THANKSGIVING THOUGHTS...

Though I truly love Christmas as the birth celebration of Jesus Christ who is the Light of the World, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.

I'm pretty sure that started happening when I was a little girl, and I experienced some of those special November holidays many times and with many different people in ways that have brought indelible memories of family and friends--and a realization that gratitude cannot be bound only to one day in a year.

Once again, this year in a reflective moment after the turkey dinner was over, my thoughts wandered to some of the truly magnificent words that have been written about thanksgiving and gratitude.  But since I no longer have collections of people with whom I have opportunity to converse, (like children living at home, flying partners on the United jump seat, and even close friends), I decided to share a few of my favorite quotes on this printed page.  

I hope some of them resonate with you as you think of your own reasons for being thankful and grateful in spite of the fact not every day is full of blue skies and sunshine.

It is not

JOY

that makes us

GRATEFUL;

it is

GRATITUDE

that makes us

JOYFUL.

GORDON B. HINCKLEY

"Give Thanksgiving on [your] knees, then stand and move forward to accomplish the Lord's purposes....

The giving of thanks to Deity is essentially a religious act.  It is an acknowledgement of the belief...in the generous outpouring of the blessings of God upon us as a nation.  It is a most remarkable and wonderful thing that the people of the United States of America have written into their law, as well as into their custom, the setting aside of a day to honor, acknowledge, and thank the Father of us all for His beneficence unto us.  I hope that this unusual holiday is so ingrained into our national culture that it will never be removed or challenged in any way."

SARAH BAN BREATHNACH

"The concerto of "Real Life" is playing.  Delight with Thanksgiving in the major and minor chords of its beautiful refrain."

RALPH WALDO EMERSON

"I awoke this morning with devout Thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new.  Shall I not call God the Beautiful, who daily showeth himself so to me in his gifts?

ALMA 34:38

...Receive the Holy Ghost and take upon you the name of Christ; that ye humble yourselves even to the dust, and worship God in whatsoever place ye may be in, in spirit and in truth; and that ye live in thanksgiving daily, for the many mercies and blessings which he doth bestow upon you.

Aphorism Gems

 A Friday afternoon discovery....

My side of the big roll-top desk in our home office where the computer resides gets kind of sloppy sometimes.  Okay...most of the time. 

I'll be working on some project, or I receive a piece of mail, or have a document I want to check over again, so I just set it aside with the idea I will get to it when I have more time.  More often than not, the stuff that isn't a bill or eminently important to take care of right that minute gets dumped on--literally--as I continue to pile one item on top of another. 

Today was one of those days it was necessary to dig into that pile trying to find something I set aside a few weeks ago.  Not only did I find the item I was looking for, but I also found a lot of other items (some from a LONG time ago) like emails I printed so they could be saved and reread and insights from reading or studying from online sources. 

I have spent the last hour perusing and reviewing and enjoying many of them all over again.  Not all of those items have a logical place to be filed except into a big folder that is labeled: "Quotes".  But then they get lost there, too, because I am no longer in the business of writing and needing material to support some of my thoughts on a regular basis like I used to be.  Consequently, they are apt to be "lost" again for a while.

A few years ago, I wrote a blog about my being an aphorism addict.  THAT hasn't changed any.  I still am.  So, today I am taking the opportunity to share a couple of those aphorisms that were on my no-longer- sloppy-side of the desk.  I straightened up that pile while I was enjoying a few minutes of catchy phrases and bits and pieces of electronic correspondence I also saved.

This one is from Elia Gourgouris, PhD, a trusted friend and counselor who now spends his time helping people find happiness in the everyday of their lives.  He calls it "mindset coaching".  His motto is, "Every single day matters!"  How true!

And this next one was written on a pad of paper with no other notation.  

I like the wisdom of it, too.   Applicable in so much of life!

A  TEAM  is not a group of people who work together.

A  TEAM  is a group of people who trust each other.

I hope you will delight in these little gems as much as I enjoyed discovering them once again in that sloppy pile on my desk.  It was...

TIME WELL SPENT!

Harmony

Four Part Harmony

I'm not a singer, but I have always enjoyed accompanying and hearing quartets, mostly SATB with the traditional arrangements.  I've also really liked Barbershop harmony, so when a woman from my Curves club recently invited me to a performance of her small group of Sweet Adelines, I accepted. I figured this would be a good way to reciprocate her coming to my Nativity collection open house a couple of years ago.  It was an activity that sounded doable without having to compromise other commitments.  Hence, I made plans to attend the performance.  And, while doing so, I learned a lot about harmony I did not know before. 

 

Barbershop and SATB choir are two different styles of music. Barbershop is a style of arranging in close, four-part, a cappella harmony, while SATB is a traditional choral arrangement that includes four voice parts: soprano, alto, tenor, and bass. 

In barbershop music, the melody is usually in the second voice with harmony above and below. The arranger harmonizes every melody note with few passing tones or doubles and creates more harmonic movement by adding secondary dominant chord progressions.  The baritone part functions in a unique way, filling in the missing note of each chord. 

In contrast, SATB choir music is arranged for four voice parts: soprano, alto, tenor, and bass. The soprano part is sung by women and boys with unbroken voices, while the alto part is sung by women with lower voices. The tenor part is sung by men with higher voices, and the bass part is sung by men with lower voices. 

During the performance I went to, the audience was given an opportunity to participate in what the director called a "tag".  Their singing group divided into the four voice parts for barbershop: tenor, lead, baritone, and bass.  Then each group sang their part of the "tag" for the song they demonstrated.  The guests were invited to sing with each group and were then instructed to choose which group they felt comfortable singing with.  At the end of the demonstration, each group sang the whole tag together.

Though each part, except the lead or melody, sounded only like disparate notes, together it made a complete and blended whole which was very pleasing.

It was fun. 

The invitation encouraged the recipient to invite others to the performance.  I approached Susan from my congregation with whom I have become friends.  

Susan likes to sing but told me she doesn't sing in groups anymore because of her aging voice.  However, I enjoy playing the organ for our church services when she is the music director.  She has a good feel for the hymns and how to lead me, as well as the congregation. Plus, I wanted to go to this performance. I hoped she would say "yes".  Happily, she accepted.  That meant I wouldn't have to be alone in a group I didn't know. 

There was also a drawing for "white elephant" door prizes. I got an interesting little wooden jar with lid that looks like I could use as a prop in a scene for one of my Nativity displays.  Susan got a ceramic mug with "Colorado" painted on it in script.

At the end of the evening, the group was ushered to a serving area in the Masonic Temple in Fort Collins where the performance was held.  There we had our choice of a couple of dozen different platters of seasonal goodies, fruit platters, and other baked goods.  

It was a friendly lot after all.  The performers and guests alike were easy to talk to, so I needn't have worried about being alone.  But it was nice to have Susan by my side throughout the evening.

The weather has been a perfect Fall season for Colorado.  No early snow.  No hard frost to kill the life out of still green trees whose leaves suddenly turned brown and dead.  Instead, we have been graced with beautiful yellow and orange displays of foliage bounded by vibrant grass and flowers.  The days have been warm and the evenings pleasant.  It was a lovely drive to Fort Collins just before sunset.  The drive home was just as agreeable.  Didn't have to worry about bad traffic, wet roads, or slick patches of ice.  

In all, a great Monday night adventure because I took a chance on getting out of my comfort zone!

TAKING RESPONSIBILITY

I discovered this great insight some years ago and thought of it often, especially when I realized the occasions I was compromising MYSELF with justification and excuses.  

This "autobiography" popped up again the other day when I was looking through some of my files.   I came to the conclusion that it needed a larger audience.

Thought provoking, to say the least. Maybe it rings true with you, as well.

AUTOBIOPRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS

by Portia Nelson

1

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I am lost ... I am helpless.

It isn't my fault.

It takes me forever to find a way out.

11

 walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don't see it.

1 fall in again,

I can't believe I am in the same place but, it isn't my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

111

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in ... it's a habit. my eyes are open. I know where 1 am.

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

iv

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.

v

I walk down another street.

A LIFE-LONG LESSON IN OBEDIENCE

 

                            

TITHING 

My mother was the organist for our congregation during my entire growing up years.  We lived in a small town, and for most of those years there were no other people in our church who could play the organ.  So, my mother managed that assignment quite single-handedly.  It was also her responsibility to choose the hymns for our worship services. 

Not only did I hear the hymns often in my home, but my mother arranged for my piano teacher (who was the organist in her Methodist congregation) to use our church’s hymnbooks in my own piano instruction.  With that arrangement I had two-fold opportunity to become very familiar with the hymns. 

Even as a little girl, I had my favorites:  Battle Hymn of the Republic, Praise to the Man, There Is Sunshine in My Soul Today, and Gently Raise the Sacred Strain, among others.  And… Abide with Me.  Actually, there are two hymns in our hymnal—  Abide with Me, Tis Eventide, and  Abide with Me, each composed by a different person.  I liked them both—first for the melody with the words, and then as I got older for the text message that gives such heartfelt petition for the Savior to abide with us.

I have always been taught that the Savior will abide with us (stay nearby and succor us) as we continually strive to strengthen our individual relationship with Him while keeping our covenant connection to Him.  This is the foundation rock we choose to build our lives on.  It is the source of enduring hope, peace, and joy, just as we sing in those two hymns.   We abide in the Savior’s love by keeping His commandments.

Curious to know if I had successfully taught this principle of “abiding” to my children, I sent a message to 19 of my children and grandchildren asking what their experiences have been in the correlation of their keeping the commandments and having the Savior abide with them.  All who responded gave pretty much the same response—their lives go more smoothly, and their trials and setbacks have the proper perspective because they know the Lord is abiding with them.

I, too, could think of so many general ways I have been blessed with the abiding presence of Christ as I have kept “the commandments”.  There is always an almost imperceptible feeling that Christ is nearby. 

But I also remembered some very specific times I have kept a singular commandment that brought added testimony of the Savior’s love and abiding influence. 

This is one of those lessons in obedience to a commandment:

One summer between school years at Brigham Young University, my bishop, who owned a construction company, invited me to work part-time in the office at his business.  It was a great job. However, the office was in a rather isolated part of our town where there were only industrial concerns like the construction company, the local cement plant, a distribution warehouse, and a lumber yard.  No residential areas at all.  So completely off the beaten path, in fact, no one ever wandered through that complex.

The door to the office where I worked was in front of my desk and in direct eye-line with the gravel lot where I parked my car.  Mine was usually the only car in that place all day long.  And, since we were all a friendly lot in our town, no one bothered to lock car doors.  Including me.  I would even leave my purse on the front seat of the car because there was no obvious need for me to take it into the office with me.  What would I use it for?

One day near the end of the summer, I parked my car in front of the office leaving my purse on the front seat, as usual.  However, on this particular day there was a twenty-dollar bill in my purse which was my tithing money.*   Why in the world did I have that in my purse? I don’t have a clue.  However, as I got into the car to go home for lunch, I had a thought to look into my purse.  Much to my horror, the money was gone! 

Who could have taken it?  While sitting at my desk that morning I could see my car the whole time.  No one had opened the car door and then opened my purse.  In fact, no one ever came around that area anyway.  We were literally in the boonies.

As I shared the crushing news with my mother that I now had no money to pay my tithing, she gently suggested that I go to the bank and withdraw another $20 to pay my tithing—and that the Lord would provide. But HOW was I going to have enough money to pay for my housing expense when I went back to BYU?  Twenty dollars was one month’s rent!  

But I knew my mom was right.  I had paid a full tithing on all the money I had earned over the years babysitting, delivering newspapers and taking in ironing.  It was an established habit.  Yet this was a tough way to compensate for my stupidity.  

Almost reluctantly, I went to the bank to withdraw the $20.  And wisely kept the money on my person until I turned it into our bishop at church the following Sunday.

It was too embarrassing to tell my bishop/employer what a foolish thing I had done.  Leaving my purse in the car—with my tithing money in it, no less.  I kept that to myself.  I was too humiliated to admit my folly!

Yet, quite surprisingly a couple of weeks later, my bishop/employer came into the office and told me that he had been really pleased with my work that summer.  He had decided to increase my pay by twenty-five cents an hour.  In 1965 the minimum wage was one whole dollar.  So, a 25-cent raise was significant!!!  

When it was time for me to return to college, and I tallied up my earnings, that $.25/an hour was just exactly—to the PENNY—enough to make up the $20 I had taken out of my savings account to pay my tithing. 

The Lord had remembered my need and provided a way to pay my rent because I had been obedient to that very important commandment of tithing as part of my covenant promise to him.

I am a witness that same outcome of obedience continues to be true in my life.  I know without doubt that Jesus Christ abides in us as we choose to make Him the foundation of all we do.

Obedience is a blessing....

*(Tithing is a "free-will offering" of 10 % of a person's "increase" which is given to the church.  In this day and age tithing is paid in monetary equivalents.)

x

A COLLEGE FRIENDSHIP STORY

 ROOMMATE EXTRAORDINAIRE  

                                            

I had over a dozen roommates during the four years I was a student at BYU.  All of them added some kind of positive influence to my life and enhanced my relationship experiences in various ways.  But it was a young woman I met when I first arrived at BYU that made the biggest impact on me.

Sue actually lived upstairs from me during our freshman year, however we became friends and decided to be roommates the next year…and the next.  That was a choice that had so many great outcomes. 

This roommate was president of our dorm.  I was a counselor in the Relief Society.  That gave us double opportunity to be together because our dorm mother was the Relief Society President and included the two of us as partners, not only in helping the girls build friendships at our dorm home but also helping them build a sisterhood at Church.

Even though I had seven sisters, they were all much older than I was. Therefore, we didn’t have the kind of sister connection many sisters who are close in age have.  I found that kind of bond with this new friend. I remember lying in bed one night while we were talking to each other and thinking how much I loved Sue!  This was the “sister” experience I had never had.

We had different majors.  Nevertheless, our interests were very similar, so it was easy to discuss a lot of different topics related to our classes. We even took a couple of required classes together. Each knew the other’s student number and would check exam scores, etc., if we were near the other’s classroom.  We had similar ideas of keeping house, doing the cooking responsibilities, and how to have fun.  It was a symbiotic relationship in a lot of ways.

Neither of us was even remotely athletic, but we were game to try the same Women’s Physical Fitness class since we had to have a PE credit to graduate.  What a hoot as we bounced up and down doing jumping jacks, learned the basics of soccer, and devised a routine to the theme from Peter Gunn, a popular television series at the time!   

I’ll never forget how we got through the required biology class we took together by making up pretend “Headlines” for every remotely funny incident that happened each period.  “Coed Penned to Death Following Ballpoint Malfunction” was one of the attention-grabbing titles after another student’s pen came apart and the tiny spring zinged her neck.  We would fall over laughing about that one every time either of us repeated the headline.

It was Sue who introduced me to the local folk trio The Three D’s who were so popular at BYU during the 60’s.  We just about wore out the LP “The Soul of Poetry” playing it over and over nearly every day.  My memories were still so vibrant of the classical poetry set to the contemporary folk music of the 3 D’s, I even went online a few years ago and found the CD with all the original selections including Jabberwock by Lewis Carroll and Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe.  What reminiscences of those days at B-15 Wymount Terrace.

We shared our family histories with each other and pretty much knew the names of parents, siblings, in-laws, nieces and nephews and significant others—including the idiosyncrasies and the sad experiences, too.  We felt like we were related.

When we graduated in 1968 and each began a different road in life, Sue and I kept in touch with news over the years until it finally became only an exchange at Christmas and birthdays.  Still, we were friendly and interested in each other in spite of the years slipping by. But when her son called a couple of years ago just after Christmas and said he had seen my latest holiday greeting to her, I was truly saddened when he said he thought I would like to know Sue had passed before Thanksgiving. 

It was a friendship that long outlived my college career.  I miss her!

 

SIX SMALL SQUARES

When I retired from United Airlines as a flight attendant three years ago, I missed the camaraderie of other flight attendants, as well as the general atmosphere of the whole flying industry.  So, I accepted an invitation to join a national organization for retired flight attendants called Clipped Wings.  It was nice to rub shoulders with people who knew pretty much what that part of my life had been like.  But I didn't know very many of the members, most of whom had started to fly long before my foray into that world the year I was 55.  The difference between their seniority and my seniority was vast, which meant I didn't fly very often with my peers.  I mostly flew with people much younger than I was, some even so much younger I could have been their mother!!

However, that membership in Clipped Wings put me in touch with a woman whom I had truly enjoyed having on my crew once in a while when I was flying. She had started a knitting group a few years ago and inquired if I would be interested in joining them.  I told Susan that I wasn't into knitting...or crocheting, either...like some of the women in the group did.  In fact, I told her, I had learned the basics of both those kinds of handwork when I was a girl, but I literally hadn't crocheted anything since I had been a sophomore in college and my roommate "forced" me to crochet a small rug, along with several girls in the dorm who were doing the same project.  Though I finished the rug--and NEVER used it--I remembered that endeavor as kind of distressing to get through.

Susan assured me that she would still love to have me come--just to visit with her and the others in the group.  She told me some of them didn't bring handwork either, so I wouldn't be the only one not working on some project.   

The group meets in Parker every month at the local library.  I wasn't keen on the distance between my home in Johnstown and the monthly get-togethers, but I was motivated enough to visit with other flight attendants and catch up on the news with United Airlines, so I agreed to go to the meetings.

All went well for some time.  It was true.  A few of the others only visited, too, but because some of the knitting group are still actively flying, those non-knitters were not always in attendance.  I alone seemingly sat idle while the click of industry was loud all around me along with discussions of patterns, yarn shops, and displays of finished projects.  I was definitely on the outer fringes of this "in crowd"!

Then one day about three months ago, Susan announced that it was time to start creating blankets to donate to Denver General Hospital as they had done regularly before the Pandemic.  If each one of us brought only six small squares, that would be enough to assemble more blankets for the needy!

Susan mailed me a simple pattern and gave me a couple of half used skeins of yarn to get started.  I didn't have a clue how to even read the directions!  So, I began asking all of my friends if they crocheted.  Not one of them did!  However, Corky said her next-door neighbor Kathleen did.  Was this the neighbor Corky had brought with her to my Nativity open house at Christmas?  "Yes.  I'll give you her number."

I was a little apprehensive about calling for help to a woman whom I had only seen before for a limited time.  But I was determined to see if I could step up to this request.  After all, it was only six, small squares that I had to produce.

I left Corky's neighbor Kathleen a message with my sad tale of being 78 years old and needing help to do some simple crocheting.  Kathleen called me back shortly after that and graciously said she would be happy to help me out.  Her neighbor had taught her to crochet when she was just a little girl, too.  Only Kathleen liked it and stuck with it until now she was crocheting and knitting extremely complicated patterns for Afghans, scarves, sweaters, hats, etc.  We made a date for her to come over to my house and re-teach me everything I had forgotten from lack of interest.

When Kathleen arrived on the appointed day, she brought along yarn, needles, a simple instruction book and a very patient and cheerful disposition!  I showed her the directions Susan had given me, and we started in with a simple chain to begin the first square.  My fingers? Stiff!  Awkward!  And fumbling errantly while I struggled to hold the crochet hook in one hand and the yarn in the other as Kathleen motivated me with a continuous string of encouraging words.

After two and a half hours, Kathleen left me with five completed rows out of the twelve needed for the blanket square.  And with an invitation to call anytime I needed help, because she had run next door many times asking her neighbor to help her during her learning process.  

It was with relief that I set the crocheting aside to fix supper that afternoon and forget about the project for a while. Unfortunately, it was several days before I took up needle and yarn in hand to begin again.  Not surprisingly, I had pretty much forgotten exactly the correct procedure to continue crocheting where I had left off.  The instructions were of no use to me.  It was like reading a foreign language.  I do better with ROTE learning.  Show me and let me imitate the steps.  I had better call Kathleen!

When I contacted Kathleen with my sad tale of woe, she laughed.  "Of course!  Come on over."  So, I did, and she showed me how to begin anew.  In the meantime, we exchanged life stories and the time sailed by.  Her hands fairly flew with her project, and the next thing I knew, I had finished my first square!  "Okay chain 25 again and get that following row started."  But she had to help me do it.

This time however, when I was by myself and picked up the second square I was crocheting, I was able to start where I left off and go all the way through the 12th row--albeit with numerous times I had to pull out some stitches when I could see I had done something wrong.

The date for the next knitting group meeting had been moved up a week--and it was fast approaching!  No way I was going to be able to do four more, even if I really WANTED to.  Kathleen volunteered to crochet the remaining four of the half dozen and said she would bring them over to my house when she was done.  Oh, happy day!

At the appointed time Kathleen delivered the four squares I needed, plus two more squares from a second skein of yarn...and an abbreviated little square that was just the right size to tuck into the box with the rubber dolly I was sending to my little great grand baby.  How cute! 

D-DAY!  Delivery day to my meeting in Parker....

I didn't mind the drive so much this time as I have before.  It was kind of exciting to think of the expressions on everyone's faces as I showed them my requisite "six small squares" for the blanket project.  Susan had said she would put the squares together to make the blankets for donation.  Didn't matter the color, patterns, etc. as long as they were all six inches each.  I wondered how my six squares of pink and white would look assembled with other squares to make a blanket.

As I walked into the meeting room, I held up the completed six squares and announced, "TA DA!!!"  Truthfully the whole group was pretty surprised while one of them braved the question, "YOU did all these?" 

I held up MY contribution--"Nope!  I just did these two.  I had a wonderful surrogate named Kathleen who crocheted the other four squares AND these two squares to finish out the yarn.  Will you be able to use them, too?"

Mary Beth asked, "Didn't you just love it once you got going on it?"  Sadly, I had to confess that no, I did not.  I enjoyed visiting with my surrogate/now friend while we were together.  But it's just not my thing.  I do better work with a pencil.  But I told them that after a while what I had learned years ago came back to me, and I could hold the hook and the yarn more comfortably that way.  And, yes, once I got going, and felt more confident, it didn't seem so taxing.  But I could never see myself making a beautiful sweater with variegated yarn like Lisa was making, or a colorful scarf big enough to use as a lap blanket that Mary Kaye was knitting.  Or even the complicated squares that Mary Beth was crocheting into a lacy shell pattern.  And goodness NO! not the detailed projects Susan was working on!

As the morning slipped by, I sat there visiting with the rest as I heard recaps of recent United incidents in the news, updates about husbands' health, escapades of grown children who were having challenges of their own, and anecdotes of other flight attendants while sipping hot chocolate and nibbling on sweet German treats Susan had brought from her Frankfort trip.  But I was empty-handed as far as a project.  

I had gently declined more yarn to make another square while we were all together.  That was too scary!  How would I even begin to start that same chain and then turn it so I could double crochet into each stitch to make the second row, then a third row and beyond without my friend Kathleen there by my side with her watchful eye and enthusiastic encouragement? Not possible!  It was too embarrassing to confess I STILL needed help.

Just before we finished the three-hour get-together, Susan reminded everyone to keep on making those squares!  That's when Marcie leaned over and whispered to me that when they first started to meet, it WAS just visiting.  Then Susan felt like they needed to be more productive and suggested the blanket project. "There is a lot of need in the world, and six small squares each could make a difference for a lot of people," she had told them.  

"Only" visiting might not have been productive for them, but I attend a lot of meetings and do a lot of stuff for other people.  So, I was grateful to have a regular block of time to look forward to that I could just sit and visit and not have to be productive.  I guess it's all in perspective. Perhaps this isn't the group for me after all, because I didn't feel a bit guilty just sitting there while the others' hands worked as quickly as their mouths.

When it was time to leave for the now loooong drive home, one from the group called out, "Maybe your friend could keep making squares for the crocheted blankets going to the hospital?"

I just laughed...and waved goodbye!

MEMORIES of a PRICELESS GIFT

 

Today is 23 years since I boarded a plane for Chicago to embark on a totally new career as a flight attendant for United Airlines!

What a complete about-face that was, but it was one of the best things I ever did.  I can't even begin to measure the blessings and growth that came to me as I learned about life in a whole different arena.

I am thinking about how I had no idea what was before me when I got to United's training center to begin that chapter in my life.  If I'd had any inkling what a challenge it was going to be in a lot of ways, I might not have been brave enough to pack a bag and wave good-bye.  Glad I didn't know!

Definitely, I wish I could remember the names of all the people I rubbed shoulders with.  But there were so many! Sometimes when I read my trip journals from that period of time, I see a glimpse here and there of someone I would have liked to have had an opportunity to form a solid friendship.  But that was just for a moment in time.  And for the memories.

It's hard to believe I have now been retired for three years as of this day, too.  Twenty years in a nice little package. Twenty years of memories.

It was a gift!

SECRET ANNIVERSARIES OF THE HEART

                        "The holiest of all holidays are those

Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;

The secret anniversaries of the heart."

                 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This month of July 2023 marked 36 years since my 10-year-old blond-haired, blue-eyed boy Jeremy fell from a lofty Cottonwood tree and died the following afternoon of a severe closed head injury. 

The open-wound pain of Jeremy's death eased long ago. First to a constant ache, then as more time went on to a quiet sorrow.  As more years have gone by, the memories continue to be sweet, but the anniversary day of his death still brings a vivid remembrance of that awful event, and I sometimes find myself melancholy for no reason that I can put my finger on other than July 17th is a dreaded day on the calendar.

Without a doubt, I have already done the most difficult thing imaginable: survived my child's funeral.  And I got out of bed on the days when that seemed impossible so I could work with my family to make a "new norm" without Jeremy who once was part of our life's daily structure.

Yet, I choose to be warmed by tender recollections during every July.  Though I know tears will swell again, I take a departure from my usual activities.  There is no use pretending that this day is like any other; it isn't.  

I've learned not to wait for someone to remember. MY grief easily slips out of mind, even within the closet circle of family and friends, though this year I was lovingly surprised by two people who extended themselves to say they were thinking of me.  

I think again of all the signs of care which surrounded us in those difficult first days.  Most importantly the sight of family and friends gathered to grieve and to pray with us.  And I give thanks for the eternal nature of friendship, too.

Most of all, I count my blessings for the ten short years that Jeremy was part of our mortal life.  That way I can get through the annual reminder of this loss.  This secret anniversary of my heart.  

Then I take flowers to Jeremy's grave.  Sometimes I invite someone special to me to come along.  Sometimes I go alone.  Either way, I take time to appreciate the unique headstone fashioned from the drawings of Jeremy's siblings which depicted his favorites--elephants and dinosaurs.  Their names and ages are on the back of the stone, dedicated to the boy who fell out of a tree.

Some hearts were meant to be close...no matter what distance lies between them.

It is a holy holiday....

IN LIFE AS IN BASKETBALL

  In Life      In Basketball

I was looking at some of my college stuff recently and started thinking about friends and roommates during that time, some of whom have already passed away.

There were two cute girls from California in my dorm who lived upstairs from me.  Elaine was blond, Meagan was brunette.  They were inseparable and so fun to be around.  They laughed, they giggled, they were friendly with everyone, and were the "life of the party" whether it was a large group or just a small gaggle of girls.  

One day soon after the school year began, they took one look at my long eye lashes and proceeded to take me in hand to teach me how to use eye makeup-- more than just a brush of mascara I managed while getting ready for the day.  They introduced me to the hippie look that emphasized more color play on the eyes, those soft colors which focused on adding depth coupled with winged eyeliner, along with loads of mascara and blush.  Took the country girl out of me for sure!  And what a difference it made in my looks and my self-esteem.  Who knew?

Meagan was dating a young man who played basketball for UCLA.  This was in the mid 60s when the Bruins were winning championships all over the place.   Lew Alcindor (later known as Kareem Abdul Jabbar) was one of his teammates, and the storied John Wooden was their coach.  Meagan used to tell us all about the team, plus the motivational highlights her boyfriend said the coach would give the team when they practiced.  So many practical directions that were as helpful on the basketball court as in everyday life.

There was one good piece of tactical advice which Coach Wooden emphasized over and over with the team, which I still think of when I get stumped about how I should take care of some sort of task I'm not sure just exactly how to tackle.  It's elementary, really.  But I have used these wise words over the years, and the injunction works every time.  And I'm not talking about when I play basketball--HAHAHA!

 

Don't let what you DON'T know get in the way of what you DO know."

I've found that if I approach a problem in that way, I often get ideas that help me complete the part I'm not really sure how to manage.  Simple words.  Profound message.

Thanks, Coach Wooden....

GOOD NEIGHBOR STORY

Over the years I have had my share of good neighbors who assisted me with yard work, loaned stuff to me, helped me get into my garage when the spring on the opener was broken, righted my Christmas tree when it fell over, and lots of other little gestures that relieved me immensely at the time I needed some help.  In short, these neighbors were genuinely friendly and willing to lend a hand any time the need arose.  Be they bidden by me or proactive on their own initiative, I have been blessed many, many times.

So, I was particularly interested when I read the experience of a man who wrote about how his neighbor was always there for him.  He recounted some of those experiences, including one where the neighbor helped him with a huge project in his back yard because the man's son wanted to have his wedding reception there.

On the occasion of the story I read, there had been a big snowstorm where the two men lived.  The author thought he would shovel his neighbor's walks and driveway as a kind of reciprocal gesture. However, when he went out of his house, his neighbor had already shoveled his own walks, AND he had shoveled the author's, too!

John P. Rich, the author of that story I read in the April 2023 Liahona Magazine, went back into his house and wrote this little poem.  It's not great poetry, but it conveys a stirring message about the personality of his neighbor, President Russell M. Nelson.

SERMONS

 I’ve seen sermons in stone

And sermons in flowers

Sermons that take minutes

Sermons that take hours

But I’ve just seen a sermon

Delivered in labor

That showed me perfectly

How to be a good neighbor

John P. Rich