THIS JOB CAN MAKE YOU CRAZY@#$%&*?!

A few weeks ago when I had a layover for the first time in Missoula, Montana, I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't go back to sleep.  I had been all set for a good night's rest because I was in my own  Mountain Time Zone and didn't even have to get up until 5:30 a.m.   A couple hours later than we had been getting up on layovers all month.  Both good circumstances for a full night of sleep. 

But when my peepers wouldn't close again an hour or so after midnight when I got up to go to the bathroom--and I had tried every trick in the book to get back to sleep including the ones my mother taught me when I was growing up--I began to panic.  I NEVER look at the clock in the middle of the night just so I don't start counting the hours that I have left for a potentially good night's rest.  That can put me into a panic right there if there is less than an hour:  "I'll never be able to get enough rest for a full day of flying ahead of me.!"  Then if I don't take a peek at the clock, I start to second guess myself that I didn't turn the alarm on.  That I didn't set the alarm for the right time.  That I didn't even set the alarm at all! 

I tried NOT to look at the clock.  Too late!  My eyes automatically caught the red display which revealed I had been tossing and turning for about two and a half hours.  I suspect I had even gone to sleep and dreamed I was awake.  I've done THAT before.  Then miraculously, mercifully, I fell into a deep, deep sleep but woke up abruptly because of my very vividly real dream. 

I dreamed I was in a group somewhere--it had started out with Judy in the group--and there was a male Southwest flight attendant.  The details blurred as I gradually awakened, but I was supposed to be getting ready for a 7 am pick up.  The Southwest guy was boasting about something, and I thought maybe I had better just check the clock while he was telling his story.  It was 8:30 am!

I was freaked out and said I would just have to go to work the way I was dressed  I still had my uniform on, but I remember trying to pull it off over my head and also a big necklace with some red daisies on it.  I recall thinking I was going to have to have someone in the group take me to DIA.  I distinctly saw the way to DIA from Brice and Judy's house to the airport.  That was when I woke up for real and was afraid to look at the clock because the memory of that awful morning in Houston when the alarm was off by an hour and I had to go without a shower, etc. has been etched permanently onto my subconscious brain. Mind games!

My heart was racing because of my dream.   I was REALLY scared to look at the clock.  But I knew I had to.  It was 5:10 am!  I hadn't been asleep very long, yet I had managed to stuff a whole detailed story full of stress into that compressed byte of time while I was asleep.  After the feeling of relief that I wasn't late after all, it still took me a few minutes lying there to calm my racing heart.  While I was staring at the ceiling I thought of an experience I had in Chicago just a few months after I began flying.

It was Fall of 2000 when I had luckily found a nice two-bedroom apartment in Mount Prospect  not too far from United's Training Center in Elk Grove Village.  My roommates were young, about the same ages as my older kids.  The young man Greg and the beautiful young woman Renata deBorba (ALWAYS thought that was a classy name!) shared one of the bedrooms--not as boyfriend/girlfriend, though--and I shared the other bedroom with an attractive young woman by the name of Shannon O'Donnell.  Because our suitcases and totes took up so much space, we had a "house rule" that we parked all our suitcases out in a designated space in the living room. 

I had let Brittany take my car to Provo to have at college (what WAS the name of that place?).  I had cavalierly waved goodbye to her as I sailed out the door for DIA and six weeks of training in Chicago just days before her classes started.  What a contrast to the times Harold and Brice left for college.  I had "mother-henned" the big boys into their dorm rooms at BYU and Ricks, respectively, but poor Britty I left to get where she needed to go on her own.  Thankfully, big sister Burgandy took her and her stuff over to Provo.  So, when Britty called and asked if she could take my car to college--what could I say after I had so unceremoniously left her to fend for herself in a new college experience?  "Of course, you can." 

However, the initial request for Brittany to have my car at her disposal until such and such a time was extended when she called and wheedled me into a new agreement terminating several more weeks down the road.  That meant I was without wheels in Chicago, but it was a doable thing.  As soon as I got my reserve assignment each time, I would call a taxi and take the $5/5 minute ride to the Training Center so I could catch the UAL bus headed for O'Hare.  It all worked out.

One night I was home alone in the apartment.  The others were each on a trip, so I turned out all the lights and went to bed, knowing that I would probably get a call from the Crew Desk for my own trip sometime after midnight.  Not long after I went to bed, my roommates each came home from their assignments, said a brief "hello" and also went to bed.

Sure enough, about four hours later I got a call for a 6 a.m. standby assignment at O'Hare.  I called for a taxi pick-up at 5:30am and reset my alarm so I could sleep another hour or so. When it was time to get up, I moved through the dark of our bedroom to the bathroom which was connected to mine and Shannon's room so I could get ready.  (Greg and Renata used the main bathroom for their personal care.)  After I was completely prepared for work, I tiptoed out to the main room and flipped on the light so I could put a few things into my bag. 

Mine was the only suitcase and tote siting in the living room.  The rest of the area was bare! I shook my head like maybe I wasn't seeing straight.  Where were the other bags that were supposed to be parked next to mine?   All three of them had come in after I had gone to bed.

I just stared at my suitcase for a minute or so.  Then I tiptoed back to my bedroom and gently turned on the light.  Shannon's bed was empty!  I walked to the other side of the apartment and went down the short hallway to Greg and Renata's room.  Again I carefully turned on the light switch.  Their beds were empty, too!  But I knew they had come home!  I had talked to them before I went back to sleep and they went to bed.  Yet they clearly weren't there!

I called the Crew Desk.  "This is Georgia Nichols, 265584.  Did you call me and give me a standby assignment for 6 a.m.?"  The  voice on the other end told me "no" and that my number on the board still hadn't come up.  "Are you sure?"  After the crew scheduler assured me I did NOT have an assignment, I then told her the whole story.  It was apparent by my file number that I was fairly new.  So she probably "got it" right away.  Then she started to chuckle.

"Honey, this job will make you crazy!  Cancel that taxi and go back to bed!"

So I did.  Never did get a call with an assignment for the entire rest of the day.  And when my roommates came home the next afternoon, we all got a huge laugh out of the dream I had that was sooo real I got up and got ready to go to work.

Needless to say, the crew scheduler was right. 

This job has made me crazy@#$%&*?!

THE LAST HURRAH...!

AUTUMN DAY...BRIGHT AND GAY!

The weather has remained absolutely phenomenal for the past month.  This is really the first and ONLY Autumn Season I can remember in all my time in Colorado--nearly 50 years now since 1968--that there hasn't been at least one hard frost before November.  Or even a skiff of snow on those rare years we actually HAD an Autumn. 

But this year has been exceptional.  Though most of the trees have lost their leaves, the grass isn't really brown (and some lawns are still lush green) there are still flowers blooming in the gardens.  I have gone out twice now in the last two weeks to round up the dead plants, empty the garden containers, and even put the lawn furniture away.  I have come back in without having accomplished my goal because so many flowers are still blooming.  I've just rearranged the pots and watered the ones which needed a perk. 

All of the patio furniture has been cleaned and is in the garage, shrouded for next summer.   Except for the metal chaise lounge which I folded and left out "just in case" I might get an opportunity to sit on the patio one last time. 

That one last time was today.  We had our Regional Video Conference at 10 am- noon at our stake center across from the Temple.  I had been kind of bummed about having to attend a SECOND stake conference after our "real" one in September, but it was a very spiritual and uplifting meeting.  I don't remember any details about the last one we had, but I definitely felt good about this one.  As we walked to the car, the day was just brilliant and "feel-good", especially with the temple in view.  A definite combination of sun and Son.

So, I decided today was the day I was going to sit outside for one last time.  AND kill two birds with one stone while I was out there.  Since I wasn't able to watch the special "Teaching in the Savior's Way" broadcast yesterday because I wasn't anywhere near a place I could tune in  even on my tablet, I figured why not sit outside and enjoy concurrently both the lingering ambiance of the back yard and the spiritual insight to the Savior's unique way of teaching . 

Truth be told, I had to wrap up in a blanket because even though the temperature was over 70 degrees, the back of the house was already in shadow, and the wind was chilly.  Reminded me of growing up in Wyoming.  Chill wind even on a summer's day that would make a jacket and even a blanket welcome.  But once ensconced in a little cocoon before I pushed "play", all was well and I was comfortable.  What a great way to attend a meeting!

Daylight savings time is over.  The sun will be gone in another thirty minutes, but right now the slant of light is still warm and buttery as it comes in the front windows.  Cold has been forecast for tomorrow.  Does that mean snow is just around the corner?  I suppose so.  One day soon, I'll get up and see everything covered in white.  It will be a shock, as that first storm always is, but it will also be more seasonal.  And then we can get on with our late year agendas.

Next it will be over the river and through the woods....but not to this grandma's.  I am scheduled to fly Tuesday through Saturday of Thanksgiving week.  Boo Hoo!

ONE WOMAN'S QUEST TO STAY VALIANT IN HER TESTIMONY OF JESUS CHRIST AND HIS GOSPEL...

INTRODUCTION:  Not surprisingly with the new Fort Collins Temple in the forefront of our lives for the past six months, it seemed natural  for the bishopric of the Carlson Farm Ward in Johnstown to focus the topics for Sacrament Meeting talks around temples, temple work, temple experiences, being worthy for a recommend, etc.

The temple dedication had just taken place three days before I returned from a trip late one night and listened to my one voice message.  It was from the second counselor in the bishopric who asked me to give a talk on the following Sunday (October 23, 2016) addressing how I stay valiant in my testimony, with particular reference as to how that affects my temple worship.

It was an easy talk to prepare.  I have a whole "United Airlines lifetime" of material from which I could write a BOOK, let alone a talk for Sacrament Meeting.  I sat down at the desk in my Marriott Hotel room in Atlanta a couple of nights later after we were done flying for the day, and this is what I wrote and delivered to the congregation for my talk.

I thought maybe you might like to hear about some of my efforts to keep valiant in my testimony working in an industry that does little to harbor sacred feelings,  religious experiences, or support for the basic moral laws which have always been the foundation of marriage and family.  It has not always been simple or easy, but it is definitely doable!

THE TALK:

When the new Millennium dawned at the turn of the 21st century, it presented some options that had not been available before.  Consequently, I decided to leave the structured Monday through Friday work week in corporate America and join the service industry with its irregular schedules and iffy opportunities for a "normal" life. That meant Sundays would be in question, as well as regular time for a calling in the ward.

I struggled with the pros and cons of those questions but figured the dilemma would automatically be taken care of for me because United Airlines probably would NOT accept my application for employment as a flight attendant.  After all I was a 54 year old woman living a sheltered life, with a home, a family, and lots of tethers to those things.  I could get myself a piece of bread and to the bathroom in five languages but that hardly constituted being able to "speak" a foreign language.

At that time, United was looking for mature people from the business world who had sat in their planes' business seats.  That was ME during the years I had traveled for the corporations with whom I had worked.  After a long interview process the deal was clinched when, during a final interview at United's corporate headquarters in Chicago, I was asked if United hired me, what could I bring to United.

After I answered, "Thirty years ago when I graduated from college your recruiters were looking for beauty.  Now you are looking for experience, and I have a lifetime of it."  The interviewer looked at me and said, "I think we want you!"

And THAT'S when I had to decide whether or not I wanted to swing 180 degrees from everything I had been used to for so many years. 

I accepted United's offer and figured the Lord would get me through this new experience just as he had for every other endeavor and challenge in my life prior to that time.  But I was also aware that wouldn't happen without a lot of effort on my part, as well, starting with my personal desire which was to stay as close to the Church and the gospel of Jesus Christ as I could.

Truthfully, if I had not had that determination it would have been soooo easy to set my membership in the Kingdom aside and succumb to an easier way to deal with my inability to control my schedule.

My first five years with United was straight reserve:  that means they told me where, when and how long.  I did have the ability to submit a bid every month for what days I wanted to work, but my seniority was so low that during most of that time, including one stretch of 13 months where I had NO SCHEDULED Sunday off, my days off were middle of the week days--never a weekend.  I never got any of the choices I submitted that would allow me to attend meetings at home.  That was discouraging!

There are a fair number of flight attendants who belong to the Church that I have run into over the years who have told me they are no longer active because their schedule didn't allow it.  Or those who say they belong to the Church but now drink coffee or tea because they had to stay awake or wanted a hot drink, or everyone else is having Starbucks!  Or many even who have served missions but have turned to alternative life styles and a complete reversal toward the doctrine about marriage and the family. Their political choices are usually polar opposite of what mine are, as well. 

I can see where it would be easy to be nervous about the people in the large and spacious building mocking and pointing fingers.  The work force in the airline industry is full of them.  On occasion, I have had people tell me my church is intolerant, practices polygamy, and is biased.   And yet, wonder of wonders, I have flown with a couple of people who have actually defended my faith and the Church for me to others because they know members of the Church who DO live the principles and commandments of the gospel.

There was a choice from day one whether or not I was going to hold onto the iron rod.  I wanted to hold to the rod.  So, this is how I have tried to remain valiant in my testimony.

FIRST It seemed imperative that I keep my life away from home as regular as if I were home.  Each night when I get to my hotel room, one of the first things I do is take out a small picture of the temple.  That makes my hotel room a holy place for as long as I am there.  This last week I retired my little picture of the Denver Temple and replaced it with a picture of the Fort Collins Temple. 

Every day I have a morning devotional in my hotel room which I begin with my morning prayer, then I sing a hymn and study my scriptures before I get ready for my flights and leave for the airport.

No matter where I am on Monday nights, I have Family Home Evening for one in my hotel room.  It isn’t long or elaborate, but I study some gospel principle then give myself an assignment that relates specifically to what I studied.  And I usually end with a treat, just like at home.

SECOND I determined that I could have a Sabbath attitude even if I had to fly on Sunday. 

If my trip started later in the day, I tried to attend some part of my own ward either in Chicago or here in Colorado.  The same with coming in from a trip later in the day on  Sunday --I have stopped at chapels along the way home in order to attend Church and sometimes only got there in time for Relief Society.  That's when I loved the chapels that had wards meeting as late as two or two-thirty p.m. start time.  It meant I could have a Sabbath experience. 

Many, many times in those first years (and even some after that) I had layovers on Sunday that were long enough where I could either walk or rent a car or take a taxi or the train to the nearest chapel.  I started by looking in the phone book for the telephone number of the bishop’s office or the hall phone to see if there were any ward members who could swing by and pick me up for Church.  As time went on that became easier because I could just look on the Church’s website for the nearest location of a ward.   

I have been to Church in Chicago, Kansas City, Washington DC, Manchester New Hampshire, Philadelphia, St. Petersburg, Los Angeles, a Tongan ward in San Francisco, St. Louis, Atlanta, Sioux Falls, Portland, Seattle, Detroit, and Orlando among other cities. A couple of times Louis ended up in the same city as I was in while he was traveling for HIS work and I showed him where we could go to Church together. 

On one occasion, I called a bishop who told me there were no ward members near my hotel, but that I could take the train from the airport to the Oakland station where I would be able to see the chapel out the train window.  That would be my stop.  I did that and walked over to the church building where I met Bishop Jermaine Sullivan and many other members of the Atlanta Ward whom I recognized a couple of years later when I saw the movie MEET THE MORMONS!

Ward members in all of those places have been the kind of people you hear about in General Conference talks...the ones who come up to the stranger in their midst and welcome them.  Many have given me their phone numbers in case I ever had that same layover on a Sunday again.  I always assured them that my being with them that day was a once in a lifetime experience, yet on a few occasions I did have a layover on a Sunday again in the same city.  And I did indeed call those people who then went out of their way to pick me up so I could attend Church with them again. 

The Lord has provided so many tender mercies for me to be able to attend Church over the years!  There is no way I could even begin to count them.  I have been blessed by a myriad of lessons with thought provoking spiritual discussions.  I have been touched by uplifting talks, including one very memorable one on High Council Sunday in St. Petersburg by a high councilor originally from Colorado who invited the congregation to “EXECUTE WITH EXCELLENCE!”  That advice still rings in my ears….

When flight attendants used to be able to read while we were sitting on the jump seat, I always made sure I read the Ensign magazine on Sundays.  It was a surefire way to strike up a conversation about the gospel and my beliefs. Or share with the other person some wonderful nugget of gospel thought.

If it is Fast Day, I fast.  And I look for opportunities to share why I am and what Fast Day is for.  That in turn gives opportunities for my co-workers to share with me what they have heard about the Church's HELPING HANDS program and what kinds of things THEY do to alleviate the suffering of the poor and needy.

THIRD, I knew I could be valiant in my testimony by bearing it to others--coworkers and passengers, too, for all of a sudden I had a ready audience.  It was like being a Stake Missionary all over again.  I remembered what President Uchtdorf said in General Conference years ago--and repeated last Sunday at the temple dedication--share with others what happens in our Church meetings over the weekend.  A talk, a principle from a lesson, and things like that instead of talking about the weather or the big game over the weekend.  Mentioning that my sons served missions for our church—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—is a great segue to gospel discussions and opportunities to bear witness about some gospel principle.

So, without couching my testimony in the phrases we use here over the pulpit, I have shared my testimony with words like, "I know, I feel, I believe, I am sure, I have had a personal experience with that."  And statements about God and Jesus Christ such as “I believe God goes to a lot of trouble to orchestrate things behind the scenes for us...and it is up to us to be in tune so we know when we can help other people.”  Or something like “Christ's atonement gives us comfort during our times of sorrow and sadness.  It has been so for me.”

The most amazing thing for me in working with all these people at my employment, is that so many of them DO believe in a higher power.  They have also had spiritual experiences which they have shared with me.  It is a testimony to ME, that we are all children of God and he loves and watches over all of us. I don't know why I thought Mormons had a corner on the market of God's love and attention.  But I found out we don’t.

FOURTH I knew I needed a calling in order to keep me involved with my ward and not be isolated.  I didn't want to transfer my records from my ward in Arvada to my Chicago ward, but I still wanted to serve.  I approached the Relief Society president in Arvada and asked if I could write letters to the no-contact sisters, as I had done that years before in Berlin, Germany.  She spoke with the bishop about it, and he said he thought it would be a good idea.  That began a calling I have had now in all the wards I have been in for the last 16 years.  What a wonderful way to serve! 

I was also a Visiting Teacher in my Chicago Ward, and was invited to substitute for the Gospel Doctrine teacher now and then.  Same in Arvada.  I was a team teacher there with the Gospel Doctrine teacher during those early years when I was based in Chicago and commuted home every Sunday I had a chance. 

When Louis and I moved to Johnstown, it was during that horrible period when I did not have one single scheduled Sunday off.   And it took a long time to feel like I was a part of the Johnstown Ward because I hardly ever got to attend our meetings.  

Bishop Hull called me to be a Family History specialist, but my assignment was to spend a certain amount of time each week writing my OWN family history.  And thus began the Nichols Family Newsletter which I wrote for my children for 10 years.  The idea of sitting down and writing “I Georgia Carol Huggins Nichols Bateman was born  blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…” didn't appeal to me.  Instead I told the story of my life in little chapters like my school experiences and my relationship with my seven sisters, cars I had owned, moving to Denver after I graduated from BYU, and our experiences living in Europe, plus my testimony interspersed about any number of different gospel principles directly related to what had happened to me and with my children in the Nichols Family.

Then came callings to play the organ for Sacrament meeting and serve and teach in Relief Society and attend the temple with them.  All these interactions with ward members here at home helped me remain valiant in my testimony.

I also continued playing the organ at the Denver Temple, but instead of a regular slot like before, I was on the sub list and played for others when they needed to be absent and I was available.

Finally that brings me to a very important thing which has helped keep my testimony bright and strong.  And that is the temple.

During those years in Chicago when I never had a Sunday off for real, I would go to the Chicago Temple during the week so I could have a spiritual "church experience".  Now the Fort Collins Temple is close, but the Chicago Temple was only 10 minutes up the road from my apartment.  Plus, I would do the same thing in my layover cities during the week, as I did on Sunday.  But instead of finding a chapel, I would walk, take the bus, or rent a car so I could go to the temple. 

You cannot imagine how the Lord has blessed me when I have made the effort to do that.  I have had wonderful experiences in Boston, Orlando, Washington DC, Las Vegas, Reno, Salt Lake City, Omaha, Atlanta, and other temples.   Another plus has been the times Louis came with me on layovers to San Diego, Honolulu, Calgary, and Edmonton Alberta where we attended the temple together.

The temple has been a major subject on the minds of all of us for the last several months as we have geared up for the finale--the Cultural Celebration and the Dedication of the Fort Collins temple last week. 

We have anticipated a shorter drive with less hassle of traffic, that's for sure, but these months have also given us time to reflect on what the temple means to each of us individually. 

I have always loved the account of Hannah in the Old Testament 1st Samuel chapter one.  You know the story:  Hannah was one of Elkanah's two wives.  But not only was she not able to bear a child, the first wife gave her a hard time about it.  Year after year Hannah would faithfully go with the rest of the family to the temple to worship.  Her one prayer was that the Lord would give her a son whom she would consecrate BACK to the Lord.  Eli the priest saw her and, in the course of the narrative, tells Hannah to go in peace, that the God of Israel would grant her petition. 

Shortly thereafter, Hannah does have a baby boy whom she later brings to the temple to serve as consequence of her promise.

Here in Hannah's story is one temple lesson for me:  the temple is a place where we can go when our hearts are troubled and we need solace.  Our prayers and our deep petitions which we offer there will be answered.  That has been the case many times in my lifetime.  I have always found comfort and even solutions for some of the thorny problems in my life.  Direction given to us in the temple is pure and goes straight to a humble heart which is seeking divine guidance.

Two other lessons from the temple were called to mind again last Thursday when I went to the Fort Collins Temple for the first time since the dedication. 

Adam had a great determination to keep all of God's commandments.

But Eve could see the eternal view and knew that without the Fall, the Lord's plan of happiness would be frustrated.   The priority law to support that plan was that they multiply and replenish the earth. 

Brothers and Sisters, the temple is our focus.  It is the only place where our families can realize the potential we have been given to be a forever family.  We need to be steadfast and immovable in keeping the commandments, but we must keep the commandments not just as requirements.  We need to see the commandments with the understanding that they are the means we have of achieving eternal life.

Let the temple be your beacon.  Go often to worship there because it is the receptacle of God's light and love for us here on earth.  Go when your heart is troubled.  Go when you need answers.  Go as you do your family history work.  Go, not only because it is a commandment, but because it provides a greater eternal view for our—sometimes—limited  earthly perspective.

That we do so is my prayer. 

WHO'S IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT?

Saw the following on the marquee of a scruffy little church in Longmont.  Made me stop and think if I might be calling the shots--or if I have enough faith to let the Lord do some driving in my life so I can reach a final destination which is probably far better than I could plan for myself. 

Maybe you need to think about a possible driver-exchange, too...

"If God is your co-pilot,

maybe you'd better change seats."

OVER AND OUT....!

CONTINUING QUALIFICATION 2016 in order for me to continue being a flight attendant for United Airlines is over until next fall.  I cannot express how relieved and happy I am that excruciating two-day exercise is over for this year.

I had NO idea what an ordeal I was going to have to go through when I put myself on sick list for CQ Labor Day weekend while the Nichols Family was gathering to go to the Fort Collins Temple open house.  I just figured I could call the service center after I got off sick list and reschedule the date. After all there were about five more CQ sessions in Denver for the month of September.  But no.  They told me all the slots were already filled for those times.  But... I could call at 00:10 am the following week to see if the FA who had requested time off had been awarded it and therefore would NOT be in the scheduled class for the 19th of September. 

Well, I set the alarm for midnight on the specified day and groggily called the Crew Desk.  "Oh, so sorry.  You are 24 hours too late.  Those trades when through YESTERDAY at midnight, and someone else got that open slot.  You will have to bid to attend CQ in October."

Bummed!  So, I carefully read all the directions on how to bid  as I had always automatically been assigned a time slot sometime during my reserve month every September.  Several flight attendants told me to be sure to bid for at least one day of training that was during a scheduled trip.  They would have to drop the trip, let me go to CQ and I could pick up a trip on the trade board to make up the deficient time.  (I know you probably don't have the faintest clue what I am talking about, but bear with me.)

Instead, I was assigned to go October 28th and 29th--the last two days of October's work month--AND MY DAYS OFF!  When I called to see WHY I had been assigned those days, they politely told me that they weren't going to drop a trip if Denver had a scheduled CQ session on days I wasn't scheduled with a trip.  And, oh, by the way:  This is your HAVE TO GO MONTH.  So, you have to go or be denied flying on October 30th which is the first day of November's work month.

So, I had to wait nearly eight weeks before I went to CQ to get it over with.  I did the computer work in August and filled out all the forms for September.  Obviously, I had to do THAT all over again.  The forms, I mean.  And than wait it  out.  And with every passing day, CQ loomed darker and darker on the horizon until it was so out of proportion for me I haven't slept past 2am for the past two weeks.  When I have slept, my dreams have all been frenzied stuff having to do with flying the wrong planes, not getting to briefing, etc. etc. etc.  ALL bad!

Oh, the actual training and testing days WERE awful.  And I am so glad I passed the tests once again.  But, the emotional strain was horrible.  So I will NEVER, EVER postpone going to CQ again.  I have gone at other times when I have had a kidney infection.  I have gone TWICE  when it was assigned to me the very next day and I had to stay up all night doing the computer work and then paste a huge sheet on my dash board to help me study the evacuation commands and details I would need to know to pass the tests while I was driving to the training center the next morning.  Those were bad, too, but in  retrospect the eight week wait was probably worse.

Now I am releasing my seat belt and getting out--leaving everything behind in my memory until I have to do it all over again!

Sweet dreams and peaceful sleep tonight!

A NEW VIEW...

The window cleaners came today. 

This is a present I give myself now that it's not the simple little job it used to be for me to wash the windows.  It's work! And most of the time I have done it myself since you all grew up and went your own ways.  Oh, I have had you pitch in now and then when there was a wedding or I was getting the Secrest Court house ready to sell.  I even roped Burgandy into it one time here at Sweetbriar with a bribe of money if she would get up on the ladder and do the second story windows, too. 

Truthfully, I have convinced myself that I am worth it to have a professional team come and do the WORK for me. There are some things that are priceless.  Today it was clean windows. 

I leave in the morning for several days so I won't  be able to gaze out and marvel that it doesn't even seem like there is glass in the window frames right now.  Or  come down the neighborhood path behind the house after my walk and catch the glint of light reflected in each clean window.  No, I will miss that day-after ritual that I love.

Probably by the time I get back from my trip, there will have been some kind of wind storm whipping up gritty dirt and dust.  Or maybe a sprinkling of rain along with it to make muddy finger painting like the year of the Windsor tornado just a day after I had washed the windows AND blinds all by myself.

But today.....ahhh, today after the window cleaners left I had such a beautiful perspective on my outside world again. 

It put me in mind of when I was a little girl, and each Relief Society chorus was called The Singing Mothers.  In our ward my mother played the piano and Wanda Van Zandt with her "Relief Society Chorister Arms" led the choir.  "Bless This House" was one of the songs they used to sing.  I loved it then.  I still do.  However, now it is the Tab Choir singing "Bless This House" for me on my cassette tape that I listen to on Sunday mornings when I am getting ready for Church.  (That tape is so old there is not even a copy of it on CD.  I know.  I have been looking for one for years.)

Tomorrow I will be long gone before the sun even thinks about getting up.  But later it will be coming through the east windows infusing everything familiar and favorite in the kitchen with its rays of golden light.  The glory of the sun--symbolic of the best and the brightest.  How lucky I am to live in the Rocky Mountain West where the sun is not a stranger but a welcome guest.  Now I need to remember to mention clean windows in my prayer....

Bless these windows shining bright, letting in God's heavenly light!

Bless This House

Bless this house, O Lord we pray,
Make it safe by night and day . . .

Bless these walls so firm and stout,
Keeping want and trouble out . . .

Bless the roof and chimneys tall,
Let thy peace lie overall . . .

Bless this door that it may prove,
Ever open,
To joy and love . . .

Bless these windows shining bright,
Letting in God's Heavenly light,
Bless the hearth, ablazing there,
With smoke ascending like a prayer!

Bless the people here within,
Keep them pure and free from sin . . .

Bless us all that we may be,
Fit O Lord to dwell with thee . . .

Bless us all that one day we may dwell,
O Lord! With Thee!
Words and Music by Helen Taylor
And May H. Morgan ( a.k.a. Brahe ), 1927

IN TWENTY-FIVE WORDS OR LESS....

THEN...
When I was a kid there were a lot of contests on the radio and on the back of cereal boxes which asked the participant to reply--"in twenty-five words or less"--with an advertising jingle or a testimonial to the sponsor for their product or their promotion.

I never entered any of those contests, but word smith that I am, I was always rolling some string of words around in my mind to see if I could satisfy the requirements.  You have to be pretty succinct to get your message across in so few words.  Words need to be weighed for their importance because no superfluity can be accommodated in that small of a parameter.

That's why, when I first heard of Jay Hess who had been shot down over Viet Nam on August 24, 1967, I was intrigued with the message he  was finally able to send to his family.  Jay C. Hess was a prisoner of war in Hanoi.  Neither his family nor the U.S. government had heard from him for over two years when his family received a terse letter .  His captors' requirement for him was the message had to be short, not much more than twenty five words.  Lieutenant Colonel Hess knew his message had to be one that would let his family know it was genuinely from him, and that it would also give counsel and advice to them in the briefest of missives

Following is the content of that letter dated Dec. 13, 1969:

"Above all I seek for eternal life with all of you. These are important: Temple marriage, mission, college. Press on. I had a slight flesh wound and last summer some sickness. All is well now. Set goals, write history, take pictures twice a year."

He was released  on March 14, 1973 , 5 1/2 years after he was captured .

In a later interview with the Deseret News Jay Hess shared that the prisoners could hold "school" in the afternoon where he taught others the gospel.  Reciting the Lord's prayer and saying the Pledge of Allegiance was a Sunday worship ritual for all of the men who were imprisoned with him.  He spent long hours remembering words to hymns, scriptures he had memorized, and other details of his life prior to his imprisonment.  Those are some of the things that took up those long, long days in addition to keeping himself as fit as possible to withstand the rigors of interrogation and whippings.

Throughout his retelling of this horrific time in his life, Elder Hess maintained that this BAD experience changed his life--for the better.  He then remarked that the same could be true for our bad experiences, too, if we want them to have that power to change us.

NO!  Jay C. Hess wouldn't want to do it again, but he said that's how he grew.

After reading about this or hearing about Jay C. Hess  (I think in a fireside where he was speaker is where I heard of it the first time ),  that's when I started trying to accomplish similar goals with our own Nichols family.  These seemed succinct and important.

So, we also emphasized mission and college.  But I didn't even think twice about your marriages.  I made assumptions they would be in the temple.

I set goals for you, then supported you when you set goals for yourself. 

I didn't do so well writing the family history.  The daily journal entries didn't include ALL the important things and rarely the spiritual experiences which should have been the main stuff I recorded.  Instead it was the mundane and the fluff of our lives more often than it was the meat.

Also after reading this letter, I started having pictures taken of you kids all the time.  Now  we have  a plethora in the picture box at home that is just too, too much and nobody really cares about them anymore.

"Press on" was probably the most important phrase of Jay Hess' whole message.  What good if we only get half the way there before going off the rails.  It's enduring to the end--doing our very best with our life to the end--in spite of setbacks, disabilities, death, divorce, and other tough stuff. 

NOW...

I ran across the same interview in the Deseret News a few weeks ago.  It made me wonder what kind of message I could write now to my family in 29 words.  After thinking about it quite often since then, I decided I would record pretty much the same written exhortation as Jay Hess did to his family.  In fact, his message is MY message.  Especially the "press on" part.

In the ensuing years I have learned I CAN be happy in that journey!

It may look to you that I am not happy because of current circumstances in my life.  But I am.  I am square with the Lord.  I am temple worthy.  I feel the love of friends and family.  I have been trusted with a calling to build the Kingdom of God here on the earth.  I have been blessed with good health, a compensation for a couple of really crappy things that have happened to me.  I live in America.  I am grateful for employment, though at this time I--along with about 2-3,000 other flight attendants--am  trying to play the cards right for a buyout so there is more money in my retirement account. Most important, I have a desire to live a celestial life.  Yes...  I am happy!  I feel joy! 

"Saints can be happy under every circumstance. We can feel joy even while having a bad day, a bad week, or even a bad year!  ...the joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives."  Russell M. Nelson

May I gently--and with deep love for each of you-- remind you that we are in the business of building an eternal Nichols Family.  Won't you please join with me in making that happen...

No empty chairs!