in which they were composed—the 9th, the 7th, and then the 5th.

By the next day word had spread and a throng had gathered around the grave. They were all listening to Beethoven’s “Second Symphony,” once again being played backward. Just then the graveyard's caretaker ambled up to the group. Someone in the crowd asked him if he had an explanation for the music.

“Don't you get it?” the caretaker said incredulously, “He's decomposing!”

(Stan Kegel's Groaner's List; “Profusions of Puns, Gaggles of Groaner”)

Have a Happy Halloween!

Penny Candy Penguin

2010-10-17T14:57:00.000-07:00

Penny Candy Judy

(October 17, 1945 – September 10, 1986)

Today is my sister, Judy’s birthday. Had she lived, she would have been 65 years old. She passed away 24 years ago on September 10, 1986. I still miss her and think about her often. Judy was a great older sister and role model. She made me laugh—a lot! She used to do a hilarious pantomime—about a little girl biting the end off her ice cream cone, that always brought fits of laughter. She was one of those rare individuals who could light up the room just by entering it.

Through a series of coincidences this year, I heard from two of Judy’s BYU theater friends and cast mates. They generously shared some cute stories about Judy that I’d never heard before. Apparently she made a lot of people laugh! Her friends, Carol Brown and Janet Swenson, were both in the 1968 BYU theater production of “Bye, Bye, Birdie” with Judy. Judy was cast as the lead character, dreamy-eyed teenaged “Kim McAfee,” played by actress Ann-Margret in the 1963 movie. Janet played the hilarious, overbearing mother, played by actress Maureen Stapleton. Carol played one of the teenage girlfriends. It was a great cast and a wonderful production that toured all over Europe that summer. For Judy, it was the trip of a lifetime for a young college student! It was also the summer before 23-year-old Judy married her “Neal.” They spent 18 years together and had five children before she had to leave this life much to soon. Leukemia was just as scary of a word in 1986 as it continues to be today. However, in the short (almost 41 years) that she was with us, she lived life to the fullest!

Carol said Judy was just a “doll” (literally a short 4’ 8” doll of a girl who always wanted to be 5 feet). “She was always so giggly and cute and happy and positive,” Carol told me. They called her their “Penny Candy Penguin,” as she always had a stash of penny candy. Judy LOVED penny candy! And being so short had advantages to an established lover of candy. She’d dress up and go “trick-or-treating” even as a BYU college student!

That summer in 1968, on tour in Germany, Judy discovered “Gummy Bears,” long before they were popular in the United States. She introduced them to the entire Bye, Bye, Birdie cast and soon they all fell in love with them too. Janet said Judy’s nickname became “Penny Candy Penguin” because she’d always goof around by waddling like a penguin and telling everyone she was on a diet. She’d say, “I’m on a diet. My diet is eating penny candy until I became so sick of sugar that I won’t be able to eat it for weeks!!” To top that off, in a hilarious coincidence, Judy married a “candy man,” who became the president of Maxfield’s Chocolates! Her cast mates got a huge kick out of that.

True to her penny candy reputation, at their ten-year Bye, Bye, Birdie reunion in 1978—held in Salt Lake City at the old De la Fontana Restaurant, Judy showed up with a never-before-opened bag of European gummy bears she had been saving since Germany!!! Everyone about died laughing and couldn’t believe it. To their delight, Judy shared them.

Humorous as well, Carol said that prior to their departure for Europe Judy put her on to “thigh high nylons,” then sold only at the old Millcreek Pharmacy which was on the North East corner of 2300 East 3300 South in Salt Lake, where Judy grew up. Carol would actually drive up from Provo just to buy them!

That was so Judy! She was always finding the latest craze and telling everybody about them—so they could get them too. After my sisters and I were married with children, Judy turned us on to everything from “Pound Puppies” to “Strawberry Shortcake Dolls” to “Cabbage Patch Kids.” I stood in many early morning lines trying to help her get a favorite Madam Alexandra Doll, when there was only one per customer. I laugh just thinking about it now, knowing she would have been obsessed with collecting Beanie Babies too! However, Penny Candy was her true memorable trademark obsession. Whenever we’d stay up late playing games at our Bear Lake summer family cabin, she'd bring out boxes of penny candy—gummy bears, gummy red raspberries, and gummy Swedish fish. She had licorice in all colors, shapes, and sizes. It was penny candy heaven!

So today in remembrance, I am sharing these happy memories—along with the new memories given to me—all rolled into one. I have a big smile on my face, thinking about her as I write this. I am so full of gratitude for the stories her friends have shared with me, bringing a little of her delicious personality back to me, as if it were yesterday. Interestingly, when I contacted Janet she said she’d been thinking about “Birdie” a lot in recent months. Coincidently she’d even had a note from the Dean’s secretary at BYU asking her if she’d been in the show, wanting her to identify the actors in the production photo. It’s amazing how Heavenly Father puts things together for us, isn’t it!

“Bye, Bye, Birdie,” 1968 Production Photo; BYU European Tour

(Judy is the third person from the left.)

The Psychology of 10/10/10

2010-10-10T10:17:00.000-07:00

Today is October 10, 2010—the tenth day, of the tenth month, in the tenth year of the new century! Many people consider the rare occurrence of same number dates during the calendar year to be lucky. At the very least, it is indeed a unique phenomenon!

To begin with, the number ten in general seems to give people a warm, fuzzy feeling. It is regarded as the most perfect of numbers, symbolic of the beginning and the end. We have ten fingers and ten toes. Counting on fingers probably led to our decimal number system, with its symbols 0-9. Biblically there were ten virgins, five foolish and five wise; There were ten leprous healed by Jesus, and God sent ten plagues of Egypt through the prophet Moses. Finally, Moses received the “Ten Commandments” of God!

Last, but not least, there are the ever ubiquitous Top Ten lists—Top Ten Reasons, Top Ten Websites, Top Ten Songs, Top Ten Movies, Top Ten Headlines, Top Ten Jokes, Top Ten Mistakes, Late Night Show Top Ten, Top Ten Reviews, and the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted Fugitives … the list goes on and on!

Mathematically, the number 101010 is also rooted in uniqueness. It is evenly divisible by the number of days in a week (7, also considered lucky). An equal oddity is the fact that it is also evenly divisible by the number 6 (generally designated as being unlucky). Both a Ying and Yang situation seem to be incorporated into this date!

Globally, today is the biggest-ever day of positive action around the world. From sumo wrestlers cycling to their training in Japan, to 10,000 schools planting trees in Croatia and Russia, from a carbon-cutting telethon on national TV in the Netherlands, to hundreds of people in the UK sitting down to low-carbon Sunday lunches, this is going to be a really inspirational day!

What are you doing for 10:10:10?

Tuesday dōTERRA Tip!

2010-10-05T13:37:00.000-07:00

Question

Anyone know the six most frightening words in the world?

Answer

“The Dentist will see you now!”

Dentistry is a branch of medicine considered necessary for complete overall health. Usually a male profession by nature, the dentist is probably one of the only men in the world that can tell a woman when to open and when to shut her mouth, and get away with it! Dentists can be frustrating though. You wait a month-and-a-half for an appointment, and they say, “I wish you'd come to me sooner.” And it is practically a proven fact that toothaches always start on Friday night right before the weekend when the dental office will be closed.

Are you one of those people, like me, who gets tense and nervous the second you walk into your dentist’s office? Does the sound of the drill and the sight of needles just send you into a fit of nervousness? I understand. I’m the same way. The fear of pain makes the entire process most unpleasant. But it doesn’t have to be this way! This relaxation tip is just for you!

Dentist Relaxation Tip

Take deep breaths of dōTERRA’s “CITRUS” and “LAVENDER” essential oil (or apply 2-3 drops to the back of your neck) to relax and calm you—BEFORE, DURING, and AFTER a visit to the dentist’s office!

When University of Vienna researchers diffused the scents of “Orange” and “Lavender” into dentists’ offices, anxious patients reported they felt calmer. Both scents contain the chemical Linalool (a naturally occurring terpene alcohol chemical found in many flowers and spice plants), which seems to alter the blood chemistry to lower stress. Click here to learn more about these wonderful oils.

Sign Hanging in a Dental Office

“ … Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it.” ~ Psalms 81:10

What is Kangen Water®?

2010-09-29T15:49:00.000-07:00

Did you know? 

1. Residue of food additives and chemicals significantly contaminate your bodily fluids. 
2. 80% of newborns have allergies, caused by their mother’s tainted body fluids. 
3. Quality high PH water is the key to cleaning up tainted body fluids. 
4. There is water that eliminates active oxygen.   

The Japanese word “Kangen” means “return to origin.” We live in a contaminated world full of preservatives, chemicals, and contaminants. It has been said that the current generation is not expected to live as long as their parents did. Health conscious people are returning to their origin by drinking delicious, healthy Kangen Water®, created from Enagic's innovative water technology.   Not only do these amazing devices filter harmful chemicals out of your tap water, they also produce Kangen and acidic waters through the process of ionization. In other words, the Kangen water ionizers return water to it’s purest form! The various water types that can be made with a Kangen water machine can be used for hydrating your body with plenty of healthy, high PH water, cooking with clean uncontaminated fresh water, beautifying your skin, cleaning your fruits and vegetables, and sanitizing everything in your home.

Kangen Water machines work by applying an electrical charge to your tap water, and then sending that charged water through an ion exchange membrane. Positive and negative ions then mix within the water, breaking molecular bonds on dirt. This is what makes Kangen Water® perfect as both beauty water and as a cleaning agent.

For Beauty

Kangen Water® can break the molecular bonds on dirt and oil on your face, keeping it clean, smooth, and moist. Rather than using harsh astringents that dry out your skin, and dealing with tap water that leaves a soapy film after you cleanse, Kangen Water® can help clean your face better than regular tap water.

For Household Cleaning

Kangen Water® can also help you clean your home by loosening the molecular bonds between dirt and the surfaces you’re washing by attracting that dirt like a magnet. In this way, Kangen Water® can actually lift grime and dirt off surfaces, which makes it easy to wipe away. No need for dangerous, toxic cleaners, or abrasive sponges and frantic scrubbing!

For Health

Kangen Water® is also better for personal health and overall well-being. While drinking tap water is better than buying soft drinks, it’s still not the safest solution. Recent investigations reveal that tap water in 42 states have been contaminated with more than 140 unregulated chemicals. Local governments do their best to make the water safe, but as a result, the water tastes heavily chlorinated and unpleasant to drink. Even well water isn’t always safe, especially in homes that are close to farms and animal production facilities with chemical and animal waste runoff.

A Kangen Water® system, with appropriate filters, can clean up contaminated and polluted water, removing the chemicals, bacteria, and other microscopic contaminants that can lead to poor health.

Unfortunately, even bottled water isn’t always a viable solution. It is more expensive, produces environmental damage through creating and disposing of plastic bottles, and is not always free of contaminants. Studies have shown that one-third of bottled water contains levels of contamination that exceed allowable limits. If you buy bottled water from the store, you can pay as much as $1–2 per bottle, just for a false sense of safety. Rather than buying bottled water at a premium price, you can use a Kangen Water System for pennies a day, and create all the safe water you want, right from your tap!

For years we used another common water filtration system called “Reverse Osmosis” water. Reverse Osmosis water is effective in rural and suburban areas that do not have municipally treated water. However, reverse osmosis can’t remove pesticides, herbicides, and chlorine, which are molecularly smaller than water, and can pass through the reverse osmosis filter. Another problem is that reverse osmosis will also remove “healthy water minerals,” which provide a health benefit to our bodies. Stripping these minerals from the water, can actually make it more unhealthy for us!

When we tested the PH level in our own reverse osmosis filtered water, it tested as acidic as soda pop!

Learn how to return your water to to its origin with crisp, clean, delicious tasting, Kangen Water®. Click here for more research. Email lymesgirl@gmail.com for a free DVD.

Strengthened With Courage By Faith!

2010-09-15T16:48:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, September 12, 2010 we had a Regional Conference for the LDS Utah Valley region, involving 147 Stakes—17 Stakes in the BYU Marriot Center where the broadcast originated, and 130 Stakes viewed by satellite in the surrounding area church meeting houses and Stake centers. Sister Julie B. Beck, General Relief Society President, told us that only our "faith" strengthens us in our trials. She said, “We must remember that we fought a war in heaven for the privilege of coming here and having difficult experiences!” Sister Beck reminded us that miracles can happen when we exercise our faith and that we MUST have faith in order to move into the future!

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, reminded us to have “faith in our Heavenly Father's plan” and “conform our will to His.” “He” will make us equal to our tasks! Elder Holland reiterated the council from Elder Steven E. Snow that "remembering the past strengthens our faith and courage." He told the inspirational story of Sister Arabella Jane Coombs and her husband Joseph Stanford Smith recalling the memorable “Hole in the Rock Pioneer Expedition" in Southern Utah. He said as people, “We SHOULD BE "Simple and Deep," NOT "Complex and Superficial."
 

Hole-in-the-Rock Expedition 

1879-1880  

The quarterly conference of the Parowan Stake in December 1879 witnessed the call of forty-nine men and their families to a new mission. The call came from President John Taylor and the Twelve through Elder Erastus Snow. Later, others from nearby settlements joined the final company. What followed became the Hole-in-the-Rock expedition, an epic in LDS Church history. Two hundred fifty people, with eighty wagons and hundreds of loose cattle and horses, cut their way through the rough, unknown country of southeastern Utah. The area traversed remains one of the least-known regions of the world today. Their objective was the San Juan country. In addition to desert cliffs and canyons, the forbidding Colorado River gorge stood in their way. No highway bridge crossed that gorge until 1934. No commercial airline flew from Utah to Arizona, near their route, until 1959.  

Seeking the shortest route, Mormon explorers found a narrow slit in Glen Canyon. The river ran two thousand feet below the red cliffs. This “Hole in the Rock” seemed to offer the shortest route.  

Only a slit in the sheer cliffs, the hole was too narrow for teams, or in some places even for a man. Sheer drops of as much as seventy-five feet made it impossible even for a mountain sheep, let alone loaded wagons. In December 1879, after having left the Parowan and Cedar valleys the previous April, the Saints began to cut a precipitous, primitive road with blasting powder and tools. Elder Platte D. Lyman, leading the party, found that if a road could be built, it would drop eight feet every sixteen and one-half, the first third of the way to the river. Thereafter came several sheer precipices. But the party was prepared. With faith, they were equipped not only for blasting cliffs and carving passages, but for building a raft-boat capable of carrying teams and wagons across the river.  

A road was built and a boat made by January 25, 1880. Now came the effort to get families and the first forty wagons, camped at the rim, down the “Hole.” The others, back at Fifty-Mile Spring, would follow later.  

Kumen Jones has left a description of the method of descent. Twenty men and boys would hold long ropes back of each wagon. The wheels were brake-locked with chains. Otherwise, rolling wheels would pitch, unchecked, into the struggling team. On January 26, 1880, a month later, Platte D. Lyman recorded in his journal: “Today we worked all the wagons in this camp down the Hole and ferried 26 of them across the river. The boat is worked by 1 pair of oars and does very well.”  

The family of Joseph Stanford Smith and his wife, Arabella, was the last wagon to descend that day. Stanford Smith had helped the preceding wagons down that long day. His outfit had evidently been forgotten. Deeply disturbed, he climbed the two-thousand-foot incline. He found Arabella sitting on a quilt, holding the baby, patiently waiting. His outfit and their two other children in the wagon were hidden behind a huge, mountainous rock.  

Stanford Smith moved his load to the edge. A third horse was hitched to the rear axle. Stanford and Arabella looked down the “Hole.” He said, “I am afraid we can’t make it.”  

Bella replied, “We must make it.”  

Stanford said, “If we only had a few men to hold the wagon back we might make it, Belle.”  

With incredible faith Bella replied, “I’ll do the holding back.”  

A quilt was laid on the ground. There she placed the baby between the legs of three-year-old Roy. “Hold little brother til papa comes for you,” she said. Ada, the older girl, was placed in front of them. Behind the wagon Belle Smith grasped the reins of the horse hitched to the rear. Stanford started the team down the “Hole.” The wagon lurched downward. The rear horse and Belle were thrown from their feet. Recovering, she hung back, pulling on the lines with all her strength and courage. A jagged rock cut a cruel gash in her leg from heel to hip. The horse behind the wagon fell to his haunches. The half-dead animal was dragged down most of the way. The gallant woman, clothes torn, with a grievous wound, later said, “I crow-hopped right along!”  

On reaching the bottom, Stanford and Arabella heard a faint call from the children. Joseph Stanford Smith climbed to the top to get them. They were safely in place. Carrying the baby, the other children clinging to him and to each other, he led them down the rocky crack. As they approached the river’s edge, they saw five men carrying chains and ropes in the distance. The Smiths had been missed. The men were coming to help. Stanford called out, “Forget it, fellows. … Bella here is all the help a fellow needs!”   

~ Excerpts taken from G. Homer Durham, “The Future History of the Church,” Ensign, May 1982, 67. Also see David E. Miller, Hole-in-the-Rock: An Epic in the Colonization of the Great American West, Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1959, pp. 101–18.  

Amazingly Bella Smith performed the work that had previously taken 20 men to do for all the other wagons! Her undying faith gave her the strength and courage to perform a task that seemed impossible. I KNOW she was not alone on the arduous slope of jagged rock. I believe she had an army of angels helping her bear her heavy load!   

We live in perilous, troubled times, in a way much more difficult than those of our pioneer ancestors. They had a heavy physical burden of survival, while we are faced with the subtle temptations of Satan and his angels who want us to fail the test we have been given. Our trials and challenges may not always be on the outside, but may instead be battles within. The slippery slopes of trial we often bear are none more jagged and treacherous than that of Stanford and Bella Smith. ALL of us can do the impossible through our faith in Jesus Christ and His redemption. Sometimes we are required to take life by the reigns and do difficult things, but with faith in God we can be “equal to our tasks!” I bear testimony that we can have the strength to do the impossible if we have faith, trusting in His plan.  

As President Boyd K. Packer, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, said in his concluding remarks, "The Lord's voting for you, and Satan's voting against you … But your vote is the only one that counts!  "

“For behold, this life is the time for men to prepare to meet God; yea, behold the day of this life is the day for men to perform their labors.” ~ Alma 34:32

“And now as I said concerning faith—faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true.” ~ Alma 32:21

The Secret Life of Bees

2010-09-07T17:21:00.000-07:00

“The whole fabric of honey bee society depends on communication—on an innate ability to send and receive messages, to encode and decode information.” ~ The Honey Bee by James L. Gould and Carol Grant Gould

According to Sue Monk Kidd, author of the New York Times #1 best selling novel, The Secret Life of Bees, “Bees [are] considered a symbol of the soul—of death and rebirth.” The complex society of Bees depends solely on “communication” within the hive in order to achieve the ultimate goal of honey making. Their lives are a remarkable lesson on the importance of effective communication. If only we, as humans, could do as well as Bees!

Rarely does a fictional story touch me as much as this particular one did. The symbolism of the bees are woven intricately throughout the book, creating a magical narrative of a mother’s love—lost and found, and finding forgiveness. The book boldly explores life’s wounds as a young girl forges her journey toward healing, ultimately revealing the deeper meaning of home and the redemptive simplicity of “choosing what matters.” It is a story about searching for truth and healing the past.

The novel is set in South Carolina in 1964, when intensifying racial unrest and the Civil Rights Act dominated our nation’s history. Lily Owens is a 14-year-old girl being raised by her verbally and often physically abusive, neglectful father. The only mother figure in Lily’s life is her loving, yet strong-minded black housekeeper, Rosaleen. Isolated on their South Carolina peach farm, Lily spends hours imagining a blissful infancy when she was loved and nurtured by her mother, Deborah, whom she barely remembers. Lily’s memories are haunted by images of a four year old Lily holding the gun that ended her mother’s life.

The Secret Life of Bees is a powerful coming-of-age story, the often unacknowledged longing for the universal feminine divine, and the ability of unconditional love to transform our lives. While addressing the deep wounds of loss, betrayal, and lack of love, this book demonstrates the power of women coming together to heal those wounds.

“When women bond together in a community in such a way that ‘sisterhood’ is created, it gives them an accepting and intimate forum to tell their stories and have them heard and validated by others. The community not only helps to heal their circumstance, but encourages them to grow into their larger destiny.” ~ Sue Monk Kidd

Critic Luanne Rice said, “The Secret Life of Bees proves that a family can be found where you least expect it—maybe not under your own roof, but in that magical place where you find love. The Secret Life of Bees is a gift, filled with hope!”

I highly recommend it! It's truly a magical worthwhile book! Here are a few of my favorite book quotes:

“The world [is] really one big bee yard, and the same rules work fine in both places: Don’t be afraid, as no life-loving bee wants to sting you. Still, don’t be an idiot; wear long sleeves and long pants . . . [Remember] every little thing wants to be loved!” ~ Sue Monk Kidd, “The Secret Life of Bees”

“Some things don’t matter that much . . . But lifting a person’s heart—now, that matters . . . The problem is [people] know what matters, but they don’t choose it.” ~ Sue Monk Kidd, “The Secret Life of Bees”

“It’s something everybody wants—for someone to see the hurt done to them and set it down like it matters.” ~ Sue Monk Kidd, “The Secret Life of Bees”

“I couldn’t make heads or tails of my heart. One minute I hated my mother, the next I felt sorry for her . . . I’d traded in a pack of lies for a pack of truth, and I didn’t know which one was heavier. Which one took the most strength to carry around? It was a ridiculous question, though, because once you know the truth, you can’t ever go back and pick up your suitcase of lies. Heavier or not, the truth is yours now.” ~ Sue Monk Kidd, “The Secret Life of Bees”

“Every person on the face of the earth makes mistakes . . . Every last one. We’re all so human . . . There is nothing perfect . . . There is only life.” ~ Sue Monk Kidd, “The Secret Life of Bees”

“People, in general, would rather die than forgive. It’s that hard. If God said in plain language, ‘I’m giving you a choice, forgive or die,’ a lot of people would go ahead and order their coffin.” ~ Sue Monk Kidd, “The Secret Life of Bees”

You’ve Got To Please Yourself!

2010-08-23T16:52:00.000-07:00

In his hit song “I Went to a Garden Party,” 1960‘s pop singer and heart throb, Ricky Nelson, said, “It's all right now, I learned my lesson well. You see, ya can't please everyone, so ya got to please yourself!”   

Throughout our lives we meet and associate with many different types of people . . . people navigating all “walks of life,” as the old cliché goes. As we encounter bumps and bruises along life’s rocky path, it’s tough not to judge other people’s actions . . . it’s even more difficult not to judge ourselves. While other’s will automatically form their own opinions about each of us, at the end of the day we are alone with ourselves, deciding “who we really are” and “who we want to become.”   

In his book, “The Christmas Sweater,” author, Glen Beck, suggests that instead of asking, “WHAT” we want to be when we grow up . . . People should really ask “WHO” do you want to be when you grow up? What kind of person do we want to become?  ”

We can choose to live with honor, integrity, and self respect, or we can choose not to. We can decide to change and become better, or we can remain the same. It is all up to us. We are free to choose for ourselves. And while it’s easy to blame others for our present circumstances, in reality, as grown-ups, no one can make us do anything we don’t really want to do. In a sense, each of us is our own best critic and despite our blind spots, we know more about ourselves than anyone else does. We’ve been living with ourselves for a very long time.   

When we truly open our hearts with love and sincerity, seeking truth, we can see both our strengths and weaknesses—our accomplishments and the areas where we need improvement. Instead of avoiding the truth about ourselves, we should look ourselves “straight in the eye” as the well-known “people’s poet,” Edgar A. Guest, wrote almost a century ago:  

Myself 

By Edgar Albert Guest  

I have to live with myself, and so 

I want to be fit for myself to know; 

I want to be able, as days go by, 

Always to look myself straight in the eye. 

I don’t want to stand, with the setting sun, 

And hate myself for things I have done.  

I don’t want to keep on a closet shelf 

A lot of secrets about myself, 

And fool myself, as I come and go, 

Into thinking that nobody else will know 

The kind of man I really am; 

I don’t want to dress up myself in sham.  

I want to go out with my head erect, 

I want to deserve all men’s respect; 

But here in this struggle for fame and pelf, 

I want to be able to like myself. 

I don’t want to think as I come and go 

That I’m bluster and bluff and empty show.  

I never can hide myself from me; 

I see what others may never see; 

I know what others may never know, 

I never can fool myself—and so, 

Whatever happens, I want to be 

Self-respecting and conscience free.

In Times of Trouble

2010-08-13T15:08:00.000-07:00

We all have difficult challenges in life and it’s easy to judge those we don’t understand—those that are different from us. There is an old adage that says, “Don’t judge a man until you’ve waked a mile in his shoes,” and another similar saying that states, “to know someone is to love them.” Recently an old friend said in an email, “I really believe that there are just two kinds of people: the ones you love, and the ones you don't know yet.” We need to be filled with love for all of God’s children!   

Some people are definitely more difficult to love than others. But when we try to understand them in love, miracles can happen. I had an Elementary Education teacher in college that told us when dealing with difficult students to remember there is always something you can find to love about everybody . . . even if it's only to say, "I like the way your arms swing nicely from your shoulders!" It was a good tip for me to remember as a parent—during those frustrating times of child rearing, and has since become a family joke when trying to deal with difficult people.

The well known poet,   Robert Frost said, “With many things the only way out is through. Keep moving. Keep trying.”

Elder Jeffery R. Holland told the following inspirational story in a BYU Devotional on March 18, 1980. It brings home these truths about our individual worth and divine importance in God’s eyes, and how it is never to late to change!   

The brethren used to announce in LDS “General Conference” the names of those who had been called on missions to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Not only was this the way friends and neighbors learned of the calls, more often than not it was the way the missionary learned of it as well! One such prospect was Eli H. Pierce, a railroad man by trade. Eli had not been very faithful in attending Church meetings. He said he had never even read more than a few pages of scripture in his life and that he had spoken in only one public gathering (an effort which he claimed was neither a credit to himself or those who heard him). Eli bought cigars wholesale—a thousand at a time—and he regularly lost his paycheck playing pool. Well, the Lord knew what Eli Pierce was, and he knew something else . . . He knew what Eli Pierce could become.

When the call came that October day in 1875, Eli wasn’t even in the Tabernacle. He was out working on one of the railroad lines. A fellow employee, once recovered from the shock of it all, ran out to telegraph the startling news.   

Brother Pierce writes, “At the very moment this intelligence was being flashed over the wires, I was sitting lazily thrown back in an office rocking chair, my feet on the desk, reading a [disreputable] novel and simultaneously sucking on an old Dutch pipe just to vary the monotony of cigar smoking.”   He goes on. “As soon as I had been informed of what had taken place, I threw the novel in the waste basket, the pipe in a corner . . . then started into town to buy scriptures!”  

Eli Pierce fulfilled a remarkable mission. His journal could appropriately close on a completely renovated life with this one line: “Throughout our entire mission we were greatly blessed.” But Elder Holland added one more experience to make the point.  

During his missionary service, Brother Pierce was called in to administer to the infant child of a branch president whom he knew and loved. Unfortunately, the wife of the branch president had become embittered and now seriously objected to any religious activity within the home, including a blessing for this dying child. With the mother refusing to leave the bedside and the child too ill to move, this humble branch president with his missionary friend retired to a small upper room in the house to pray for the baby’s life. The mother, suspecting just such an act, sent one of the older children to observe and report back.  

There in that secluded chamber the two knelt and prayed fervently until, in Brother Pierce’s own words, “we felt that the child would live and knew that our prayers had been heard.” Arising from their knees, they turned slowly only to see the young girl standing in the partially open doorway gazing intently into the room. She seemed, however, quite oblivious to the movements of the two men. She stood entranced for some seconds, her eyes immovable. Then she said, “Papa, who was that . . . man in there?”  

Her father said, “That is Brother Pierce. You know him.”

“No,” she said, matter-of-factly, “I mean the other man.”

“There was no other, darling, except Brother Pierce and myself. We were praying for baby.”

  “Oh, there was another man,” the child insisted, “for I saw him standing [above] you and Brother Pierce and he was dressed [all] in white.”  

Elder Holland said, “Now if God in his heavens will do that for a repentant old cigar-smoking, inactive, swearing pool player, don’t you think he’ll do it for you? He will if your resolve is as deep and permanent as Eli Pierce’s!”  

Elder Holland closed by saying: “In the gospel of Jesus Christ you have help from both sides of the veil, and you must never forget that. When disappointment and discouragement strike—and they will—you remember and never forget that if our eyes could be opened we would see horses and chariots of fire as far as the eye can see riding at reckless speed to come to our protection. They will always be there, these armies of heaven, in defense of Abraham’s seed.”
~ Elder Jeffery R. Holland (“In Times of Trouble,” BYU Devotional, March 18, 1980)  

“I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels
round about you, to bear you up.” ~ D&C 84:88

The Marshmallow Experiment

2010-07-31T21:24:00.000-07:00

In the late 1960s, a four-year-old girl with long brown hair, was invited into a game room at the Bing Nursery School, on the campus of Stanford University. Although the room was little more than a large closet, containing a desk and a chair, what took place was one of the most astounding psychological studies in self-control ever performed!

Little Carolyn was asked to sit down in a chair and pick a treat from a tray of marshmallows, cookies, and pretzel sticks. Carolyn chose a marshmallow. The researcher then made Carolyn an offer: she could either eat one marshmallow right away or, if she was willing to wait while the researcher stepped out of the room for 15 minutes, she could have “two” marshmallows when he returned. He further explained that if Carolyn rang the little bell on the desk, he would come running back—allowing her to eat one marshmallow immediately, but forfeiting the second. Carolyn was left alone in the room pondering her decision of delayed gratification.

Carolyn was able to resist the temptation to eat the marshmallow immediately. However, Carolyn’s older brother, Craig, who also took part in the experiment, displayed less fortitude. Craig still remembers the torment of trying to wait. “At a certain point, it must have occurred to me that I was all by myself,” he recalls. “And so I just started taking all the candy!” According to Craig, he was also tested with little plastic toys—he could have a second one if he held out—and he broke into the desk, where he figured there would be additional toys. “I took everything I could,” he says. “I cleaned them out. After that, I noticed the teachers encouraged me to not go into the experiment room anymore.”

Footage of these experiments, which were conducted over several years, show the children as they struggle to delay gratification for just a little bit longer. Some cover their eyes with their hands or turn around so that they can’t see the tray. Others start kicking the desk, or tug on their pigtails, or stroke the marshmallow as if it were a tiny stuffed animal. One little boy looked carefully around the room to make sure that nobody could see him. Then he picked up an Oreo, delicately twisted it apart, and licked off the white cream filling. With a satisfied look on his face, he returning the cookie to the tray!

Most of the children in the experiment were like Craig. They struggled to resist the treat and held out for an average of less than three minutes. “A few kids ate the marshmallow right away,” Walter Mischel, the Stanford professor of psychology in charge of the experiment, remembers. “They didn’t even bother ringing the bell. Other kids would stare directly at the marshmallow and then ring the bell thirty seconds later.” About thirty per cent of the children, however, were like Carolyn. They successfully delayed gratification until the researcher returned. These kids wrestled with temptation, but found a way to resist!

After this interesting experiment, professor Mischel moved on to other areas of research, for, in his own words, “There are only so many things you can do with kids trying not to eat marshmallows.” But as time went on, he decided to keep track of the children. He collected surveys over the following years from the students, parents, and their instructors. He began to notice an interesting correlation: the children who could not wait struggled later in life and had more behavioral problems, while those who waited tended to be more positive and better motivated, have higher grades and incomes, and have healthier relationships!

The simple experiment that originally began with children and marshmallows, became a landmark study suggesting that the ability to wait—to be patient—is a key character trait that may predict later success in life. As parents, it brings home the need for us to help our children learn patience—encouraging the self confidence that comes from working for goals or monetary desires. If we are to teach it effectively, we must learn to delay our own instant gratification—planning for the future, being willing to wait for life’s great rewards.

We live in a world where everything is instantaneous and we love it! Waiting can be hard. We have high speed Internet, fast food, and instant messages. The answers to our immediate questions can be instantly achieved with a click of a computer mouse. We have an unlimited resourse of ideas and shopping—availavble at our fingertips, no longer neccessitating the need to “let your fingers do the walking through the yellow pages.” We want it now! And we can get it! However, in doing so, life can feel like a race we’ve entered—one we must win at all costs, like the sign humorously found on a bumper sticker: “He who has the most toys, wins!”  

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, has said, “Patience—the ability to put our desires on hold for a time—is a precious and rare virtue. We want what we want, and we want it now. Therefore, the very idea of patience may seem unpleasant and, at times, bitter. Nevertheless, without patience, we cannot please God; we cannot become perfect. Indeed, patience is a purifying process that refines understanding, deepens happiness, focuses action, and offers hope for peace.” (General Conference Priesthood Session, April 2010)

Walter Mischel’s famous marshmallow experiment is a great reminder of the need to learn to delay instantaneous gratification in a world of gain—to get the most goodies. In our rush to succeed, let’s remember the Chinese Proverb, “Good things come to those who wait!”

“Until you make peace with ‘who you are,’ you’ll never be content with what you have!” ~ Doris Mortman

The Whole Truth and Nothing But

2010-07-17T17:49:00.000-07:00

Most of us consider ourselves to be people of integrity—living a life of honesty with strong moral convictions, striving to always tell the truth. We consider ourselves a step above the occasional politician or celebrity, revealed to be leading a secret life of corruption and deceit. But what would our world be like if everybody ALWAYS told the truth? What if we simply blurted out every single thought that popped into our heads, without editing the content—the whole truth and nothing but the truth?

Recently I saw a movie called, “The Invention of Lying.” It’s not a movie I’d particularly recommend, as it was slow and poorly written, occasionally resorting to sexual humor to get a laugh. But the idea of not being able to lie—EVER, is an interesting concept to explore. How would it change our world?

The movie takes place in a fictionally based world where “lying” has not yet been invented. People openly express all their thoughts and ideas, living life on facts—things seen. Faith—belief of things not seen, is not a hypothesis yet perceived. For example when main character Anna, played by actress Jennifer Garner, is asked on a date, she says something like, “I’m not particularly attracted to you, but I’ll go because I know one day I’ll lose my looks and I’m terrified of living my life alone!”

Mark, played by comedian Ricky Gervais, is a quirky, sexually unattractive, screenwriter, about to be fired due to his boring script writing—much like this movie he wrote. He is of course in love with Anna, who judges him by his outward appearance and considers him a real loser. However, everything changes when Mark tells the first fib—an invention that he soon discovers can open doors for him that were formerly closed. He finds power and influence that he’s never experienced!

One of the interesting moments of the movie occurs when Mark’s mother is dying. Because their world is based on absolute fact and truth, the medical personnel caring for his mother, along with his mother, have no belief in an afterlife. The doctors are brutally frank when explaining the situation and make no attempt to soften the blow. Mark is distraught watching his mother suffer, who is fearful of her impending death—terrified of the unknown. So Mark calms his mother by telling her she has nothing to fear. He tells her that she is going to a beautiful place where she will be greeted by all her loved ones who previously died—a place where she will be young again, able to run and move freely. His mother relaxes and peacefully passes away. Meanwhile the doctors and nurses are completely astounded with this “new truth” and beg to know more. Soon Mark is mobbed by television reporters and crowds of people desiring the whole truth.

However, with this new theory of God—a man in the sky that can make good things happen, comes the realization that God might also be responsible for the misfortunes that also occur in their lives! No one is prepared to except the complete truth, and they quickly reject God as truth.

The movie does make you ponder the good of living in a world of complete truth. Do we really want to know the answer to, “Does this dress make me look fat?” Or are we happier living with a little less reality—a world where we decide what truths should be shared?

Perhaps when all is said and done in this world we presently live in, where integrity is constantly at risk of becoming extinct, we must first be honest with ourselves—accepting responsibility for our own choices. We may ask for advice or be given counsel from others, but ultimately we have the free agency to choose for ourselves. It has been said that, “The truth will set you free—because living a lie is no life at all.” I have great respect for all those who choose to speak the truth—the whole truth and nothing but the truth. We are inspired by their truth. They make us want to be more—become better than we are. They are life’s true heros!

* * * * *

“Memories inhabit our stories, make them breathe, give them life. So we learn to live with the reality that what we remember is an imperfect version of what we know to be true . . . Her counterfeit identity gave her a new life, but it also took its toll, requiring her to nurture the deceit, to learn the art of lying—not merely how to tell a lie, but how to live a lie, because lying was the route to survival, lying was safety. But always, always, she lived with the fear of being discovered.” ~ Quoted by author, Steve Luxenberg, in his novel “Annie’s Ghosts,” a true story

“Mom never shed her secret, and it also defined her. She did what she had to do. I suspect that Mom never intended for her secret to last a lifetime. Most of the time, we make a decision based on the circumstances at the time . . . [But] just as a cure can be worse than the disease, revelation can be more devastating than reticence. That’s the fear that seems to drive many of us to embrace silence or deception. But too often, we’re just telling one more lie, this one to ourselves.” ~ Quoted by author, Steve Luxenberg, in his novel “Annie’s Ghosts,” a true story

Definition of a Hater

2010-07-05T14:33:00.000-07:00

The word “hate” is associated with an intense feeling of dislike. It may occur in a wide variety of contexts—hatred of inanimate objects, hatred of oneself, or hatred of other people. But a “hater” is a person that simply cannot be happy for another person's success. Hater’s might not even desire to be like the person he or she hates, but taking them down a notch, with a derogatory comment or two, somehow makes a hater feel better about themselves. Rather than being happy for the other person’s achievements, a hater makes a point of exposing another’s flaws.

Don't worry about your haters or why they hate you. It’s not your problem . . . it's theirs! Just pray for them, that their life can be fulfilled. Watch out for haters . . . but most of all—don't let yourself become a hater!

Maya Angelou, an American autobiographer and poet, has been called “America's most visible black female autobiographer.” She is a new kind of memoirist—one of the first African American women to publicly discuss her personal life. Maya Angelou has became highly recognized and respected as a spokesperson for women of all races. In discusing her road to success she said, “We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” ~ Maya Angelou

Here is Maya Angelou’s famous poem depicting the definition of a “hater.” Let it be a reminder to us all to remember who we are—divine children of God, discovering our true purpose here on earth. Fulfill your dreams!

Hater
By Maya Angelou

A hater is someone who is jealous and envious and spends all their time trying to make you look small so they can look tall. They are very negative people to say the least. Nothing is ever good enough!

When you make your mark, you will always attract some haters . . . That's why you have to be careful with whom you share your blessings and your dreams, because some folk can't handle seeing you blessed.

It's dangerous to be like somebody else . . . If God wanted you to be like somebody else, He would have given you what He gave them! Right? You never know what people have gone through to get what they have.

The problem I have with haters is that they see my glory, but they don't know my story . . . If the grass looks greener on the other side of the fence, you can rest assured that the water bill is higher there too!

We've all got some haters among us! Some people envy you because you can:

Have a relationship with God.
Light up a room when you walk in.
Start your own business.
Tell a man/woman to hit the curb (if he or she isn't about doing the right thing).
Raise your children without both parents being in the home.

Haters can't stand to see you happy. Haters will never want to see you succeed. Haters never want you to get the victory . . . Most of our haters are people who are supposed to be on our side! How do you handle your undercover haters?

You can handle these haters by:

1. Knowing who you are and who your true friends are—VERY IMPORTANT!!
2. Having a purpose to your life. (Purpose does not mean having a job. You can have a job and still be unfulfilled. A purpose is having a clear sense of what God has called you to be. Your purpose is not defined by what others think about you.)
3. By remembering what you have is by divine prerogative and not human manipulation. Fulfill your dreams!

You only have one life to live . . . when its your time to leave this earth, you ‘want’ to be able to say, “I've lived my life and fulfilled ‘my’ dreams . . . Now I'm ready to go HOME!”

When God gives you favor, you can tell your haters, “Don't look at me . . . Look at ‘Who’ is in charge of me!” ~ Maya Angelou

“When we know better, we do better.” ~ Maya Angelou

Happy Days!

2010-06-26T18:22:00.000-07:00

Our Wedding Day

June 26, 1972

Love brought us together . . .  

As husband and wife,  

And gave each of us . . .  

A best friend for life!

Happy Wedding Anniversary!!

“Who says you can’t have your cake and it eat it too!”

“After 38 years in this sacred institution of marriage, I can safely say, ‘There's no one with whom I would rather be institutionalized!’”
~ Author Unknown

“What's the earth with all its art, verse, music, worth—Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?” ~ Robert Browning

Tuesday dōTERRA Tip!

2010-06-15T17:47:00.000-07:00

dōTERRA’s “Balance” and “Serenity” blends have become my best friends—a true love affair of appreciation. My Lyme disease infected arms can suddenly become stiff and ridgid, unable to move and electrically charged—like they could set off an electrical storm of fireworks on the fourth of July!

However when my friend, Balance, is applied, my arms become calm, like crysal blue water on a smooth summer lake. Amazingly this change occurs within 50 seconds after a mere two drops of my magical potion of oil. Two drops of my second best friend, Serenity, applied to the back of my neck, eases the tension of the day, helping me drift away to a dreamlike state of bliss—insuring a night of uniterruped, restful sleep.

"Balance” is a “Grounding Blend.”

We all experience moments when we feel disconnected or have a mounting level of anxiety. The warm, woody aroma of Balance has a calming action on the Central Nervous System, creating a sense of calm and well-being. When applied to the bottom of the feet or the back of the neck Balance(TM) quickly releases its harmonizing effects. It’s a blend of Spruce, Rosewood, Frankincense and Blue Tansy, offers an enticing fragrance which promotes tranquility and a sense of balance. The Balance(TM) essential oil blend can be used topically and diffused into the air.

“Serenity” is a “Calming Blend.”

Stress is a major contributor to illness and disease, in fact, it is estimated that more than 90% of all visits to health care professionals are related to stress. Serenity is a calming blend designed to accentuate these soothing properties, creating a sense of well-being and improved health through the natural reduction of stress and its related symptoms. Serenity is a blend composed of individual oils with known calming properties. Lavender, Sweet Marjoram, Roman Chamomile, Ylang Ylang, Sandalwood and Vanilla Bean create a subtle aroma ideal for aromatic diffusion or topical  application. Applied to the bottom of the feet or neck at bedtime, dōTERRA®'s Serenity is an excellent way to induce restful sleep. Added to a warm bath Serenity creates the perfect escape with its peaceful, renewing fragrance.

dōTERRA is the only company in the world that has CPTG (Certified Pure Therapeutic Grade) essential oils.

PURE—100% natural, no artificial ingredients, fragrances, or fillers.
SAFE—Certified to be free of pesticides and other chemical residues.
POTENT—Standardized active compounds.
TESTED—Tested by independent laboratories, not in-house vendors.

dōTERRA is a firm company with a solid foundation. It was built and is run on a daily basis with honesty and integrity. It is quickly becoming one of the strongest and largest companies world-wide!

The Measure of Success

2010-06-09T18:28:00.000-07:00

How do you measure success? Is it by the money you have, the clothes you wear, or the house you live in? Perhaps you measure success by the friends you have or where you stand on the ladder of popularity. Do you measure success by the number of “toys” you’ve collected or the advanced technology acquired?

We live in a world in which being successful is held high as the ultimate goal to be achieved. Worldly success is often measured by the amount of power, popularity, control, and achievements we attain. Life can be a game of competition with the underlying motto, “He who has the most toys wins!” It is human nature to want to win!  
In a commencement address given at McGill University in Montreal, Rudyard Kipling (author and poet 1865-1936) warned students against having an over-concern for money, power, or popularity. He said, “Someday you will meet a man who cares for none of these things. Then you will know how poor you are.”

Recently at my daughter’s graduation, a story titled “The Investment Banker and the Fisherman” was presented. It was a powerful parable reminder that success and happiness have little to do with fame and fortune—power or control. Wealth, power, control, and status may momentarily help us to escape emptiness, but they cannot cure it. We run into trouble when the only thing we are living for is success that is self-serving.  

True success is only achieved when we find joy in the present—the simple moments spent loving and serving our family and friends, children and grandchildren. Ultimately, love of family and our faith are the only things of importance that bring lasting fulfillment in a world geared toward gain. These are the precious gifts we take with us when we return to our Heavenly home.   

We honor our children—our posterity of whom we have always been proud—through good times and tough. You play together, help one another, and care for each other in times of need. And you lovingly devote your time and talents to us—your parents, as well. In this, we are eternally grateful. You make our lives successful!

The Investment Banker and the Fisherman  

An investment banker stood at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The banker complimented the fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.  

The fisherman replied, “Only a little while.”  

The banker then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish?   The fisherman said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs.   The banker then asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”  

The fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siestas with my wife, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine, and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life.”  

The investor scoffed, “I am an Ivy League MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats, and eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats.“ The investor continued, “And instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would then sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing, and distribution! You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then Los Angeles and eventually New York City, where you will run your expanding enterprise.”  

The fisherman asked, “But how long will this all take?”  

To which the banker replied, “Perhaps 15 to 20 years.”  

“But what then?” asked the fisherman.  

The banker laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions!”  

“Millions. Okay, then what?” wondered the fisherman.  

To which the investment banker replied, “Then you would retire. You could move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siestas with your wife, and stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.” ~ Author Unknown  

"Money never made a man happy yet, nor will it. The more a man has, the more he wants. Instead of filling a vacuum, it makes one."
~ Benjamin Franklin   

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and affection of children; to learn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a little bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Flying High on Graduation Day!

2010-05-28T14:36:00.000-07:00

“The tassel's worth the hassle!”
~ Author Unknown

Mckenzie—May 28, 2010

When Peter Pan taught Wendy, John, and Michael how to fly he sang, “I'm flying . . . Look at me—way up high, Suddenly—here am I . . . I'm flying!” On the night I watched my youngest daughter, Mckenzie’s final school play, Peter Pan, marking the closing months of her high school technical theater days, I was flying high inside with emotion. I couldn’t really explain what was happening to me at that moment in time . . . but as Peter Pan rose into the air singing those immortal words, my eyes filled with tears and I began to cry. Here was my baby—the last of my children—ready to spread her wings of independence and fly away to college. Here she was ending her high school experience by designing and lighting the memorable show of the boy who never wanted to grow-up!

Today is Graduation Day! And while I know there will be other graduations in the future for extended family members and grandchildren, I know there will never be another high school experience for one of our children. This is it—the end of an era, leaving us both joyful and melancholy at the same time. Erma Bombeck, humorous newspaper columnist from the mid 1960s to the late 1990s, perhaps expressed it best when she said, “Graduation day is tough for adults. They go to the ceremony as parents. They come home as contemporaries. After [eighteen] years of child-raising, they are unemployed!”

So in celebration of your day Mckenzie, I present the following bit of humor, a poem written and performed by Dr. Seuss at Lake Forest College’s 1977 graduation exercises, where he received an Honorary Degree. It is Dr. Seuss’ only known commencement address.

Background Story: Eugene Hotchkiss III, president of Lake Forest College from 1970 to 1993, told the background story about this memorable graduation:

“On Commencement morning, as the honored guests robed in their academic regalia, I asked Mr. Geisel if he would be willing to say but a few words, acknowledging his degree. His silence was penetrating. Finally the time came to read his citation. As Faculty Marshals stepped forth to place the hood over his head, I spoke these penultimate words, for which I must credit my wife, Sue: “We proclaim you not the ‘Cat in the Hat’ but the ‘Seuss in the Noose’.” And then I awarded him the College’s degree of Doctor of Humane Letters, honoris causa."

"At that moment, fearing his response, I shook his hand in a whisper and asked him if he would be willing to say a few words. He reached under his academic gown, announcing loudly for all to hear that it was ‘a bathrobe,’ pulled out a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and turned to the microphone. And the rest, as they say, is history!”  

On Dr. Seuss’s piece of paper were the following words:

My Uncle Terwilliger on the Art of Eating Popovers

By Theodor Geisel, a.k.a. Dr. Seuss

My uncle ordered popovers

From the restaurant's bill of fare.

And, when they were served,

He regarded them with a penetrating stare . . .

Then he spoke great Words of Wisdom

As he sat there on that chair:

“To eat these things,” said my uncle,

“You must exercise great care.”

“You may swallow down what's solid . . .

BUT . . .

You must spit out the air!”

And as you partake of the world's bill of fare,

That's darned good advice to follow.

Do a lot of spitting out the hot air

And be careful what you swallow!

~ Dr. Seuss 

[An original poem composed for the 99th Commencement of
Lake Forest College by Theodor Seuss Geisel; June 4, 1977 ]

“All our dreams can come true . . . if we have the courage
to pursue them!” ~ Walt Disney

May Babies—Lucky People!

2010-05-24T18:49:00.000-07:00

“It’s May! It’s May! The lusty month of May!
That lovely month when ev'ryone goes blissfully astray!”
~ Lyrics from “The Lusty Month of May,” Camelot

Today, on the 24th of the current lusty month of May, it snowed here in Utah! You’ve gotta love the unpredictability of this joyous month.

The saying goes that “April showers bring May flowers,” but in my family May has always showered baby girls! Three out of four daughters born to my parent’s were May babies, including me. Joyfully, my husband and I even had a lusty month baby of our own.

I have always loved being born in May, as flowers emerge beneath their winter coats and crops begin to sprout. There are people who even believe that being born in May is “lucky” because people born during the summer months seem to have a more positive outlook on life than those born during the winter months. My own great, great grandmother, Annie, was born during the summer months and they said she “always looked on the bright side of life!”

Scientists think the difference in outlook in summer month babies stems from the effect that daylight hours may have on dopamine, a brain signaling chemical, and early brain development of the fetus. At any rate, I’ve always considered myself to have a positive outlook and a good sense of humor. So I’m lucky to have been born a May baby, drawing in all that positive summer light and energy!

My daughter, Ashley, was a late May birthday gift to me. She was intended to have been an early present, but her due date came and went, along with my birth date, before she made her anticipated arrival. We’ve always teased her that she has been running a little late ever since!

I remember the day Ashley was born—as if it were yesterday. Born in the fifth month of the year, she was our fifth child and our fourth baby girl, born May 24th, just five days after my birthday. Although she was over eight pounds, she looked so little—petite, pink and cute. I couldn’t wait to take her home and go shopping for a “pretty in pink” ruffled blessing dress. For my other children—their blessing outfits were gifted, but with Ashley I was looking forward to picking out something special by myself. After having had twins prior to Ashley’s birth, one baby seemed easy—a piece of cake, and we were relaxed, cool and calm—pros at the wheel of parenting an infant. We sat back, joyously in love with our newest arrival, and just embraced our happiness. Ashley was welcomed into a home of ready made sisters and a brother, and having four older siblings meant her needs were instantly met. I don’t think we ever heard her cry hard until I weaned her at 11 months (she didn’t want to take a bottle).

I remember the day we brought Ashley home from the hospital. We had a shortened hospital stay due to flooding in Utah and water contamination. Not wanting to nurse my new baby with drinking fluids consisting of fruit juice and sugared soda pop, I opted for home. It was sunny and warm—a perfect “May” day, no need for a baby blanket of any kind. Prior to Ashley’s birth we’d built in our basement to make room for more children and because it was a beautiful day and I felt wonderful, we stopped on the way home to pick out brick for our downstairs fireplace! Afterwards we took our baby home to summer vacation and lazy summer days, quickly learning how to manage a household full of five children under nine years old.

Interestingly, the month of May was named after the goddess, Maia. In Greek mythology, Maia was the oldest of the seven daughters of Atlas—the most beautiful and also the shyest. In Roman mythology, Maia was identified with Maia Maiestas, a goddess equivalent to a goddess of spring. Like the goddesses Maia, the month of May represents the beauty of spring as it shyly comes forth to welcome the sunshine after a long winter nap. May also represents national holidays like Mother’s Day and Memorial Day. It is also home to little known celebrations like National Salad Month, National Egg Month, National Barbecue Month, National Hamburger Month, and Fungal Infection Awareness Month—now known as Lyme Disease Awareness Month.

May’s Birthstone is the “Emerald,” representative of “the green of life and enduring love!” Although almost all emeralds contain numerous flaws and cracks, these rare and valuable gemstones are the most beautiful, most intense, radiant green that can possibly be imagined. The green of the emerald is the color of life and of the springtime, but it has also for centuries been the color of beauty and of constant love. In top quality, fine emeralds are even more valuable than diamonds! I like to think that we who are May babies are much like the Emerald—beautiful, loving—rare gems, even with our numerous flaws and cracks! Hopefully—like the Emerald gemstones of May, we are still valuable in God’s eyes, even with our imperfections.

May’s Flower is the “Lily-of-the-Valley,” representative of “Faith, Courage, and Love.” The Lily-of-the-Valley is an old-fashioned delicate perennial, with tiny bell shaped flowers that bloom in the month of May. However, there is not anything delicate about this hardy shade-lover. Lily-of-the-Valley (Convallaria majalis) is a tough-as-nails perennial that will keep going after many others fail to thrive. Throughout my childhood, my dad used to loving refer to me as gentle and loving—”Linda Lamb.” I knew my parents loved me long before I knew I was a child of God—loved as His daughter. Who would have imagined that an unknown disease called “Lyme” would teach me of my true worth in His eyes and make a formerly tiny flower, tough as nails—surviving in the face of uncertainty and personal challenges!

Happy Birthday Ashley!

Here’s to my own little tough as nails beauty—a loving, lucky,
child of May!

“The world's favorite season is the spring.  
All things seem possible in May.” ~ Edwin Way Teale

It's May!

Tis like the birthday of the world, 

When earth was born in bloom,

The light is made of many dyes,

The air is all perfume:

There's crimson buds, and white and blue,

The very rainbow showers

 Have turned to blossoms where they fell,

 And sown the earth with flowers.

~ Thomas Hood, Humorist and Poet

(May 23, 1799 –May 3, 1845)

Our Deepest Fear

2010-05-18T18:04:00.000-07:00

Each of us can have two stories . . . The one we present to our family and friends, the person we desire and strive to be, and the more vulnerable story we sometimes hide . . . on the surface the same, but a story perhaps hidden with unrevealed secrets and unfathomable fears. Each story is a part of who we are. Yet sometimes the undiscovered stories hidden beneath our layers of mistrust, can lead to our deepest fears. If your loved ones discovered your secret inner thoughts and the fears of your youth, would they understand, or would they judge you without wanting to know more or understand? Perhaps there is pain, intermittently hidden, recreated into a new reality, somehow inappropriate for emotional relationships that have been set on a pedestal, desiring to be ideal.

There are secrets that we keep of little consequence, as their discovery would only prove embarrassing or humorous at most. Then there are also the secrets hidden deep within our family history, desirous to break free, yet fearful of reproach. Discovery of a family secret can be devastating to the spirit for a season, with feelings of betrayal and mistrust taking center stage. Sometimes we question the existence of the secret, even when presented with overwhelming evidence . . . denying the painful truth, wondering if instead, it is just a dream--or perhaps a nightmare.

Family secrets, the ones that are seemingly buried deep beneath the innermost places of the soul, the ones lived with, yet convinced public revelation would result in personal destruction if ever divulged, can never stay completely hidden. Somehow they are eventually unearthed, tumbling to the surface like rotting old dinosaur bones that were assumed nonexistent. Remarkably, secrets unearthed from their buried tombs of lies, bring freedom to the spirit! Where confusion dwelt—confidence, strength and courage emerge. Old secrets released lose their energy of importance, becoming powerless to their victims. It’s then we discover, as the secrets are finally revealed, that they were always a cancerous tumor growing on our souls, eating slowly away at the picture perfect facade they tried to portray—keeping us from our true identity, and basking in God’s bright light.

Marianne Williamson's widely acclaimed motivational poem, “Our Deepest Fear,” is in reality not a poem at all, but an excerpt from her book, “A Return to Love.” It has been inspiring people for decades with its profoundly resonating message about our fear of greatness, of standing out from the pack and letting our inner light shine.   If you've ever felt that paralyzing fear of stepping forward and presenting yourself to public scrutiny, you may have found your first impulse was to label it a ‘fear of failure.’ But in Our Deepest Fear, Marianne Williamson addresses the other side of that feeling. The fear of being better than your peers . . . perhaps even daring to be the best! 

Our Deepest Fear has such inspirational power that it has now become a stand-alone mantra for a generation of exceptional individuals who wish to motivate themselves and others to live up to their fullest potential. It is considered to be an anthem for a contemporary generation of positive seekers. It's a powerful message! Enjoy.

Our Deepest Fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, “Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?”

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking

so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.

And, as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give

other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our fear,

our presence automatically liberates others.

Taken From “A Return to Love,” By Marianne Williamson

Lyme Disease Awareness Month

2010-05-01T20:57:00.000-07:00

The month of May has been proclaimed as Lyme Disease Awareness Month!

As warm weather arrives and people spend more time outdoors, it becomes more important to acknowledge the impact of Lyme disease in our community, especially with the recent events in the Lehi, Utah neighborhood. However, residents who are aware of the threat can easily take steps to protect themselves. I was completely unaware of the existence of this disease 15 years ago when I unsuspectingly crossed paths with this mysterious malady.

Lyme disease is a serious bacterial infection that is commonly misunderstood. There is a widespread misperception that Lyme disease is rare or nonexistent in Utah. However the tick that spreads this disease can be carried by deer, squirrels, rodents, birds or even family pets, which means virtually no place is safe from the potential of infection.

Early indications of infection of Lyme disease can include a bull’s eye rash and flu-like symptoms. If treated immediately and appropriately, Lyme disease can usually be cured. If Lyme disease is misdiagnosed or goes untreated, it can cause long-term health problems, including neurological disorders, memory loss, crippling muscle and joint pain, disabling fatigue, psychological disorders or even death. Inflammation is a “bonfire” produced by the immune system in reaction to allergies, infections, poor diet, chemicals, heavy metals, and intestinal dysbiosis. It is the inflammatory response that produces many of the symptoms of Lyme disease.

Lyme Disease Points to Ponder:
1. Lyme disease is much more common in Utah than people realize.
2. There are documented cases of individuals (and entire families) who contracted Lyme disease while camping in our local mountains.
3. There is a Lyme Disease support group in Utah that meet every month to provide to provide patients and families with support and education.
4. There are VERY FEW Lyme literate healthcare providers in Utah. Many patients are forced to go out of state for treatment.
5. Lyme disease is the most widespread vector-borne disease in the USA and is a major problem worldwide. Ticks know no borders and respect no boundaries. A patient's county of residence does not accurately reflect his or her Lyme disease risk.
6. In 2007, 27,244 cases of Lyme disease were reported to the Center for Disease Control (CDC). That is 2,287 cases per month, 571 cases each week, 77 cases per day, and 3 people each hour.
7. Lyme disease is under-reported. Of the reported cases only approximately 23,000 per year meet the strict criteria. The CDC has gone on record saying that they estimate the official cases reported may be 10% of the total number of cases that would be accepted if all cases were reported, so 230,000 new cases per year is likely the reality.
8. Fewer than 50% of patients with recall a tick bite. In some studies this number is as low as 15% in culture-proven infection with the Lyme spirochete. Adult deer ticks are about the size of sesame seeds.
9. Lyme disease has been frequently misdiagnosed, especially in absence of the rash, as MS, ALS, Chronic Fatigue, Fibromyalgia, Autism, Alzheimer's, Parkinson's and others. Lyme disease is often referred to as “The Great Imitator,” as it can virtually imitate any symptom of any disease.
10. Lyme disease is the most common tick-borne disorder in the United States. Lyme disease can affect the joints, nervous system, heart, skin, and eyes.

Reducing Your Exposure to Ticks—Your Best Defense:  
1. Avoid Tick Infested Areas: Ticks prefer wooded and bushy areas with tall grass and leaf litter. When you do enter tick areas, walk in the middle of trails to avoid contact with overgrown grass, bushes, and leaf litter. 
2. Dress Appropriately: Wear long pants, long-sleeve shirts, and long socks to keep ticks off your skin. Wear white or light-colored clothing making it easier to spot ticks. Wear a hat and tie back long hair. Always wear shoes (no bare feet or sandals). Tuck pant legs into socks or boots and tuck shirts into pants to help keep ticks outside of clothing. Taping the area where your pants and socks meet can prevent ticks from crawling under clothes. Do not sit directly on the ground or near stone walls. 
3. Tick Repellents: Spray tick repellent on clothes and shoes before entering areas infested with ticks. 
4. Check for Ticks: Perform daily tick checks after being outdoors, even in your own yard. You should also inspect your pets. Carefully inspect all parts of your clothing, skin, and body including: armpits, back of the knee, nape of the neck, navel area, scalp, and groin area. Remove any ticks before they become engorged (swollen with blood).  

What If I Find a Tick? 
1. If you do find a tick imbedded in your skin, do NOT panic. Not all ticks are infected. Infected ticks normally cannot begin transmitting the spirochete (the bacterium that causes Lyme disease infection) until it has been attached for about 36-48 hours. 
2. Keep in mind, if you do find a deer tick attached to your skin that has not yet become engorged, it probably has not been there long enough to transmit Lyme disease infection. 
3. You should remove a tick immediately! However, improper tick removal increases the chance of the tick transmitting infection. To remove a biting tick, grasp it as close to the skin as possible with fine-pointed tweezers and pull straight out slowly and steadily. Disinfect the bite site and SAVE THE TICK for possible testing. Ticks can be tested easier than humans.  
4. Avoid crushing or squishing the tick's body. Avoid getting tick fluids on your skin. 
5. Never use petroleum jelly, mineral oil, matches, nail polish, or other products to remove a tick. Removal methods such as these could actually backfire, causing the tick to excrete or regurgitate out bacteria.

When to Take Antibiotics: (If you answer “yes” to any of the following questions.) 
1. Were you in an area where Lyme disease is common when you acquired the tick bite? 
2. Was the tick attached for at least one full day? 
3. Has it been less than three days since you removed the tick or since it fell off? 
4. Do you feel strangely tired, flu-like, or achy all over since you were bitten?

A Big Fish!

2010-04-27T21:47:00.000-07:00

My Dad—The Brad Pitt, “River Runs Through It” of his Day!

Dad’s Big Fish

Today is my father’s 88th Birthday. Dad could be referred to as “a big fish” in the little fishbowl of life. He has always loved to fish. While my mother has always had deep faith and a connection to the preexsistence, giving her children spiritual roots, my father has always been connected to the beauty of God’s rich earth. He has given us laughter with his dry sense of humor. Together they have given us the strength to endure the hardships and sorrows of life that have come to our family in numerous ways.

As a child, Dad made toy rabbits from the red clay soil near the river by his Logan, Utah home. As an adult, he enjoyed the splendor of his earthly home through gardening, landscaping, cement mixing, carpentry, and raising multitudes of animals such as rabbits, chickens, horses and cows. Dad was a master sportsman in his younger years, enjoying hunting, fishing, snow skiing, and water skiing. In the early days of water skiing he mastered jumping off the dock on one ski and holding the ski rope in his toe and in his teeth! If there was a motto Dad has always subscribed to in this life it would probably be, “Work, Work, Work!” He has always worked hard and been an excellent provider. Work has been his play.

High priority on my dad’s list of talents has been his lifetime love of fishing. Fishing, and his great love for the sport, has soared foremost above all of his other passions and interests. He and his father and two brothers more than likely fished every fishing hole from Utah to Wyoming. His delightful tall tales of the biggest fish that got away and his other fish related adventures, will forever bring a smile to those of us who love him dearly.

Now in the declining years of their lives, my parents have new challenges and trials that must be faced. Yet, as we search for answers and wonder why, we are reminded of the legacy of strength we have been given to endure to the end. My father has always been a simple man, completely honest, hardworking, and faithful. He is one of God’s finest, a true and noble Son of God.

My mother always said she could write a book about my father’s tall tales and amusing anecdotes about life, but she could never really capture his true essence. Instead, following a life threatening illness of her own, she used her recuperation time to recreate and write down a few chapters of Dad’s life. Gratefully, she has given them to me to share with their posterity when the time comes.

I have tender feelings for my dad—truly a big fish in his daughter’s eyes. Because of my limited mobility and health challenges I am unable to physically visit him. However, from the comments of my children and other family members who have visited him, I am aware of my father’s present condition following a stroke—a limited concept of time and places, and a mental challenge, bordering somewhere between Alzheimers and dementia. But even though he cannot remember everything in his past and has difficulty communicating, I believe his spirit is fully aware of what is going on around him. I know his spirit responds to those who love him as they visit, with a spirit to spirit connection. His granddaughter, Ashley said, “His eyes light up when his family enters the room. Even though he is pleasant and kind to his caregivers, it is obvious he feels a spirit to spirit connection when his family is there.”

When my mother had her stroke—one she miraculously recovered from—she experienced conversations that could only be explained as spirit to spirit dialog. Although she was unable to talk and others were not talking directly to her, she remembers very specific conversations she had with others in the room—a “spirit to spirit” connection.

Last year on Father’s Day, my sister’s and I decided to send my dad an ipod, fully loaded with his favorite coyboy music, hoping to stimulate his mind and bring him joy. How much of the music he actually remembered is unclear, but he felt the love connection given through his spirit . . . of this I am certain. When he took the telephone to try and express his thanks, he was overcome with sweet emotion, unable to speak any words at all. He said my name, and then just cried. In that moment we had a spirit to spirit connection and words were unneccessary. I felt his love and I knew he felt a daughter’s love for him. Filling my father’s ipod with music, researching his era of old songs, was truly a gift to me—bringing my father back home to me. As a kid I didn’t care for the country twang of his old favorites, but when rediscovering them again, I relished in memories of days gone by, reliving the music he loved to sing on his guitar. I still smile thinking about it and keep his favorites on my own ipod. “There was blood on the saddle, and blood all around . . . And a great big puddle of blood on the ground!” (Tex Ritter)

I know there will be a missing piece in our hearts when Dad hangs up his final ‘Gone Fishin’ sign and returns to his Heavenly home and his Savior, fisher of men. Surely there is a great mansion prepared there for such a man of love and strength, where he can continue his great work among men, a new fish in a Heavenly sea.

A Fisherman's Prayer

I pray that I may live to fish,  Until my dying day.

And when it comes to my last cast,

I then most humbly pray:

When in the Lord's great landing net,

And peacefully asleep,

That in His mercy I be judged,

Big enough to keep!

“Love you Dad. Happy Birthday!”

Got Thyme? You Need It!

2010-04-22T18:01:00.000-07:00

“Happy Earth Day” (April 22)

Think "green" when you clean—make a natural cleaning solution with dōTERRA Thyme essential oil.

Homemade Eco-friendly Cleaner with Thyme:
1. Fill a spray bottle with two cups of water.
2. Add 25 drops dōTERRA Thyme essential oil.
3. Add 2 tsp. Castile (natural soap).
4. Use on hard-to-clean bathroom and kitchen surfaces.

Did you know that researchers at the Technological Educational Institute of Ionian Islands in Greece tested essential oils against drug-resistant staph (MRSA, aka a super-bug)? Thyme essential oil killed almost all of the bacterium within an hour! (Read the article here.)

Thyme (Thymus vulgaris CT thymol), familiar to most as a common seasoning for cooking, produces an essential oil that has valuable cleansing and clarifying properties. It is also notable for its broad-spectrum activity for winter health. Thyme is considered by many herbalists to be a very nearly perfect herb. It ranks as one of the finest herbs of French cuisine. The general rule of using herbs in cooking is - when in doubt use thyme! dōTERRA’s CPTG Thyme Essential Oil comes from thyme plants grown and harvested in Germany.

How to Use dōTERRA Thyme Essential Oil:
1. Apply topically; dilute thyme with dōTERRA’s fractionated coconut oil before applying, as it may cause skin sensitivity.
2. Diffuse; add 1-2 drops to diffuser. Can be blended with other oils as an air purifier (Lemon or Citrus Bliss is ideal).
3. Add as an ingredient to homemade cleaners for deep cleaning in the home or office.
4. Use internally; dilute and add to a gelatin capsule. Can also be added to foods as a seasoning. (Note: Use a toothpick to swirl in the flavor, not a full drop, as it is very concentrated.)
NOTE: Avoid eye contact when using any essential oils.

Double the Trouble, Twice the Fun!

2010-04-21T15:43:00.000-07:00

Our Twin Surprise

Double the trouble, twice the fun,

Our life with twins had just begun.

Double the hands, twice the feet,

It’s a wonder we ever got any sleep.

Twice the diapers, giggles, and curls,

Double the joy—with two baby girls!

~ By Linda Ottley

Thirty-one years ago on April 21, 1979, we had the surprise of our lives. Twins! Suddenly we went from having two children, to being parents of four children, when two baby girls entered our world all at once! Prior to their birth I’d had a dream that I was on the delivery table and as my baby arrived someone said, “There are two babies.”

As it turned out, my dream was more like a revelation! Following the first birth the doctor said, “The head is little . . . there must be another one!” Amazingly enough, without prior confirmation or benefit of ultrasound, both babies were healthy, weighing in at over seven pounds each! Dale called his mom and teasingly announced we had a 14 lb. 7 oz. baby (their combined birth weight of 7 lb. 3 oz. and 7 lb. 4 oz.).

Having twins back in 1979 was still unusual and we caused quite a commotion in the hospital—especially when the only anesthesiologist was so busy with us that others delivered cold turkey! We caused a ripple of excitement in our families as well. My sister, Judy, who had four little children under six-years-old at the time, called my hospital room to congratulate me saying, “Linda, you had twins . . . I’m so sorry!”

I replied, “Oh, I’m so excited! I’ve always wanted twins!”

“Oh—good then,” she said. “I’m glad it was you. Because if it was me, I’d have slit my wrists!” It still makes me smile remembering.

We decided to name our first born twin, “Rachel”—after my grandmother’s first name, and our second born twin, “Elizabeth”—after Grandma Rachel’s middle name. Two equally beautiful names for two beautiful babies! I remember dressing them to go home—with my husbands help—in matching pink outfits, booties, and blankets . . . lovingly purchased by my sister, Vicki, and my mom. We were laughing and giggling, struggling to dress two wiggling babies, who were screaming their heads off to be nursed! We took them home to their five year old brother, Cord, and their three year old sister, Aleesha—each getting their own baby in their room, no one having to share!

Having twins was a unique and wonderful experience. It changed our lives in numerous ways. We learned to be organized and to work together as a team, changing, burping, and feeding. During the night my sole purpose was to create enough milk to satisfy. I drank tons of water and Raspberry herb tea. Dale was the receiver, getting the “crier” from her crib, changing, burping, and tucking each bundle back in bed. When they began waking up at the same time we discovered the “twin nursing hold,” cradling one baby in each arm. Soon it became the preferred method—affording us more sleep by feeding two at once. I can’t say we were always coherent during our nightly routine, as sometimes in the morning the babies were in the wrong cribs. But everything that cried, ate—of this I am sure. Having twins was a spiritual awakening, realizing my value and God given worth in the kingdom of God, entrusted with two precious spirits at once.

Happy Birthday baby girls. You've added more “sugar and spice” to our lives!

Tuesday dōTERRA Tip!

2010-04-13T19:04:00.000-07:00

Every woman with young children knows that flu and cold season turns us into “Doctor Mom” out of necessity! So here’s six essential dōTERRA oils that every Dr. Mom needs to have on hand. It’ll makes waking up in the middle of the night okay, because it won’t be happening for long. Be happy. Stay healthy!

1. On Guard: On Guard helps prevent the onset of illness. Rub 1-2 drops on your feet daily (or diffuse in the air) during flu and cold season to protect and increase the immune system response.

2. Breathe: Respiratory issues are a big concern during the colder months and are an ongoing concern for those with asthma. This wonderful oil blend can be rubbed directly on the chest to relieve breathing and coughs. 

3. Lemon: Put 1-3 drops in water to keep the body cleansed, so the immune response can be at it’s best (even children respond well to this).

  4. Basil or Oregano: Use these on your feet often when illness occurs. Try these first for any antibiotic needs. Basil is more gentle on the body and a better choice for young children. However, Oregano is a powerful oil for viruses and those nasty winter and springtime germs. Use a good carrier oil, like Fractured Coconut Oil or Olive Oil, when applying Oregano anywhere other than on the feet, as there can be a burning sensation on the skin. Note: For any intense reaction from any essential oil, rub in a carrier oil on top to dilute. 

5. Digest-Zen: Stomachaches, nausea, and even heartburn or acid reflux can take its toll. Keep a bottle of Digest-Zen handy all the time. Let your kids rub Digest-Zen on their own tummies and put it in their water if needed—to keep the bowels moving and allow the body to focus on immune response.  

6. Deep Blue: It's great to have Deep Blue since we, as parents, frequently encounter sore muscles and pain discomfort, due to everyday activities or chronic conditions. It is now available in an easy to apply roll on too.

Probiotic Suggestion: dōTERRA’s “PB Assist” is an effective probiotic guaranteed to provide a minimum of 1 billion CFUs (colony-forming units) of live bacteria per dose. It is safe for use by all members of your family, keeping good bacteria flourishing in the gut so the body can fight almost anything! Swallow this tiny pill or hide it in a bite of oatmeal or applesauce for small children.

“Remember, the oils don’t fight disease, the oils ‘assist the
body’ to fight off disease. Use the oils to assist the
body to do what it was meant to do!” ~ Dr. Hill

Discover dōTERRA 100% pure therapeutic-grade essential oils. Nature at it's finest, naturally safe. www.mydoterra.com/lindaoils

When I’m An Old Lady

2010-04-07T16:04:00.000-07:00

Happy 88th Birthday Mom!

Mom’s Junior Prom Formal

“What is real?” asked the Rabbit, one day when they were lying side by side. “Does it mean hearing things that buzz inside you and a stick out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you’re made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you when a child loves you for a long, long time . . . really loves you, then you become real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up, or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or 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 at the joints. But these things don’t matter at all because once you are real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.” ~ Excerpt taken from “The Velveteen Rabbit,” by Margery Williams

* * * * *

Today is my mother’s 88th birthday! She was born in the early years of the twentieth century, living through World War II and the Great Depression. She has buried two of her five children, something parents never expect to do, or should have to do, before they go. She has also been loved by her childhood friend and sweetheart, marrying when they were both at the tender age of 19—young and naive, eager to make their mark in the world and raise a family together. Her talents are numerous—blessing the lives of her children and various grandchildren. Over the years she has spent many late nights sewing new clothes, costumes, prom dresses, bridesmaid’s dresses, and wedding gowns. She has traveled some and seen some far away places, experienced moments of glory and fame, and been loved by her spouse and their posterity. And when all is said and done that is enough. In the famous iconic words of author Nicholas Sparks in “The Notebook,” “I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.”

My mother-in-law gave me this poem many years ago. She was always cheerful and lighthearted and had the ability to find humor in the challenges of an aging body. We miss her. So in celebration of my own mother, who now needs assistance and lives with my older sister, I thought I’d post this very funny poem about aging and living with your kids. Happy Birthday Mom!

“Mother—you may have difficulty seeing and perhaps you’re getting a little loose in the joints when you walk, but like the Velveteen Rabbit, you can never be ugly when you’re loved.”

When I'm An Old Lady

By Joanne Bailey Baxter

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with each kid,

And bring so much happiness just as they did.

I want to pay back all the joy they've provided.

Returning each deed! Oh, they'll be so excited!

When I'm an old lady and live with my kids…

I'll write on the walls with reds, whites, and blues,

And bounce on the furniture—wearing my shoes.

I'll drink from the carton and then leave it out.

I'll stuff all the toilets and oh, how they'll shout!

When I'm an old lady and live with my kids...

When they're on the phone and just out of reach,

I'll get into things like sugar and bleach.

Oh, they'll snap their fingers and then shake their head,

And when that is done, I'll hide under the bed.

When I'm an old lady and live with my kids...

When they cook dinner and call me to eat,

I'll not eat my green beans or salad or meat.

I'll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,

And when they get angry—I'll run—if I'm able!

When I'm an old lady and live with my kids...

I'll sit close to the TV—through the channels I'll click.

I'll cross both eyes just to see if they stick.

I'll take off my socks and throw one away,

And play in the mud 'til the end of the day!

When I'm an old lady and live with my kids...

And later in bed, I'll lay back and sigh,

I'll thank God in prayer and then close my eyes.

My kids will look down with a smile slowly creeping,

And say with a groan, “She's so sweet when she's sleeping!”

When I'm an old lady and live with my kids!

An Oldie But a Goodie!

2010-03-26T16:28:00.000-07:00

“Dedicated to the One I Love”

(1967 hit pop song by ‘The Mamas and the Papas’)

Now

Then 

Happy 60th Birthday Dale!

12 Reasons Why . . .
Being an Oldie is a Goodie: 

1. Your failing eyesight saves you the anguish of watching your body disintegrate.  

2. Your continuing hernia operations give you more in common with your peer group.

3. You’re a champ at history questions, since you were alive during most of it.

4. You don’t need to make a big effort to be interesting and stylish anymore. People expect you to be boring and frumpy. 

5. Your failing memory allows you to convince yourself that you’re still handsome and super sexy. 

6. You preserve family history by talking about the good old days when you were a kid. 

7. You hear your favorite songs in the elevator and during medical office visits. 

8. You are well informed as you listen incessantly to talk radio and regularly watch the Weather Channel. 

9. There isn’t a generation gap between you and your grand-baby. You both take naps throughout the day. 

10. 90% of the time that you spend in front of the computer is for real work. 

11. Your former “get up and go” just “got up and went.” But you smile and you grin, when you think where it’s been! 

12. You’ve read this entire list, desperately looking for one sign that doesn't apply to you and can't find one. But it doesn’t really matter anyway, because you won’t remember reading this by tomorrow!

The Starfish Theory

2010-03-18T17:32:00.000-07:00

Legend of the Starfish

Adapted from “The Star Thrower” by Loren Eiseley (1907-1977)

A vacationing businessman was walking along a beach when he saw a young boy in the distance that appeared to be moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance joyfully to the day, and walked faster to catch up.

As he got closer, he noticed that the young boy was not dancing at all. Instead he was reaching on to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean. It soon became apparent that there were many starfish along the shoreline that had been washed up by the tide, that would surely die before the evening tide returned. So the boy was walking slowly along the shore, occasionally reaching down to the sandy beach, and tossing a beached starfish back into the ocean.

As the businessman got closer to the boy he called out, “Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?”

The young man paused, looked up, and replied, “I’m throwing starfish into the ocean. The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don't throw them in, they'll die.”

“You have a good heart young man,” the businessman replied, “but do you realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish along every mile? You can't possibly make a difference!”

The boy looked up at that man, and then he looked down at a starfish by his feet. He picked up the starfish, and as he gently tossed it back into the ocean, he said, “I made a difference to that one.”

* * * * *

I have always been enamored by the unique simplicity of the Starfish, one of the most strikingly beautiful creatures of God’s underwater creations. Their beauty is magnified only by their interesting characteristics of five or more arms, and an often spiky appearance used for protection. Starfish are also known as “sea stars” and are not really fish at all, despite the name that has been given to them. These echinoderms are found in abundance in various patterns of bright colors and stripes, in deep blue seas as well as shallow waters.

In the story of “The Star Thrower” the sea stars that have been washed up on the beach are struggling to stay alive until the tide can carry them back home. Like the starfish, we are all His children, each one unique and loved like the other. We come in different sizes, shapes, and colors, each with varied personalities and viewpoints. We too are struggling, each with our own life challenges, learning and growing, trying to make it back to our Heavenly home.

In my extended family, we are each struggling on the sandy beach of life, trying to love one another, trying to make a difference, and trying to face our trials with dignity, while hoping to make it safely back home to the loving arms of our Father in Heaven. I have always been “Switzerland” in my family of sea stars, usually preferring to remain neutral, avoiding direct confrontation. The other sea stars are used to my family role, where problems and complaints can be aired without fear of retaliation. Switzerland sea star had become proficient in allowing other’s opinions to wash over her protected surface, nodding as if in agreement, even when viewpoints are not shared.

Recently however, I had an experience with extended family that become “messy,” to say the least. For one of the first times in my life, I drew a line in the sand, standing up for what I believed was morally ethical, voicing my true opinion instead of being "Switzerland Sea Star," avoiding the expected house of hostility that would surely follow if I voiced my truth. I had assumed we were all part of a team, working for the common good, each with a unique role in the care of our aging parents. Suddenly, without warning, I was hit with the reality that I had taken my role as financial adviser more seriously than was expected. It was made painfully clear to me by the rejection I experienced by one particular sea star, that I was only a volunteer "bill payer," and anything more was not appreciated or desired. Anything more was not my responsibility.

Nonetheless, finding my voice of differing opinion has changed the core dynamics of my extended family and I have discovered that some of the other sea stars “needed” my silence in order to believe their opinions were shared by the majority, therefore retaining their desired power. Finding my voice was oddly “freeing” after years of unsaid opinions came rolling in with the afternoon tide. Unfortunately, like the starfish, my older sibling’s protective spiky shell came out in self defense and I felt her immediate rejection of my opinion as she struggled to justify her actions. I felt clouded with feelings of insignificance and low self worth.

I searched my heart in prayer, wondering if my Father in Heaven was pleased with my stand of truth. My answer came in the form of a blessing given by a faithful home teacher, fulfilling his priesthood duty. He was not aware of anything going on in my life, yet I was not prepared for the remarkable words that came from his mouth. I KNEW they were not his words. I can't even adequately express what they meant to me or the impression they made on my soul, as this treasured friend became God’s instrument, picking my struggling sea star from off the beach of sand, and gently throwing me back into the ocean where God’s gentle grace blessed me with loving words of courage, strength, and confidence. My joy was unspeakable! Unexpectedly I was told that my voice should never be silent again from that day on, as I learned and grew as His child of God.

Family comes to us from different places, and just as the star fish on the shore were struggling to get back in the sea, we are His children striving to feel His love and to know that we are each individually important to Him. So he sends another’s hands, like the small boy on the beach, to guide us back into His loving arms when we lose our way.

The story of “The Star Thrower” is a classic story from 1979, written by Loren Eiseley, both a scientist and a poet, and hailed as a modern day Henry David Thoreau. To this day his writing is the subject of much discussion and inspiration. The Star Thrower is a powerful story of the potential within each one of us to make a difference in the lives of others. It is a gentle reminder that we should be here for each other, to give service, even in small ways, whenever we can.

In such turbulent times as these, when we may often feel alone and small, unable to make any lasting changes in our lives, we may find ourselves asking, “What can I do that will make a difference? What can one person like me do?”

In reality we don't have to be rich, talented or even particularly intelligent to make a difference in the life of another. We just need to remember that we are all here for a purpose, and that making small changes in the world, eventually adds up to something bigger in the life of another.

No matter how small your action might be, it makes a difference to someone! One person can change the reality of another. When we become throwers of the stars, we too, have the power to change the world.

Tuesday Tip: Discover dōTERRA!

2010-03-09T18:56:00.000-08:00

Over the years, like others with similar chronic health issues and few medical solutions, I have tried an abundance of pills, potions, and promising protocols on my journey towards the often mystifying highway of health. In any Lyme disease support group in the country you can find a multitude of conflicting protocols and opinions for this interesting condition that continues to be a political controversy of differing attitudes and ideas.

Yet, in spite of the confusion, there are generous, caring people who continuously enter my life, sharing their knowledge and giving enlightenment. For these adventurous souls I am grateful daily. They have enriched my life and taken part in showing me who I am.

The difficulty with the mass of symptoms that accompany Lyme disease is in finding solutions that the body will embrace. Solutions to the lack of nutrient giving vitamin and minerals that refuse to be absorbed. Solutions building the immune system into a powerful warrior willing to fight back.

Discover dōTERRA Essential Oils! Essential Oils . . . two little words I heard in passing so many years ago. But there was much to learn and miles to grow before I would come to really know and understand. I was searching for a magical potion, a miracle pill, impatient to continue the life I’d led. However, there are lessons to be learned, some for ourselves, and some for those who touch our lives. But when we become open to new ideas and possibilities, the knowledge comes pouring down faster than we can comprehend.

I’ve discovered “all are not equal” in the world of essential oils. All are not made with integrity. All are not 100% certified pure, therapeutic grade essential healing oils, able to absorb into the bloodstream within 50 seconds. Able to change the cells and gently help the body restore itself to it’s former healthy state without the devastating side affects so common in our pharmaceutical dependent world.

dōTERRA (CPTG) Certified Pure Therapeutic Grade® essential oils represent the safest, purest, and most beneficial essential oils available today. They are gently and skillfully distilled from plants that have been patiently harvested at the perfect moment by experienced growers from around the world for ideal extract composition and efficacy. Experienced essential oil users will immediately recognize dōTERRA's superior quality standard for naturally safe, purely effective therapeutic-grade essential oils.

So in recognition of “National Sleep Awareness Month” here’s my “Tuesday Tip!”

Use dōTERRA’s “Lavender” essential oil to increase the quality of your sleep! A few drops of Lavender in the palms of your hands and cupped over the nose can quickly and easily eliminate stress and anxiety. When the body reaches the deepest stages of sleep your immune system runs its renewal cycle. If you are not able to reach the deepest stages of sleep, your immune system will be weak.

Try These Simple Tips:
1. Add a few drops of Lavender essential oil to a spray bottle, mix with water, and spritz on your pillows and bed linen.
 2. Massage a few drops of Lavender essential oil into the bottom of your feet before going to bed.  
3. Add a few drops of Lavender essential oil to your kids’ bath water to help them relax and unwind before going to bed.
 4. Place a diffuser filled with 6-10 drops of Lavender essential oil in your bedroom and diffuse 30 minutes before retiring for the evening. 

Note: Lavender can also be applied directly to cuts, abrasions, and burns for a disinfecting and healing action. 

Stress is a major contributor to illness and disease. dōTERRA’s “Serenity” is also a calming blend designed to accentuate it’s soothing properties, creating a sense of well being and improved health through the natural reduction of stress and its related symptoms. For those who don't enjoy the floral scents of Lavender or Serenity, put 2 drops of Roman Chamomile, Bergamont, and Frankincense on the feet to relax and combat the effects of stress on the body. Find out more here.

All My Children

2010-02-27T17:50:00.000-08:00

Aleesha Elaine, 3 Years Old

“Babies are always more trouble than you thought,
and more wonderful!” ~ Charles Osgood

This past week, on February 24th, my daughter, Aleesha had a birthday. She was born in 1976, which is amazing to me, as it seems like yesterday. Has it really been 34 years? Aleesha’s name was a favorite of mine, derived partly from an actresses' name on a soap opera I watched back then called, “All My Children.” Aleesha’s middle name, Elaine, belonged to Dale’s mom, altogether a beautiful combination of names.

I can’t believe it’s been over 34 years since I first held my new baby daughter in my arms. She arrived a few days early, having been expected on the 29th, doomed to be a leap year baby with a fluctuating birth date. Good planning on her part to come ahead of schedule.

Aleesha was the first of five little girls who would become their older brother’s best friend, sometimes tormentor, and ultimately care about and babysit his own children. I knew she would be a girl because of a dream I had before her brother, Cordale, was born. We had called him "Aleesha" for almost the whole nine months of pregnancy. Somehow I could never picture myself being a good mother to a boy! I didn't understand boys! I'd grown up with only one brother. However, right before Cord was born, in the days before Ultrasound, I dreamt I had two little children. One was a boy and the other a girl, and the little boy was just a little taller than the girl. It was then I realized my first baby would be a boy, preparing the way for his baby sister, still to come.

Aleesha was always mature for her age, as she rushed to grow up and keep up with her older brother. She was the earliest to walk of all our children (10 months), even with a broken leg at seven months that slowed her progress by a month. She served a mission in Brazil for the LDS Church at age 21, and with her fair inherited Scandinavian skin and light blond hair, she truly stood out among men! She is a loving mother to many, teaching third grade now for 10 years now. Her creatively and numerous talents make her a popular teacher and an asset to the teaching profession. She is a wonderful sister, aunt, and daughter to our family. I am proud to be the one she calls mother.

As a young girl I loved the books, followed by their movies titled, “Cheaper By the Dozen,” and “Bells on Their Toes,” all about a big noisy family with twelve children! I told everyone I wanted to have a dozen children, but I didn’t want to get married! I guess I was too young and naive to understand why this was a little disturbing to my parents, friends, and other family members. Fortunately, things turned out differently.

An anonymous quote I recently discovered says, “We shape our lives not by what we carry with us, but what we leave behind.” What I will leave behind after this life is the posterity I have been blessed with, and like the black, cursive carved letters on my bookshelf that say, “Blessed,” I am reminded daily of the gratitude I feel for the family I have been blessed with. I am blessed with unconditional love from my self-sacrificing husband, six talented service oriented children, their amazing spouses and my adoring grandchildren.

Having children was my greatest desire growing up and I expected it to be nothing less than ruffle bottomed panties, pink hair bows, shiny clean new penny faces, and organized wonderment. If I had been foretold about sleepless nights, worry over a sick child, and all the pressure, demands and chaos that go along with motherhood, perhaps I would have reconsidered. However, I would have missed out on an incredible experience and grown children who are now cherished friends. There is nothing like the smell of a newborn baby, fresh from heaven, with that soft little head lying on your shoulder. And there is nothing that equals sharing the joys and sorrows of each passing year of their lives.

If not for children, I would not have discovered who I am, or my potential in life. Instead I would have remained my "grubby old self," self absorbed, not knowing the joy of loving someone more than yourself. It has been more than wonderful!

My feelings about motherhood are reflected in this simple verse by Anne Campbell, written on behalf of her child.

You are the trip I did not take; 

You are the pearls I cannot buy; 

You are my blue Italian lake; 

You are my piece of foreign sky. 

(“To My Child,” Quoted in 'The Treasure Chest,' 1965, 54)

How Do I Love Thee?

2010-02-14T20:09:00.000-08:00

Our Engagement (April 24, 1972)

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach . . .” These famous romantic words, penned by poet, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, are considered to be some of the most unconditional words of love, transcending all love throughout history.

Recently I had an opportunity to ponder this author’s life when I saw on old black and white 1930’s movie on television called, “The Barretts of Wimpole Street.” Elizabeth Barrett was born in England in 1806, the oldest of twelve children. She was well educated and read Shakespearean plays, among other great works, before the age of ten. By her twelfth year she had written her first “epic” poem, which consisted of four books of rhyming couplets. However, by the age of fourteen, Elizabeth developed a lung ailment that plagued her for the rest of her life. Doctors began treating her with morphine, which she would take until her death. In addition, at age fifteen, while saddling a pony, Elizabeth suffered a spinal injury. Despite her ailments, her education continued to flourish. She had a passionate enthusiasm for her Christian faith and taught herself Hebrew so that she could read the Old Testament.

In 1828, when Elizabeth was 22 years old, her beloved mother died, leaving her in the hands of her tyrannical father. Following this tragedy Elizabeth’s much-loved brother, Edward, also died, drowning in a sailing accident. Distraught and overcome with sadness, Elizabeth became an invalid and a recluse, spending the next five years in her bedroom at her father's home. She continued writing, however, and in 1844 produced a collection entitled simply “Poems.” This volume gained the attention of the famous poet, Robert Browning, whose work Elizabeth had praised in one of her poems, and he wrote her a letter.

Elizabeth and Robert exchanged 574 letters over the next twenty months! Unfortunately, their romance was bitterly opposed by Elizabeth’s father, who did not want any of his children to marry. So in 1846, the couple eloped and settled in Florence, Italy, where Elizabeth's health improved with Robert’s loving care and devotion. Elizabeth bore a son, her only child, three years later at the age of 43. Her father never spoke to her again.

Her poem “How Do I Love Thee?” was part of a collection of Sonnets written in secret before her marriage. The poem expressed her secret thoughts of her unconditional love for Robert, long before their mutual feelings were known. It was published in 1850, eleven years before Elizabeth Barrett Browning died in Florence on June 29, 1861.

Once my sister, Vicki, told me I was more fortunate than most, to have known, pure, unconditional love. I was taken by surprise by her comment, having never really thought about it before. I suppose it is easy to take for granted those rarest of gifts, having always possessed them. However, my husband, Dale, has always loved me unconditionally, even before we united and became as one.

Unconditional love—real love—is caring about the happiness of another person without any thought for what we might get for ourselves. It is a concept comparable to “true love” and said to be the greatest power known to man. Mystics, singers and poets have all expressed ballads of love—love that can fill us up, make us whole, and give us the happiness we all want.

Dale and I began seriously dating in the early 70s, still unsure about one another’s true feelings, while trying to discover our own little love story. The 1970’s quintessential romantic movie, “Love Story,” was popular in the movie theaters. I remember spending an afternoon watching it with my college roommates in a darkened, downtown Provo movie theater, sobbing uncontrollably, as it was representative of what every girl wanted. We didn’t want a sorrowful, tragic ending of course, but it gave us hope for romantic love, the kind that lasts forever.

I was afraid of marriage and in denial of my newfound feelings, continuing to write several missionaries and date other boys. Trying to postpone the inevitable a little longer, I was a talkative, humorous date, with no romantic intentions. During this time Dale was going to school and working in Salt Lake, while putting a lot of miles on his little green Mustang, coming to see me. The more I liked him, the more I tried to find excuses for not being available. At Christmas time I bought Dale a colored shirt and a tie, gently helping him depart from his tried and true returned missionary “white shirt” attire. I also made him a giant red stocking to hold the gifts, complete with three large lumps of black coal I’d picked out at a construction site. I intended for my gift to be more on the humorous side instead of sentimental, securing our relationship as “just friends.”

Dale on the other hand arrived on Christmas Eve with two little packages, small and suspiciously ring sized, or at least my family thought so. As I began to open the gifts, my family descended on us with the movie camera, quite an ordeal in the days of silent home movies with additional hand held lighting. Everyone, but Dale and I, breathlessly waited the “big moment,” when all would be revealed. We were blissfully unaware of their expectations, having no idea why they were all so interested in our gift exchange. Inside the first package I discovered a pair of beautiful, long dangly earrings. Inside the second package, carefully arranged and displayed, lay a perfect “real” hot pink, miniature rose with an intricate, miniature crystal vase. It might have been a let down to my anxious family, but to me it was the perfect gift, romantically from the heart. We became officially engaged the following April, resulting in a June wedding.

Dale has always had a green thumb. Not literally of course, but he has always loved working with plants, especially miniature ones. He helped his dad with the yard work growing up and especially enjoyed caring for the outdoor baby rose bushes. In high school he would often tie baby roses to the front doorknob of my house while I was at work. After his mission, Dale began growing his own miniature roses in a little greenhouse he set up in his bedroom. Dale pruned, watered, and pampered his little plants, waiting for the first rose blossom to bud. Finally after a few successful blooms, the perfect rose blossomed just in time to be his Christmas gift to me! The perfect rose for an imperfect girl, who didn’t know the best thing that ever happened to her, until he quietly slipped into her life and deep inside her heart. A very small rosebud, insignificant to most, but significant of the unconditional love that he has always given me.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dale!”
~ Love, Linda

“I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life!
And, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.”
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

“The Miniature Rose”—Given with Love, to Me!

“Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo,
But what you want is someone who will  take the bus with you . . .
When the limo breaks down!” ~ Oprah Winfrey

What’s In a Name?

2010-02-08T19:32:00.000-08:00

In Memory of Devro
(Feb. 8, 1956 - July 2, 2007)

In his Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare said, “What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Names . . . we all have one, and most people have a vague idea what their own name means. However few give it much thought unless it has a special significance. Sometimes our birth names warp into shortened versions of the original, spanning nicknames meant to be terms of endearment. Growing up in my family was no different. My brother Dev and I loved inventing nicknames for our entire family (alliterations of course), and that was before I even knew what an alliteration was!

I loved playing with words and the names we created were just plain fun to make up. Our sister, Vicki, was “Vicki Vampire,” which made us laugh, as she was our older sister and sometimes a little bit bossy. Judy was “Judy Jellybean,” or “Judy Jumping Jack,” which suited her lively energy and her love of candy. I was “Linda Lamb.” I don’t remember choosing my name, but everyone called me that, I suppose referring to my “don’t rock the boat,” non confronting, usually gentle nature. I didn’t particularly like my nickname, feeling like I was considered fragile. I wanted to be a “tough” girl, like Judy.

I’m not sure how my brother, Devro, got his nickname of “Devy Duck,” but it suited him, as he was forever charming and loved to talk - a real funny “quacker!” When our baby sister, Loni, came along we’d apparently run out of clever nicknames, as her beautiful name somehow got shortened simply to “Lomp” or “Lumpy,” as our cousins referred to her. The nickname “Lomp” was pronounced upon her head by our brother-in-law, Richard, who also referred to his own daughter, Monette, as “Mo.” Yes, Lomp and Mo were the best of friends. To this day, even though Loni is well over 40, Richard still calls her Lomp!

Devro and I also enjoyed making up nicknames for our parents. We settled on “Shirley Squirrel” for mom, due to a lack of a more creative animal beginning with the letter S. Later, after I was married, I discovered my mother’s nickname growing had been "Shirley Salad," as she loved to eat salad. But we didn’t know anything about that as children. Humorously I grew up calling my mother’s sister, "Aunt Fruity." It never occured to me that it was an odd name or that it wasn’t her real name! I just accepted it. In reality, her name was Ruth, nicknamed “Fruity” because she loved eating bottled fruit for her after school snacks.

I don’t think we ever came up with a good nickname for dad, as nothing in our young vocabulary of “M” words seemed appropriate for Milt. Ironically last year my sister, Loni, told me our dad had created his own nickname, calling himself “Clay!” I had never heard that story before and curiously asked how it had come about. Apparently after dad began working for Won Door Corporation, installing folding doors, he would sell the left over metal parts from his installations to the recyclers. They wanted a name for their records, and not wanting to give them his real name, he used his favorite name, Clay! It was the name he’d regularly suggested to us as a possible name for one of his grandsons. When it was rejected, he took it for himself!

My sisters and I were all given middle names that were reflective of our patriarchal grandfather’s southern heritage. Southerners seem to like to combine two names as one, and we had names that followed suit . . . Vicki Ann, Judy Lyn, Linda Rae, and Loni Mae. We were all very Billy Bob, Samantha Jo, in a Billy Ray sort of interesting southern style way. The exception to the rule was in the naming of my brother, Devro, my parents pride and joy and only namesake. My mother wanted to give him the unusual name of Devereux, derived from the beautiful French name usually reserved as a last name. However, Mom was worried about the complicated spelling and imposing such a big name on her young child. The only spelling she knew of was “Devereux” and that seemed a lot to put on one baby boy. Then a friend sent a gift for our baby brother. Having heard his intended name, but unsure of the correct spelling, she spelled it simply, “Devro.” The rest was history. Mom, lover of all that is clean and modern, loved the new spelling! To this day we have never heard of, or seen another, with that American spelling of a French name!

I have always loved alliterations, naming my pets appropriately with names like, “Barnaby Bunny” and “Parakeet Pete.” However I also adore names with an added sense of humor, like “Jack Rabbit” and “Gregory Peck.” Following in their mother’s footsteps, our children named their pets and stuffed animals too, also giving nicknames to each other, their own little terms of endearment towards one another. Of course our sixth and final child got the brunt of the nickname game, as each of her older siblings bestowed their favorite upon her. “Mckenzie” became “KiKi” (pronounced Kee Kee), which was the name she called herself when learning to talk. Then there was “Mouse” or “Mickey,” after the famous Disney character coincidentally sharing her birthday, and also “Jo,” “Joey,” or “Josephine,” with no rhyme or reason other than they “could” do it, finally wearing her down into acceptance. The name torture continued with an imaginary friend named, “Fred,” that her sisters invented and convinced her really existed. It was mom torture as well when I’d hear her in her room airing her childhood complaints and the unfairness about her world to her only understanding friend, dear Fred. Sisters! Gotta’ love ‘em!

I have had many unfortunate nicknames of my own over the years. My mother’s youngest brother, Uncle Kay, called me “Linda Lou,” and occasionally “Linda Spinda.” I remember a big family Thanksgiving celebration in our basement one year, where his nicknames became an annoyance to my budding young teenager style. The relatives on that side of the family all lived fairly close in proximity, and they were coming to our house to eat. It was a special holiday celebration, so my sister, Judy, decided to give me a glamorous hairdo for the occasion. She enjoyed trying new hairstyles out on my long hair. I spent the morning in her little downstairs bathroom as she curled, ratted and sprayed my hair, creating a half up-do with long curls hanging beneath it. When perfection was finally achieved, I gracefully walked up the basement stairs to show off my magnificent new look. At that precise moment, Uncle Kay came bounding down the steps carrying food for our feast.

“Hello, Linda Lou,” he said, lovingly patting my new hairdo flat on my head, unaware of my horror and the painstaking hours I’d spent getting my glamourous hairdo. “How’s my Linda Spinda?”

Although, nicknames can often be a form of ridicule, mine were always considered desirable, symbolising a form of acceptance. In junior high I nicknamed myself “Lindy,” after a brand of pen I used, thinking it would be great to have a pen with my name on it. However no one else knew about it so the name never caught on. In high school the boys in the ward nicknamed me “Nelda,” for reasons I can’t recall. Unfortunately they took great delight in teasing me with it long after I was married. In college I acquired the nickname of “Cinda,” after a boyfriend read a story I’d been given in one of my classes titled, “Cinda I love You!” Somehow it stuck and everybody began calling me by the new name. Boyfriend even had license plates made for his car with the name Cinda on them. My claim to fame!

Nicknames are still very much a part of my life, having somehow transcended into my present day environment. Thanks to my son-in-law, Casey, some of my favorite things now have family nicknames that have become permanent sayings. Our tranquil living room with white couches, off-white carpet and glass end tables, meant to greet guests and provide peaceful harmony . . . has been renamed the “Air Lock,” referring to the sanitary feel of a room so white and clean that it takes your breath away . . . apparently not in a good way. After our daughter, Ashley, married, her empty bedroom became the “Secret Garden,” a place where Casey could hide away during family parties, reading a book to his hearts content. A treasured piece of modern white sculpture, a design meant to be elegant, simple and symbolic of life’s circle of love from the “Circle of Love” collection by Kim Lawrence, has become the “Whip Cream Statue.” And Finally, the purple bedroom, formerly occupied by our youngest child before she decided to abandon us and move downstairs to the Secret Garden, has become the “Guessing Room,” like “guess who lives there now?” Thank you Casey’s daughter, my grandchild, Acacia. Like father, like daughter!

Today is my brother’s birthday. He would have been 54 years old. Happy Birthday Devy Duck! I miss you now that you’ve joined Judy in our heavenly home. Has it really been over two and a half years since you left? You were always the life of the party and it’s not quite the same here without you. I can still see your mischievous smile in my minds eye, your hand waving “hello,” your famous wide mouth grin, the “Barney the Purple Dinosaur” voice you’d mimic perfectly, and the barking dog voice that scared us half to death when you’d jump out from behind closed doors. You have always been just as unique as your name! “ . . . By any other name would smell as sweet.”

"My Brother and I"

“What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.” ~ Helen Keller

Tears For Fears

2010-01-27T17:55:00.000-08:00

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”
~ Franklin D. Roosevelt

Remember the English pop rock duo in the early 1980s called, “Tears for Fears?” My sister once went into a record store to buy their album for her teenage daughters. Forgetting the group’s name, she requested a copy of “Rain and Pain,” much to her chagrin and the confusion of the sales clerk. To add further humiliation, she requested a copy of “Oxygen Mask,” her name for the group, “Air Supply.” Tears . . . Fears . . . Rain . . . Pain . . . Oxygen Mask . . . whatever gets the job accomplished. Right?

However, the name, “Tears for Fears,” has forever become a symbol in my mind of fear and sadness, tears shed for those humiliating experiences or fears we all have stored inside. The group, Tears for Fears, actually based their name on a technique called, “Primal Therapy,” developed by American psychologist, Arthur Janov, who became famous after becoming John Lennon’s (of Beetle fame) therapist. Primal Therapy is a trauma-based psychotherapy that believes that neurosis is caused by repressed pain of childhood trauma.

My sister, Vicki, is afraid of cats! That’s right . . . the soft, cuddly furry ones of the kitty cat nature! But as unreasonable as it sounds, the fear is deep seeded for whatever tramatic reason that caused it. And it was no laughing matter! As a little girl, I shared a bedroom with my teenaged sister, Vicki. My bedtime was long before Vicki’s, so I would carefully arrange my collection of stuffed animals around me before I went to sleep. My yellow, fluffy kitten was a particular favorite. Knowing anything furry brought shrill screams from Vicki, I was careful to hide it neatly beneath my pillow or some other undetected place, where I assumed it would be safe. I understood my mother’s fear of snakes and my own fear of twitchy-nosed mice and creepy spiders. After all, they were what I considered to be normal, sensible fears. But really? A furry yellow kitten, that wasn’t even real? Please!

I’d carefully hide my treasured kitty in a new place every night, hoping Vicki would not discover it when she came to bed. Much to my dismay and without fail, every morning I’d discover my stuffed animals scattered about the bed, victims of her crazed search for fuzzy kitty. Poor beloved, yellow fuzzy kitten, would be coldheartedly thrown on the floor! However, I was relentless and stubborn in my quest. Each night I persisted to hide my kitty in a spot I hoped would be undetected. But alas, it was a “no win” situation!

To this day my whole family has a cat prejudice. I myself have come to view them as disease carrying, mouse eating, winey little creaters . . . probably due to their disgusting mouse breath association and my own unrelistic fear of mice . . . rather than their actual cattness.

Experts say that the most common phobias are the fear of snakes, spiders, mice, heights, and water. Fear of public speaking, closed spaced, and flying in airplanes are also common phobias. There have also been reports of people having persistent, irrational, intense fear of a specific object, like clowns, pickles, grapes, or birds. Movies play into our fears too. Remember the old Alfred Hitchcock thrillers, “The Birds (1963),” and “Psycho (1960)?” Who could view massive amounts of birds flocking together and feel safe after that? Who could shower alone in the house without heart pounding tension and locking the bathroom door after witnessing poor Janet Leigh’s violin screeching demise?   

Yes, I have an irrational fear of mice. I am not particularly thrilled about spiders either, especially the big, hairy ones. However, these fears seem perfectly rational to me. Spiders, after all, are creepy and crawly, possibly poisonous. Who wouldn't be afraid? And don’t get me started on mice. Mice have twitchy noses, they squeeze into small spaces undetected, and they die in unpredictable places, leaving their disease-ridden feces behind them!   

The word “phobia” by definition, is a persistent, irrational, intense fear of a specific object, activity, or situation (the phobic stimulus), fear that is recognized as being excessive or unreasonable by the individual himself. Fear is defined as an emotional response to a perceived threat. It is a basic survival mechanism occurring in response to a specific stimulus, such as pain or the threat of danger. It has been said: “Honesty, love, compassion, loyalty, dreams and ideals will all be tested by our fears and that the courage portrayed in the face of our deepest fears is the strength beneath all other virtues. The depth of our courage will be the roots that determine how high we can grow.” ~ Author Unknown  

In a 2005 USA Gallup poll took a national sample of adolescents between the ages of 13 and 15, asking what they feared the most. The question was open ended and participants were able to say whatever they wanted. The most frequently cited fear (mentioned by 8% of the teens) was terrorism. The top ten fears were, in order of the most feared: terrorist attacks, spiders, death, being a failure, war, heights, criminal or gang violence, being alone, the future, and nuclear war.  

Instead of ignoring our fears, we should treat them with tenderness and patience. They are an invaluable window into our inner life and the development of our soul. So face your fears, shed your tears, and be patient with those around that you that don’t understand.  

"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do."
~ Eleanor Roosevelt

“Love is what we were born with. Fear is what we learned here.”

~ Marianne Williamson

Give Us Faith, So We’ll Be Safe

2010-01-15T15:32:00.000-08:00

“Faith can give us courage to face the uncertainties of the future.”

~ Martin Luther King Jr.

There’s a beautiful song that singers, Andrea Bocelli, and Josh Groban, have both sung called, “The Prayer.” I have both vocal versions on my iPod. The lyrics are spiritually uplifting and can immediately calm me when I am stressed. “Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace; Give us faith, so we'll be safe.”

A week ago I decided to stay up and watch a late night movie. It was a thriller! My usual genre is romantic comedy or thought provoking drama with an inspirational message. I have to be in the “mood” for action adventure and I rarely watch anything really scary, especially at night before going to sleep. I hadn’t planned to watch the whole movie, as it was taped on my DVR, so I knew I could finish it later. I thought I’d heard good reviews about it and the actors captivated my interest, so I not only started the movie, but continued to watch into the late night hours. My husband gave up half way through the movie and was soon fast asleep beside me. Wide a wake, I continued to stare at the drama displayed before me on my television screen.

The movie began with a successful, happily married, romantic couple, buying their first home. However it soon became evident that all was not well in perfect “happy valley.” Don’t you just hate those movies where the heroine cautiously enters a dark room, just as the music alerts you to possible danger lurking ahead, only to have her say, “Is anybody there?”

“Of course somebody is there!” I want to scream. “Can’t you hear the scary music?”

Well, it soon became apparent that my late night movie was THAT kind of movie! Anyway, the movie eventually progressed to a frightening climax. My heart was pounding as the imminent danger lurked closer and closer. Then suddenly . . . the attacker! I let out a shrill, unsolicited scream! Beside me my husband continued to sleep peacefully, unaware of my outburst, evidence of his over tired condition. The movie concluded. All was well. I shut off the television, still thinking about the movie, now alone with my thoughts in our darkened bedroom.

I couldn’t sleep. All around the outer walls of our bedroom were dark shadows, misty and black, like dense, suffocating fog. I closed my eyes, telling myself it was only my eyes playing tricks on me after staring at the television screen too long. I opened my eyes again, but the shadows persisted, as if there was an evil presence around me. My heart began to pound and I began to feel an unnatural fear within.

I blinked my eyes numerous times, trying to clear the shadowy, dark thick images from my brain. They remained around the perimeters of my room. I closed my eyes and began to pray. I prayed for His Spirit to be with me and for administering angels to calm my fear. I prayed for His light to enter my heart and room, casting out the darkness of evil that had entered. Soon I felt His calming influence and knew His angels had responded to my plea. I felt safe in His arms of love and soon feel fast asleep. “Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace; Give us faith, so we'll be safe.” He is always there, if only we ask.

“Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark. If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be . . . a prudent insurance policy.” ~ Elizabeth Gilbert, “Eat, Pray, Love!”

Top 12 Ways To Recognize a New Year!

2010-01-01T09:21:00.000-08:00

“Whatever with the past has gone, . . .

The best is always yet to come!” ~ Lucy Larcom

Throughout the years of celebrating each new year with our growing family, we have come to recognize the dawn of each pristine beginning in numerous ways. So here for your enjoyment and thoughtful pondering of your own traditions, are my . . .

“Top 12 Ways To Recognize It’s a Brand New Year (past and present):

1. You watched Dick Clark's “New Year's Rockin' Eve” countdown to the sparkling “ball drop” in Times Square, New York City, while sitting at home in the comfort of your living room. Presently, following Dick’s unfortunate stroke and subsequent long recovery, you now watch Ryan Seacrest preform the annual ritual in Dick’s name, with Dick looking on doing studio comments.

2. Having promised your little ones they could stay up to toast in the New Year with Martinelli’s sparkling nonalcoholic cider, finally tucking them into bed, your daughter says sleepily, “But we didn’t have our toast!” Only then do you realize they thought you meant actual toast, with butter and honey.

3. You wake up in the middle of the night with the television blaring loudly, realizing everybody fell asleep in front of the television. Your poor husband is snoring uncomfortably on the floor.

4. Your kitchen pots and pans and large serving spoons are outside in the snow, after your children rang in the New Year at midnight, annoying the neighbors.

5. Hallmark, Lifetime, and the Family television channels have discontinued their “24 Days” of tear-jerking, heartfelt Christmas shows, that in reality began two months ago.

 
6. You have a piece of paper on your desk with the title, “New Year’s Resolutions,” which you intend to begin writing eventually . . . however the only thing listed so far is, “Stop procrastinating.”

 
7. You resolve to finally lose the “weight,” . . . after you’ve consumed the last piece of Christmas chocolate goodness.

8. You resolve to begin each day by being grateful, giving service to someone. You begin by being grateful you have one more piece of chocolate in the house before you begin your new diet. You give service by serving it to yourself.

9. You resolve to go through the Christmas trash bag of wrapping paper, still in the living room, to find the new television remote control and Barbie’s missing shoe, before the garbage truck comes on Friday.

 
10. The evening news presents their annual “Year in Review” and you wonder where you were when all that was happening, as the majority of it is “news” to you.

11. You hang up a cute new wall calendar, realizing you no longer need to write last year’s birthdays on it because you now use an electronic calendar. Never again will you miss that January 1st birthday and have to send belated greetings. Sadly, you usually forget to check your technology on January 1st and send belated greetings anyway.

12. You begin the New Year by: Making a new “To Do” list on your computer, adding in things you’ve already done today so you can have the satisfaction of crossing them off and feeling accomplished as well as giving purpose to the “strikethrough” font you’ve never used; Creating a January computer screen saver; Deleting 200 old emails that were still sitting in your inbox; Creating a new signature quote and writing “Happy New Year” on every outgoing email!

Happy 2010 Everybody!

“Learn from the past, prepare for the future, live in the present!”

~ Thomas S. Monson

A New Kind of Nativity!

2009-12-24T14:55:00.001-08:00

Nine Grandchildren, Dec. 2009

“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger . . . And there were in the same country shepherds [and Luke Skywalker, along with three wise guys] abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock [and their doggies] by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid [some were wild and crazy, others stunned in silence].”

A Christmas Story

2009-12-21T17:35:00.000-08:00

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!”

Christmas represents various contrastive things to many different people. However a common bond we often share are the obstacles that threaten our perfect imagined Christmas vision. For some, Christmas brings memories of hectic shopping for hard to find gifts and added weight gain from eating too many holiday goodies. For others it brings sadness of loved ones lost and memories cut short before their time.

For me, Christmas has always been a magical time of year. It has never been about the weather outside or the money we had (or did not have) to spend. It has always represented a time for unexpected surprises and the joy of family, gathering together in celebration of their love, just like on the first Christmas so long ago.

My own parents always made Christmas special. My mother spent many sleepless nights making doll clothes and hand sewn Christmas dresses to wake up to. I remember being blindfolded while she tried on the clothing she was making, so I’d be surprised on Christmas morning. There was always at least one special present on the tree from Dad, identified by the mini chocolate Santa’s he adored his gifts with. One year I asked for a chimpanzee, after seeing one as a pet on a popular television show. Realistically I knew I wasn’t going to get a “real” clothes wearing, people understanding, furry, monkey companion to share my life. However, I put it on my wish list anyway. I was so surprised and excited when my dad’s chocolate adorned Santa gift turned out to be a life size baby monkey, wearing little white shoes and sucking his thumb! He was a pretend stuffed animal of course, but my love for my dad was genuine!

One of my most unforgettable Christmas’s with our own children was in 1976. Our little boy, Cordale, had just turned three that year, and his baby sister, Aleesha, was almost 10 months old. Dale had spent many late nights after work making a wooden train with 12-inch cars that could haul cargo and seat mini Fisher Price people. He was excited for Christmas Day when it would surprise Cord from beneath the branches of our pink, snow flocked Christmas tree. (At my request Dale had hand flocked our little tree “pink” in honor of our new baby girl, just as our tree had been “blue” when Cord was born.) While Dale was reenacting Santa’s workshop, I was busy making a pink, bunting clad, soft bodied, baby doll and a blanket to go with the beautiful wooden doll cradle Dale had also made for our new little girl.

Our December activities also included an invitation to go to California with Dale’s whole family for his sister, Joanne’s wedding open house. Not wanting to miss out on the family occasion and a trip to sunny California as well, I finished weaning my nursing baby, who began taking a bottle after some concentrated effort, and flew my little coop, leaving our two children in the hands of my loving mother.

It was the third wedding that year in Dale’s family, a year of wedded bliss his parents would not soon forget. That December, following Joanne’s Utah wedding and reception on December 18th, we all caravanned to California for the groom’s open house celebration. We were all part of the wedding party!

Things were going well and we were all having a great time. Unfortunately, right before we were to leave for home I got alarming news from my mother. My baby girl, Aleesha, was sick and even my experienced mother was frightened and wondering what to do. Aleesha had a tight cough that sounded like a “barking dog” and it was unlike anything my mother had experienced before. I gave my mother the name of my doctor and she made an appointment immediately. Aleesha turned out to have “croup,” an ailment unfamiliar in my family, but one very familiar in Dale’s family, and one I would come to know well in the years to come. Croup features a cough that sounds like a seal barking. Most children have what appears to be a mild cold for several days before the barking cough becomes evident. As the cough gets more frequent, breathing often becomes very labored, a recipe for scary, worried nights and continuous steam ridden bedrooms.

Dale and I left for home immediately. Dale drove all the way while I prayed and kept my frightened state of mind busy by putting the final hand stitches on the baby doll for Aleesha’s Christmas. We arrived home to a very sick baby with instructions from the doctor to bring her to the emergency room for a breathing treatment if she worsened in the night. In the wee hours of the morning we made our way to the hospital where life saving medicine opened up baby Aleesha’s lungs. That night Dale made a tent like covering over Aleesha’s crib and elevated the top of her mattress, pointing the humidifier inside, creating a “steam tent” to relieve her breathing. I vowed I would study nutrition and find ways to help my children in times of illness. I never wanted to be in a hospital of sick babies fighting to breath again . . . not if I could help it! (Later we found out Dale’s sister’s baby daughter, Nicole, only four months old, had also visited the hospital with a severe case of scary croup as well.)

Christmas morning was definitely memorable that year. The quilted material doll blanket I had tied with yarn was neatly tucked inside the beautiful wooden cradle, concealing the blanket’s still unfinished edges. The wooden train was nestled beneath the tree, not yet sealed with protective finish to keep away the dirt. However, Christmas was magical, as we witnessed it through the wonderment of our three-year-old son, and rejoiced in the renewed health of our baby daughter. We were blessed to be a family and to celebrate His birth by giving thanks for our own children’s precious lives.

I hope that whatever is on your Christmas wish list this year finds a place under your tree and that they’ll be some fun surprises there too. Perhaps you’ll write a new “Christmas Story” in your family catalog of memories as well. Just remember, what ever your Christmas story is and whatever you do, “Don’t shoot your eye out kid!”

“I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year . . . God bless us every one!” ~ Charles Dickens

Ghosts of Christmas Past!

2009-12-17T16:05:00.000-08:00

Some are naughty,

Some are nice,

Some are joyful,

Some come twice.

The magic of Christmas,

Is sweetest to see,

From the eyes of God's children

He entrusted to me. ~ Linda Ottley

"In this age of instant coffee, overnight rush deliveries, and 30-second media sound bites, it's not surprising that children have discovered that their letters to Santa can be sent by email!"

~ Patrick Flaherty, (Dear Santa)

The Four Stages of Life

2009-12-12T19:56:00.000-08:00

Santa and Ashley (1987)

1. You BELIEVE in Santa Claus.
2. You DON’T BELIEVE in Santa Claus.
3. You ARE Santa Claus.
4. You LOOK like Santa Claus!

 “I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six. Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph.”

~ Shirley Temple, Child Actress

All I Really Need To Know I Learned From Santa!

2009-12-07T18:24:00.000-08:00

Santa and Me (1955)

The bestseller book, "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten," by Robert Fulgrum, has encouraged numerous, anonymous Internet authors to take pen in hand and write their own versions of life knowledge gained. After all, why over-analyze life when it’s mysteries can be simple! Here’s the Christmas version of knowledge gained and life solved! Enjoy!

All I Really Need To Know I Learned From Santa! 

1. Encourage people to believe in you.
2. Always remember who's naughty and who's nice.
3. Don't pout.
4. It's as much fun to give as it is to receive.
5. Some days it's okay to feel a little chubby.
6. Make your presents known.
7. Always ask for a little bit more than what you really want.
8. Bright red can make anyone look good.
9. Wear a wide belt and no one will notice how many pounds you've gained.
10. If you only show up once a year, everyone will think you're very important.
11. Whenever you're at a loss for words say, “Ho, Ho, Ho!”

“Whenever you give someone a present or sing a holiday song, you’re helping Santa Claus. To me, that’s what Christmas is all about . . . helping Santa Claus! ~ Louis Sachar

Gratitude Rocks!

2009-11-26T09:08:00.000-08:00

“Gratitude is the heart’s memory.” ~ French Proverb   

Carrying a “gratitude rock” in your pocket was made popular by the best selling book, The Secret. Presently you can find unique gratitude rocks in countless shapes, colors, and sizes on numerous websites. The gratitude rock story was about a man named, Lee Brower, whose life seemed to move at such a fast pace that he unconsciously ended up ignoring all of the wonderful experiences, relationships and blessings he had. So he began carrying (what he called) a “gratitude rock” in his pocket, in reality just a small, smooth stone that he picked up by a pond of water. Whenever he put his hand in his pocket and touched the stone—usually several times a day—it was a reminder to him to give thanks for something, usually something happening at that given moment, whether good or bad. Now he carries it with him where ever he goes!  

A similar story was published by a writer for the Washington Post, as part of an experiment asking the question, “How many people would recognize beauty in a place where it wasn't expected?”  On a busy workday as commuters rushed toward their busy schedules in Washington, D.C., a 39-year-old man dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap took out an old violin and began to play. Few people noticed. Most kept their eyes on the ground or looked straight ahead. A few, talking on cell phones, raised their voices in order to be heard over the music. These were, after all, busy people. They had work to do and appointments to keep. They did not stop and they did not listen. What they missed was a rare performance by one of the greatest violinists in the world playing his Stradivarius violin, worth more than three million dollars. He chose to play some of the most technically demanding, elegant music ever written for his instrument, and he played with all the passion and perfection that he had become known for throughout the world.

During the 43-minute concert, nearly 1,100 people passed by. Of those, only seven stopped to listen even for a moment. The writer, who won a Pulitzer Prize for his article about the unheard violinist, summarized the experience with these words: “If we can't take the time out of our lives to stay a moment and listen to one of the best musicians on Earth play some of the best music ever written; if the surge of modern life so overpowers us that we are deaf and blind to something like that--then what else are we missing?” (Lloyd D. Newell, "Music and the Spoken Word," Nov. 1, 2009, Broadcast #4181)

The world offers us daily moments of beauty that can enrich our lives—if we open our eyes and open our hearts! I was diagnosed with a devastating chronic illness, called Lyme disease, 14 years ago and my life has never been the same. The crippling effects of my condition make life a daily challenge. So . . . long ago I decided that just for today . . . every day . . . I'd choose to be in an attitude of gratitude for all God’s gifts. We get to choose how each day begins and receive the positive energy that accompanies our awareness and gratitude for all the many blessings in our lives.

It is amazing how this simple act of daily gratitude can change our perspective and, ultimately, our attitude. Instead of seeing the glass half-empty, it’s half-full. Instead of focusing on what we don’t have, lets focus on what we DO have—right now!  

A very wise person once told me, “You won’t attract what you don’t have, until you learn to be grateful for what you do have.” The law of attraction does not focus on our lack—what’s missing, but instead focuses on gratitude for the gifts of life we already have!

So here’s a challenge for today—this season of thanksgiving. Push the “pause” button on your life and take a moment to write down 10 things you are grateful for today. Then grab your own “rock of gratitude” and carry it in your pocket to remind you to live in gratitude each and every day! Hold your gratitude rock in your hand and think about the people and things that you have in your life right now which you are grateful for. Think about the incredible experiences you've had as a result of having these special people and possessions in your life. When you do this on a consistent basis and start to associate the power of these experiences and the feeling of gratitude with your “gratitude rock,” you’ll begin creating a very formidable base from which everything else will grow.

Remember whenever you find yourself overwhelmed by life's daily stresses, all you need to do is to grab your gratitude rock and feel its positive energy to put yourself in the right state of mind immediately.
 

Each day we have a new canvas placed before us. How will we use it? Here’s what I’m grateful for today. What’s on your list?

My Gratitude Rocks: 

1. My Savior; His unconditional love and sacrifice for me. 

2. My husband, Dale, and 37 years of marriage, wisdom, dry humor, encouragement, love and support. 

3. Our family, immediate and extended and the love they give. 

4. Our home; I am warm, dry, and comfortable. 

5. The fact that I have enough to eat today. 

6. A family business thanks to the hard work of Dale’s parents. 

7. Living in the age of technology, the Internet highway of information. 

8. Good books to read and heartfelt movies to ponder! 

9. Laughter and Sunshine—The Very Best Medicine! 

10. Dark Chocolate! (You've read my thoughts about that on a previous blog.)

“Live Well, Laugh Often, Love Much!”

Happy Birthday Sweet 18!

2009-11-18T15:42:00.000-08:00

Today’s the day you’ve waited for,

Because you're not a baby anymore.
You've turned into the prettiest girl we've ever seen,
Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!

What happened to that baby face,
Our little girl with curls and lace?
We can't believe you're such a teenage dream,
Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!

I have to smile with sweet surprise,
Somehow you've grown up before our very eyes.
You've turned into the loveliest girl we've ever seen,
Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!

Born in the month of gratitude, I’m proud to be your mother,
You’re our bright shiny star . . . like no other.
Now 18, on THIS—the 18th day . . . you're queen!
Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!

Wishing Happy Birthday to you,
Hope all your fondest dreams come true.
Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!
Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!

We Love You!

Happy 18th Birthday Kenzi!

The Gift Called Old Age

2009-11-17T15:57:00.000-08:00

“Old age is when you still have something on the ball,  

But you are just too tired to bounce it!” ~ Author Unknown  

As my husband and I approach the years that were promised to be “golden,” mourning the loss of his parents and watching mine go into assisted living, the prospect of aging looks daunting to say the least. Recently I received the following email message, forwarded from a friend. It’s just too good not to share. I was unable to discover it’s original author, but the message truly resonated within me. The timing to read this could not have been more perfect. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!  

The Gift Called Old Age   

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question and I would ponder it, and let her know.  

“Old Age,” I’ve decided, is a gift! I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometimes despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt . . . and that old person that lives in my mirror often startles me! However I don't agonize over these things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family, for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I have aged I've become kinder and less critical of myself. I've become my own best friend.

I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant-garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging. Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4:00 a.m. and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60's and 70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love, I will. I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful, but there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And eventually I remember the important things.

Sure over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? However broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think! I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong!

So, to answer your question, I like being old because it has set me free! I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day (if I feel like it)!

To all the Golden Oldies: “May you always have a rainbow of smiles on your face and in your heart forever!”

Sisters, Sisters

2009-11-12T17:34:00.000-08:00

“’Help one another,’ is part of the religion of sisterhood.”
~ Louisa May Alcott
[Pictured: My sisters, Vicki and Judy, and me!]

I grew up following in the footsteps of my two older sisters, Vicki and Judy, although being my father’s third daughter in a row, often made me wonder if he was secretly disappointed when I was born. However, I am told that when they placed me in my father’s arms and he carried me from the delivery room to the hospital nursery, it was love at first sight.

My sisters were my heroes and my playmates. Vicki, nine years older than me, had always longed for a cuddly, baby sister. Her dreams had vanished when Judy arrived three years later, who refused to be snuggled and caressed or be her baby-doll. So I became Vicki’s baby, carried around like a precious dolly. Competitive by nature, Judy attempted to imitate Vicki. Unfortunately with her short, petite frame, Judy ended up carrying me by my head! Amazingly I survived this contest for my love.

My sister Vicki was so competent in caring for me that eventually my mother gave into Vicki’s plea to be my babysitter, letting her tend me for short periods of time while she was away. Vicki insisted that the hired babysitters were insufficient and that she could do a much better job, and she did!

I remember fun times growing up together with my sisters. We would link arms, doing “Can-can” chorus line high kicks, singing the famous lyrics from the song, “Sisters, Sisters,” from Irving Berlin’s 1954 movie, White Christmas. Words like, “Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters,” and “Sharing, caring, every little thing that we are wearing,” are deeply embedded within the memory bank of my “Ya-Ya Sisterhood” days.

I was reminded this week of the numerous times my sister, Vicki, came to my rescue during and following childbirth. She was always there for me even though she was a young busy mother herself. I remember going into labor a week early with my daughter, Aleesha, following a bout of the flu. Vicki cleaned my house and did my wash while I was in the hospital (even all the little extras that sometimes get left in the bottom of the wash bin because you aren’t using them right now). My mother was taking care of my little boy, so Vicki appointed herself housekeeper and clothes washer. I can’t express how uplifting it was to come home to a freshly cleaned house and folded laundry neatly put away, after my rushed hospital entrance. Only another woman can understand how much the gift of cleanliness means to a tired new mom.

Another time I was having a miscarriage and my mother was out of town. I called Vicki and she came running . . . only to find me lightheaded, bleeding profusely, and reading a book called, “How to Clean Everything in your House.” Unable to do anything about the miscarriage I was obviously having, recognized from past experience, I’d decided to do something about my newly purchased, now blood splattered, bedspread and the red blood trail leading to the bathroom from my early morning dash of awakened realization. Obviously alarmed and realizing I was not thinking rationally, Vicki calmly told me to go to the hospital with Dale, and not to worry as she would take care of everything. There are not many people on the planet one can ask to clean up a blood stained bedroom, that at the time resembled more of a crime scene than an actual emergency. Only someone who loves you would do it without a second thought.

It was on an early Sunday morning this month, on November 1st, when my daughter, Ashley, had an unexpected hospital dash of her own. Expecting her second child, she was scheduled for a Tuesday morning C-section that week. All month long she had been preparing for the long awaited day. She had reorganized every room and closet in her home, washed baby clothes, bought the necessary new things, and set up the nursery. We’d joked that even though she was having another C-section, how wonderful it was to be able to know your delivery day and be so prepared. However, as life goes, her little boy, Isaac, became ill just before Halloween, three days before her scheduled delivery. Suddenly there were bathrooms to be re-sterilized, and sheets and towels to be laundered. She planned on doing it all Monday before her hospital entrance.

That Sunday when she called to say she was in labor and they were going to the hospital, I heard tears of mixed emotion in her voice. She had tried so hard to be prepared and have her home ready for her highly anticipated little baby bundle. Things were not going as planned and she felt disorganized, still needing to pack her son to stay with Grandma.

A few hours later all was right with the world as mother and new baby son were safely sleeping in her hospital room. Yet her sister, Rachel, felt the motherly emotion of knowing what’s it’s like to go into labor early, not as prepared as you’d hoped. Rachel and her husband, Gordon, made a trip to Ashley’s house for a quick “Merry Maid” service. Sheets and towels were laundered, carpets vacuumed and floors mopped. The kitchen and bathrooms sparkled and beds were made to perfection. No one but another mom could understand what a gift of love that was from one sister to another. “Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters!”

“Having a sister is like having a best friend you can't get rid of.

You know whatever you do, they'll still be there.” ~ Amy Li

Smothered By Chocolate!

2009-11-01T13:28:00.000-08:00

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.

My favorite Smothers Brothers record was titled simply, “Chocolate,” deliciously hilarious with a visually delectable chocolate album cover. My favorite song, “I Fell into a Vat of Chocolate,” went like this:  

Tom (singing): “I fell into a vat of chocolate. I fell into a vat of chocolate . . .”  

Dick (singing): “What’d you do when you fell in the chocolate?”  

Both: “La dee doo dum, la dee doo dum day.”  

Tom (singing): “I yelled ‘FIRE’ when I fell into the chocolate!”  

Dick (annoyed, singing): “Why’d you yell ‘fire’ when you fell into the chocolate?”  

Tom: “I yelled ‘fire’ ‘cause no one would help me if I yelled, ‘CHOCOLATE!’”  

Both: “La dee doo dum, la dee doo dum day.”

I don't understand why so many "so called" chocolate lovers complain about the calories in chocolate, when all true chocoholics know that chocolate is a vegetable! Chocolate is derived from cocoa beans and beans are a vegetable. Furthermore, sugar is derived from either sugar cane or sugar beets. Both are plants, which places them in the vegetable category as well. Thus, chocolate is a vegetable.

So if you’re a chocolate lover and feel guilty as you devour each tasty morsel of sweetness, take reassurance in this timely message. After all, stress wouldn’t be so hard to take if it were chocolate covered. Furthermore, chocolate is cheaper than therapy and you don't need an appointment!

Chocolate is delicious, delectable, and soothing! And yes, American! Originally chocolate was a New World discovery, one of the most sought-after treasures in Europe, brought back from the brave new land across the Atlantic. It seems like everyday, there's a new report about a medical study confirming chocolate is, in fact, a health food. Don’t you just love the news stories that report it’s rich antioxidant goodness, cardiovascular health, and even diabetes strength? It’s just what chocolate lovers everywhere want to hear about this beloved American guilty pleasure. We want to be “smothered” in our own decadent vat of chocolate!

I could give up chocolate, but then I'm not a quitter. So remember, life can be hard, but chocolate definitely helps! In honor of the healing emotional affects of chocolate, here’s my favorite “Top 10 List of Chocolate Quotes.” Indulge in their chocolaty goodness and find yourself another reason to go for a piece of chocolate!

The Top 10 List of Chocolate Quotes:
1. “In the beginning, the Lord created chocolate, and he saw that it was good. Then he separated the light from the dark, and it was better.” ~ Author Unknown
2. “There are four basic food groups: Milk Chocolate, Dark Chocolate, White Chocolate, and Chocolate Truffles.” ~ Author Unknown
3. “Forget love . . . I'd rather fall in chocolate!!!” ~ Author Unknown
4. “Life is like a box of chocolates . . . You never know what you're gonna’ get!” ~ Forrest Gump (Tom Hanks)
5. “Make a list of important things to do today. At the top of your list put, 'Eat Chocolate.' Now, you'll get at least one thing done today!”

~ Gina Hayes
6. “There's nothing better than a good friend, except a good friend with chocolate!” ~ Linda Grayson, “The Pickwick Papers”
7. “The 12-Step Chocoholics Program: Never be more than 12 steps away from chocolate!” ~Terry Moore
8. “All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt!” ~ Lucy Van Pelt in Peanuts by Charles M. Schulz
9. “Strength is the capacity to break a chocolate bar into four pieces with your bare hands and then eat just one of the pieces.” ~ Judith Viorst
10. “I have this theory that chocolate slows down the aging process. It may not be true, but do I dare take the chance?” ~ Author Unknown

*For a healthy Nature’s Sunshine Chocolate bar, made with Xylitol, click here. Xylitol is an organic compound, naturally occurring sugar substitute, found in the fibers of many fruits and vegetables.

On This Day: Remembering Judy

2009-10-19T16:01:00.000-07:00

Pictured: My dad carrying Judy as I look on.

On the historic date of October 17th, Doris Humphrey, choreographer, dancer, and writer was born (October 17, 1895); American film star, actress, and dancer, Rita Hayworth, the legendary Hollywood beauty, was born (October 17, 1918); Physicist and renowned genius, Albert Einstein, arrived in the United States as a refugee from Nazi Germany (October 17, 1933); Evel Knievel, motorcycle daredevil, was born (October 17, 1838); Jimmy Seals, singer, songwriter, and one half of the successful soft rock band “Seals and Croft” was born (October 17, 1941); and the famous actress, Ava Gardner, and jazz composer and bandleader, Artie Shaw, were married (October 17, 1945). More recently, Mother Teresa, of India, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for her work on behalf of the destitute in Calcutta (October 17, 1979).

However, on October 17, 1945, a historic event occurred in my family of origin when my older sister, Judy, was born. She was a dancer, actress, singer, acrobat novas, comic, teacher, treasured friend, loving mother and beloved wife. I called her “sister.”

Judy had carrot red hair and a personality to match! She was a petite 4’ 10” and I was a tall 5’ 7”, a virtual giant in my mind, standing next to her. I loved being with her. She made things happen and she pushed me to do more . . . to be more.

My sister Judy was five years older than me. Our parents spaced their children rather far apart. There was a three-year space following the birth of my older sister, Vicki, before Judy was born. Five years later I arrived, five more years brought my younger brother, Devro, and then finally seven years later, my little sister, Loni, completed our family.

Judy was full of energy! She loved people and she was always busy with lots of activity. She loved to dance. Judy had Perthes disease when she was young, a disorder of the hip in young children. Many theories have been proposed as to the cause of the disease, including inflammation, infection, trauma, and even “hip problems” noted at birth. Whatever the cause, my parents were told Judy would always walk with a limp. However, Judy didn’t let the disease stop her. She wore her crutches to school and let the other kids try them out while she hopped around. She claimed they even made her popular! However it was dancing lessons that eventually created magic in her life and a miracle in her body. Her bones fused in such a way that she could walk and dance with grace. When the doctors examined the x-rays of her hip, they couldn’t understand why she didn’t walk with a limp.

I was shocked the day our Judy died. Even though she had a serious form of Leukemia, I had not expected her death. No one in our family did. We rationalized that something that unthinkable couldn’t happen again in our family, remembering the toxemia related death of my sister-in-law Gayle and her baby, Skyler. Besides Judy’s husband, Neal, was so spiritual – the bishop in their ward. He had promised she’d be all right and I believed him. We all wanted to believe him. We were not prepared to lose a sibling, a daughter, a friend, wife and mother. I was angry with Neal for a long time following her death because he didn’t seem to display any guilt for the decision he’d helped her make to have the bone marrow transplant. I couldn’t feel his pain, only my own. However, we all felt guilt, each in his or her own way . . . for bone marrow not good enough, for time not spent together, and for silly arguments of long ago. We felt guilt that we didn’t know there wouldn’t be time for all the things we’d planned to do and say. I will never forget the shock on her children’s faces when they were brought to the hospital to view their mother. She had passed away earlier in the day and appeared to be sleeping peacefully, as the midday sun shown through her hospital window. Her five children were young, ranging in ages 4-15 and as I watched them gather around her lifeless body, I realized they were as unprepared as I was.

On September 10, 1986, twenty-three years ago, at the age of 40, my sister, Judy moved on to her heavenly home after her valiant battle. I was in her hospital room as she passed from this life into the next one. Only Neal, our mother, a nurse, and I, watched helplessly as she quietly slipped away. I’d arrived at the hospital only minutes before. I remember frantically trying to put on the protective clothing required by the hospital before entering the sanitary environment. My mother motioned to me to abandon the task, to come quickly. With tears blurring my eyes, I entered her room and reached for her tiny petite hand. Her eyes were closed and the only sound in the room was from the quiet hum of the machine she was hooked up to. As I took her small hand, I gently whispered, “It’s Linda, Judy, I’m here.” I felt the slightest squeeze of my hand, and then she was gone. I remember that moment as clearly as if it was yesterday. It was the first time in my life I had complete confirmation of life after death. I felt the spirit in the room and knew others were there to guide her home. Tears still well up in my eyes when I write or think about that day.

I have been told that earlier in that day, Judy opened her eyes and complained about the noise in her room, asking her husband to please tell everyone to be quiet. He was confused, as the room was silent with only the soft hum of the hospital machine. He assured her that there was no one in the room talking. That day, as she lay dying, the spirit testified to me of our life before this one. My family is noisy and when we get together we all talk at once, excited to share our news. I wonder if the talking, noisy people she referred to were all of our noisy ancestors, excited and preparing for her return, just as we anticipate and enthusiastically prepare for a new baby.

Last Saturday, October 17, 2009, Judy would have been 64 years old. I had a dream about Judy last week. It seemed so real, like I was really with her. She came to see me and Neal was with her, his arms around her shoulders. He was grinning from ear to ear and he was so happy. I was surprised to see her and couldn't believe she was real. I threw my arms around her hugging her tightly and she felt as real to my touch as anyone on earth! Perhaps that's what the resurrection will feel like.

Someone once told me, “We can’t heal our pain until we can find gratitude for the trial or experience that gave us the sadness.” I used to think, “I’ll be grateful when this trial is finally over!” Who knew that losing my sister would be the beginning of understanding the gift of gratitude and unconditional love? The Savior taught us to love one another unconditionally. It seems like a simple gospel principle. Now I know it is an essential principle and the one that will guide us safely home.

In Loving Memory of Judy: October 17, 1945 – September 10, 1986

Healing Our Family History

2009-10-16T17:28:00.000-07:00

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.

I read a lot of different kinds of books during this particular season of my life, something I rarely did while raising my children. Back then I generally read ‘self help’ and ‘parenting’ books. However, thanks to the newly invented Kindle Reader (for more information click here), I have rediscovered reading for pleasure again, like I did during my teenage years. The books I enjoy reading usually fall into two basic categories: candy and chocolate. Some books are like sugary candy, a sweet treat that you must keep eating until it is consumed. While others are like decadent dark chocolate, something that must be savored over time. The book “Healing Your Family History” is like dark chocolate. It needs to be studied, pondered, and actively participated in to reap it’s full benefits. There are even worksheets included within its thought-provoking pages.

 
I have been reading this book along with writing my own history, a work still in progress. I have also been dabbling in researching and recording some of the histories of my ancestors. I’m especially drawn to the incredibly strong women I have descended from. I’ve discovered the truths in the following quote for myself, in being able to understand ‘who we are’ by understanding them:

“Something deep within us wants to connect with those who went before us: our parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and other family members. When we know who they are—their life stories, their triumphs and failures, their strengths and weaknesses—we gain a better sense of who we are. In a sense, their stories become our stories. We not only learn from them, we feel strengthened and inspired by their lives and experiences. We may even find ourselves thinking, ‘If they could do difficult things, so can I.’ With just a little effort, we can come to know and love those whose lives flow directly into ours.” ~ Lloyd D. Newell, Music and the Spoken Word

One of the many fascinating discoveries I’ve realized from pondering this book, is an interesting attitude that seems to have been passed down through the generations. This discovery about my female ancestors is only my opinion, but one that I find intriguing!

Since I wrote my little “Run-a-way Bride” blog on my anniversary (click here for blog entry), I've had some interesting discussions and thoughts that have brought about my recent revelation. I thought I was the only run-a-way bride in the family with fear of commitment. Then I discovered an aunt that also had a run-a-way bride story, and after a discussion with my younger sister I realized that all my siblings had fears of commitment as well. The fears go back to my mother, my grandmother and even way back to my great, great grandmother, who was probably the most reluctant bride of all!   

I've grown to love this great, great grandmother named, Emma, who made impetuous choices that she later regretted. There are so many lessons of life consequences, strength, and courage within her story. She was told it wasn’t proper to be running around the way she did, that she needed to marry the man who loved her or become one of the polygamous wife's of Wilford Woodruff, causing her to reluctantly choose the former. She gave birth to her first child just two months after her marriage date, obviously pregnant before marriage, an occurrence quite scandalous in the days before Hollywood made it appear acceptable. Of course things of that delicate nature were never discussed in that era. [I just finished reading Little Women again. There is no mention of Meg’s pending pregnancy until the twin babies are born, as “one does not speak of such things!”]

It is interesting to me how our fears get passed down through generations of DNA. That must be why it's so important to do our family history . . . so we can heal our hearts and theirs! What a glorious reunion that will be in heaven when we all understand one another in love without judgement!

I think my husband, Dale, understands that my run-a-way bride story had nothing to do with not loving him . . . just a fear of losing myself and my own dreams! He can't resist teasing me about it though. Recently I discovered a 40s song called, "Linda," that is so cute. When Dale heard it he said, "Hey that's me. That could have been my theme song in high school!" Here are some of the words he was referring to:

When I go to sleep,  

I never count sheep,  

I count all the charms about Linda.  

And lately it seems,  

In all of my dreams,  

I walk with my arms about Linda.  

But what good does it do me?  

For Linda doesn’t know that I exist.  

Can't help feeling gloomy,  

Think of all the lovin' I've missed!

I was truly afraid if I got married I would just have children, never graduating from college or being able to teach and travel. I wanted to travel and see far away places. However, my fears were needless. I married and still graduated from BYU, and that education has been such a blessing in my life. My six children were planned by choice and I have been able to travel with my husband, Dale, to some exciting places that have given me wonderful memories. My Dale is a fun traveling companion. I’ve taught preschool and taught in the church “because" of marriage, not in spite of it.

I come from a legacy of strong willed women who are stubborn and get what they want! Thats a great legacy of Family History!

 
“There's a story behind everything . . . How a picture got on a wall, how a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story because hers is where yours begins.” ~ Mitch Albom, For One More Day

“To heal our world, we must heal our families!” ~ Stephen Covey

“Healing our family’s history is key to getting better ourselves.”

~ Rebecca Linder Hintze, Healing Your Family History

“Every woman who heals herself helps heal all the women who came before her and all those who will come after her!” ~ Dr. Christiana Northrup, MD

Bugs Love Me!

2009-10-01T16:59:00.000-07:00

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 my case, bugs love me! This is disturbing on so many levels, given my Lyme disease carrying tick bite that went unnoticed and was never formerly requested. I have had a long unreciprocated love affair with bugs. I hate bugs, but unfortunately they have always loved me.

One might ask why this affection? It is a mystery to me. Long before my tick incident, mosquitoes loved me. Is it my pale white, transparent Norwegian skin that makes me an easy target, as these blood sucking long legged flies penetrate my skin? Perhaps it is my particular brand of blood, sweeter than most and tantalizing to their insect taste-buds. As an example, if my husband, Dale, and I were driving in a car with three mosquito passengers, I would return home with three mosquito bites, more than likely excessively swelled and itching intensely. Dale would return unscathed, as if riding with butterflies.

Bugs love me! And now, much to my dismay, household flies, probably mosquito cousins having been sent in search of me, love me too. They don’t just fly around my nose and ears searching for entry. They have adopted me as their pet, sitting defiantly on my hands and wrists as I type, refusing to leave or be swatted away. They seem to know I can’t chase them down in my condition and they seek refuge and solitude with me. When Dale enters the room intent on their demise, they disappear like ghosts in the night, leaving me as the only testimony of their existence. Lately, while I am alone with my torturous flies, I have taken to yelling at them in a stern voice of authority, letting them know I am serious about wanting them to depart. I say, “Go away! Leave me alone! I hate you . . . you miserable excuse for an insect!” They don’t listen. They are not like houseplants that wither and die when unkind words are continuously projected towards them. My flies just sit and bask in the love-hate relationship we have developed. I have unkind thoughts towards them and do not mourn their deaths. I know there is a purpose for everything, but could somebody tell me, why flies? Why bugs? Bugs love me! Their love is unreturned.

“God in His wisdom made the fly, and then forgot to tell us why!”

~ Ogden Nash, “The Fly”

“We hope that, when the insects take over the world, they will remember with gratitude how we took them along on all our picnics. ~ Richard Vaughan

“Some days you're a bug, some days you're a windshield.”

~ Price Cobb

The Bear Necessities of Life!

2009-09-26T16:19:00.000-07:00

“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

I used to run a preschool in my home named, “The Teddy Bear Preschool,” addressing the “Bear Necessities of Life,” a subtitle created from the music of the movie, Jungle Book. I’m not sure when my obsession with teddy bears began, but somehow over the years it grew into a full blown addiction! Maybe it began when I was a young mother with my two year old son, Cordale, sitting beside me on the couch nursing his beloved teddy bear, “Hank,” while I nursed his new baby sister, Aleesha. Perhaps it began much earlier, as a young child, tucking in my assorted stuffed animals in bed with me at night, hoping to hide my favorite long-haired, yellow kitty from my roommate, a teenage sister with a cat paranoia! Maybe I transferred her nightmare fear of cats into a cuddly teddy bear love.

I recall taking a VERY large Teddy Bear named, “HB” (abbreviation for “Huggy Bear”) with me to college, a hand-me-down from my sister, Judy, engaged to be married and ridding herself of old boyfriend memorabilia. HB became a symbol of love and a secretly murmured humorous nickname for one of my clueless college roommate’s boyfriends, when she’d mysteriously disappear for hours every weekend on their dates to make-out mountain!

College HB led to an even bigger adult bear obsession, when as a mother I shopped for special teddy bears at Christmas time, excited when I qualified for “four” store bear give-a-ways one year, enough for all my little girls! To be fair, my husband, Dale, was an enabler, indulging me with gifts of stuffed bears for Christmas and other holidays. On one particular Christmas my daughter, Ashley, and I received “twin” bear gifts, mine from Dale, hers gifted from her brother, Cord. A year later, Ashley sat hugging her well loved, dingy white teddy bear, looking up at my still sparkling white, clean teddy bear, safely out of reach adorning my upper bookshelf, and exclaimed with sadness in her voice, “I feel sorry for your teddy bear. It never gets loved or played with.”

One of the books that I used to read to my children was called, “Ted E. Bear Finds Christmas,” by Diane Mayfield. I liked the clever title and named my Teddy Bear Preschool “bear puppet” the name as well. Ted E. Bear taught the preschoolers their alphabet letter of the week, with an appropriate rhyming song. He was a clever, intelligent bear indeed!

My preschool fulfilled all my bear needs for a while, with bear alphabet and number decorations, bear calendar and weather bear, bear coat hooks, bear name tags, bear snack crackers, bear bingo markers, Teddy Bear Newsletter, worksheet bear stamps, and the teddy bear book bags, professionally stenciled and crafted on my home serger. Each year my little bear preschool began with a teddy bear open house with bear “dot to dot” take homes and homemade teddy bear suckers. I decorated a teddy bear Christmas tree for the preschool holiday bear program. In the spring we had a teddy bear picnic with teddy bear shaped Rice Krispie treats. The year always ended with teddy bear graduation, featuring my preschooler bear singers and a bear diploma. Finally, as all good things eventually come to an end, the Teddy Bear Preschool doors closed when I decided to have one more baby and build the preschool area of my basement into another bedroom. However, my farewell to bears and the storing away of my preschool bear paraphernalia opened up the door to a whole new bear obsession.

“Beanie Babies,” specifically bears, made by Ty from the original beanie babies collection, made their debut into my life when my daughter, Elizabeth, went to college and brought home my very first beanie bear. It appeared to be a fun, harmless collectable, only $5.00. My heart warming inexpensive treasure was a snow white colored bear with black eyes, brown nose, little bear ears and tail, with a red “heart” embroidered on his chest. He was adorned with a scarlet ribbon around his neck, romantically named, “Valentino,” appropriately dated with the birth of February 14, 1994. I DO love clever names and marketing ploys for adorable inanimate objects. I was hooked! More than a century later I have an overwhelming amount of beanie bears for every holiday and special occasion imaginable. Finally I have taken the pledge, joining “Bears Anonymous,” a club that exists only in my mind. I have vowed a “no bears for me” policy. For once you have run out of room on the collectable shelf of life, having hideous amounts of other bears stored in boxes, with no more room for display, it is time to openly recognize you have an addiction and quit! Of course I can’t guarantee there won’t be an occasional emotional relapse with a chewy gummy bear, or my favorite, a delicious chocolate cinnamon bear! And yes, if you’re wondering, I DO have a “build-a-bear,” (two) with clothing and accessories. Because some things really are the “Bear Necessities of Life!”

“Everything in life I share, except of course my teddy bear!”

~ Unknown

“Bears are just about the only toy that can lose just about everything and still maintain their dignity and worth.” ~ Samantha Armstrong

“When everyone else has let you down, there's always Ted.”

~ Clara Ortega

“Teddy bears don't need hearts as they are already stuffed with love!” ~ Author Unknown

Pollyanna and the Grinch

2009-09-19T08:31:00.000-07:00

“The most important thing a father can do for his children is to

love their mother!” ~ Theodore Hesburgh

My parents are a combination of the fictional character, “Pollyanna,” from the famous Disney movie, Pollyanna, and the cartoon character, “Grinch,” from Dr. Seuss’s The Grinch Who Stole Christmas! When I was growing up my mother, Shirley, had dark, almost black hair, not yet grayed from age. I thought she was beautiful like my sister, Vicki. Mom was a gifted, and talented seamstress. She could look at a dress in a magazine and recreate the design using various pattern pieces. My mother must have “sang and shouted for joy” when she knew she was coming to earth to receive a body, as she could literally sing and mesmerize audiences with her vocal performances. Everything about my mother is cultured and refined. She loves theater, art, and literature. Having been unable to go to college, my mother sought education through local college education classes and through books. As a young mother, her bishop told her that she was raising five, very special spirits and she should strive to obtain more knowledge.

My mother taught her children truths and values by writing, relating stories about her life and others she’d known. She used her storytelling skills to write road-shows and plays for local youth performances and later she wrote romantic novels. When my parents built the house I grew up in, mom helped design and decorate it. She was the mother everyone else wanted and I was the envied daughter who actually thought she was cool! She’d often tuck me in bed with her late at night after my father left for work, and we’d watch old black and white movies. My mother loved good movies, especially the ones with well written stories, noble characters, and a moral message. I loved all the honorable, virtuous, classical old movies of her generation. To this day I am transformed by a good story with principled heros and heroines.

My mother is a perpetual optimist. She is Pollyanna and the “glad game,” the author of positive thinking. She has always given me hope and continuously lifted me to greater heights with her never-ending belief in an eventual happily ever after ending!

Humorously, for everything my mother represented while I was growing up, my father, Milton, appeared to be the polar opposite! How they came to have five children with him working hard at night and into the late afternoons, and her staying up late into the wee hours of the morning working on projects, is a mystery, if not a miracle! In his youth, my father, Milt, was a shy, fair haired, blond with wavy hair. However, by the time I met him, the curls had thinned and all but vanished. I thought he was extraordinarily handsome. Best of all, his dry sense of humor kept his children laughing and my mother often apologizing, when his tall tales and seemingly harmless chauvinistic jokes embarrassed her.

High priority on my father’s list of talents was his lifetime love of fishing. Fishing, and his great love for the sport, soared foremost above all of my father’s other passions and interests. He and his father and two brothers more than likely fished every fishing hole from Utah to Wyoming. Our monetary purchases were measured by the dozens of donuts he’d need to make in his chosen bakery profession, but our life values were analogized in humorous quotes about fish. Dad had a fishing joke for every occasion. My father truly was an amazing fisherman and he kept us supplied with an impressive “catch of the day,” although we were mostly unappreciative having usually witnessed the final demise as he gutted, cleaned, and prepared the slimy vertebrate. It was not until I began reading my mother’s history later in life that I realized how often my father went fishing. His long, continuous days of hard work were peppered with his needed and much deserved, fishing stress releaser. However in the days before cell phone and easy phone access, I’m sure my mother spent many desperate, if not lonely hours, handling life’s crises, unable to reach my father.

To my hardworking father, his work was his play, and he was an excellent provider in the days where men were expected to “bring home the bacon” to their stay at home wives who would “fry it up in a pan.” So why did I think of him as the Grinch to my mother’s Pollyanna? Not only were my parents complete opposites in their cultural likes and dislikes, they had contrasting senses of humor! Dad loved to tease my mother and give her the exact opposite reaction than she was looking for. This generous, loving man, who denied us nothing, loved to be the pretend “ba humbug” in my mother’s Christmas, much to my delight and the laughter of my siblings! Now retired and plagued with dementia, my father’s former life has changed. However, his sense of humor is still there, evident by the way he rolls his eyes and by the funny comments mumbled beneath his breath.

When I was a child, I admired my parents and wanted to be just like them. As I grew to maturity, I wanted to be different, better somehow. I would certainly never give the tired old speeches I’d grown up with! Then one day I caught myself saying something to one of my adult children that my mother would have said, realizing at the same time that I’d turned into my mother. Suddenly, it wasn’t such a bad thing after all!

Dedicated to my 87 year old parents for their 68th Wedding Anniversary (September 17, 1941).

Understanding a Woman

2009-09-12T19:34:00.000-07:00

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.”

Excitedly, the man said, “Build a bridge to Hawaii so I can drive over anytime I want.”  

Disappointed, the Lord said, “Your request is very materialistic. Think of the enormous challenges for that kind of undertaking. Consider the supports required to reach the bottom of the Pacific and the concrete and steel it would take! It will nearly exhaust several natural resources. I can do it, but it is hard for me to justify your desire for worldly things. Why don’t you take a little more time and think of something that would honor and glorify me?”

The man sincerely thought about it for a long time. Finally he said, “Lord, I wish that I could understand my wife! I want to know how she feels inside, what she's thinking when she gives me the silent treatment, why she cries, what she means when she says, 'nothings wrong' and how I can make a woman truly happy.”

The Lord replied, “You want two lanes or four on that bridge?”

Definitions of Nine Words Women Use: 

1. FINE: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to stop talking. 

2. FIVE MINUTES: If she is getting dressed, this means half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house. 

3. NOTHING: This is the ‘calm’ before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine. 

4. GO AHEAD: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It! 

5. LOUD SIGH: This is not actually a word, but a nonverbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to #3 for the meaning of nothing.) 

6. THAT’S OKAY: This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake. 

7. THANKS: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or faint. Just say, “You're welcome.” (I want to add in a clause here. This is true, unless she says, “Thanks a lot,” which is PURE sarcasm and she is NOT thanking you at all. DO NOT say, “You're welcome,” as that will bring on a “whatever”). 

8. WHATEVER: This is a subtle way a woman has of saying GO TO XXXX!!! 

9. DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT, I GOT IT: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking, “What's wrong?” For the woman's response refer to #3. 

“Women are meant to be loved . . . not to be understood!” ~ Oscar Wilde

The History of Medicine

2009-09-07T12:06:00.000-07:00

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!

The History of Medicine

• 2000 BC: “Here, eat this root.”
• 1000 AD: “That root is heathen. Here, say this prayer.”
• 1850 AD: “That prayer is superstition. Here, drink this potion.”
• 1940 AD: “That potion is snake oil. Here, swallow this pill.”
• 1985 AD: “That pill is ineffective. Here, take this antibiotic.”
• 2009 AD: “That antibiotic is artificial and does not work anymore. Here, eat this root!”
~ Dr Richard Horowitz, Hyde Park, NY