JOURNEY TO JOY (23): The Learning Curve

I've been taking some online classes recently, and while I'm enjoying myself and feeling challenged, I have to admit that my brain is a bit rusty.  In my recently completed 12 assignment term, I got a 90%-100% on all assignments except for ONE: and I couldn't seem to pass it -- even with open book assistance.  Let's admit it folks, this was my best subject during my formal education.  I redid the assignment several times, and based on the response of the 'instructor' - it got worse each time I tried to fix it.  Either the instructor was an imposter, or I'm nuts.  I passed the course with a 90%, but that one stray assignment is still frustrating me.

A few weeks ago I sat in the Marriott Center watching my middle son graduate from BYU along with 6,000 other students.  One brother and sister walked across the stage with their mother.  It was really touching.

After we got home, we were having dinner with my daughter and her family.  My grand-daughter, Amber, who is finishing up first grade, was showing me how she can multiply in her head now - that is really impressive!

All this got me to thinking about how lucky we are to live in a time where information and knowledge are so available to us!  I don't even need to go to the library to look for a book.  I can power up my e-reader and download it from my bed in the middle of the night if I want to, and I can continue my education online. 

Five-year-old Zack and I were playing Angry Birds on my tablet last night.  I was struggling, and he was trying to explain to me how to make the bombs blow up, make a red bird turn into three birds, and make the yellow bird speed up -- all in an effort to kill the pigs.  He said, "Grandma, just do it the way that I'm showing you.  You can learn how if you watch me."  Hmmm.

Who'd have thunk it?

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS (19): All That I Have

I have been enjoying a quiet house this morning, listening to the messages of General Conference.  I've been a bit under the weather, so my goal this weekend was to rest up and recuperate.  This can be a difficult thing to do when the pressures of life are so powerful that I don't seem to have the ability to let the stress go and find some peace. 

I always look forward to the presentations during the intermission between the sessions.  Today, there was a story about a woman who was unable to move past the grief of losing her baby boy to illness.  Natalie knew that she had to find the strength to move on in order to be a good mother to her three little boys who still needed her, and so she went on a geneology search to see how her ancestors dealt with hardship, hoping to find some strength from their experiences.  Natalie learned that her grandmother had gone through the same heartbreak several times, and it had broken her.  She then learned of another ancestor who had also led a difficult life, but had found joy in her life despite her circumstances.  This woman's motto had been "Look at all that I have!"

This reminds me of my friend Marie, who has experienced much difficulty during her lifetime.  I would expect her to be bitter and unhappy, but she isn't!  Marie looks to the gospel to heal her soul at every turn, and is engaged in acts of service always.  She is such an inspiration to me.

I hope that I can remember to always be thankful for what I have, and not look backward toward what is lost, wishes left unfulfilled, or troubles best left alone.  Today, I feel blessed to have friends like Marie who can show me the way.

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS (8): Inquiring Minds

"What does 'realize' mean," one of the grandkids asked me this past week when I used it in a sentence.  "It means ... well, it means ... um, to figure something out."  "Oh, why didn't you say that?"

I remember when every sentence contained something new to think about, and television and movies opened up new worlds full of exciting of ideas.  Then I got old-ish, and it seems like there just isn't that much new and shiny around.  But that's not really true. 

In addition to conventional education, over the years I have taken or taught workshops and courses in art, piano, textiles, knitting, spinning, leadership, communication, diversity, operational management, scrapbooking, child-rearing, quilting, cooking, dog training, and a potpourri of other subjects.  I'm fairly sure my appetite for learning comes from my Mom, who was always teaching herself how to do the next great thing.  (She once taught herself how to make Victorian doll house furniture from dog food cans.)  Right now she's writing a cooking course for children.  She heard about e-publishing, and is all worked up about that.

If my brain is like a computer, then my hard drive is going to eventually run out of space or memory.  Unless someone invents a flash drive that plugs into my ear or a way to connect an external hard drive so that I can download some of that data, I wonder if I should begin rationing what I fill my mind with? 

Not a chance.  I'll just keep learning and trying new things until an upgrade comes out.

COUNT MY BLESSINGS (5): Saturday Treats

My brothers, sisters and I were pigs and would eat our way through every morsel of food in the house if Mom didn't ration them out.  I remember really wanting a second glass of milk, and she'd say, "Go have a glass of water."  I wanted more than one cookie, and she'd say, "Go have some celery."  Potato chips?  Forget it.  Mike was raised in a thrifty household too, and tried to ration the milk.  No one was going to ration food at my house!

When Mike and I got married, we couldn't afford to go out much.  Our grocery budget was a whopping $25 per week and so we got into the routine of having Saturday date nights at home which always included a special treat.  Once the kids came along, Saturday treats became Sunday treats, and I was religious about having those goodies on Sunday evening. 

I had no idea that other people were treat freaks until one scorching hot Sunday when I forgot to go to the grocery store the night before.  We observe the Sabbath and don't shop on Sunday, so the kids and I were fresh out of luck when I realized during church that the cupboards were bare of anything treat-worthy.  I mentioned this to my friend Sara Kirk, who was appauled.  "What are your kids going to eat today?  How can you not have treats in the house?" 

Shortly after I got home and scraped my sweaty clothes off of my eight-month pregnant body, there was a knock on the front door.  Sara stood on the front porch, grocery bag in hand.  "You can't make your kids go through Sunday with no treats," she said as she shoved the bag into my arms.  A cold six pack of rootbeer, a bag of red licorice, and a huge bag of Doritos would never taste as good as they did that day. 

When the kids started driving and dating, Sunday treats became Saturday treats again to bribe them to come home on time.  Nothing gets a teenager in by curfew like a pan of hot Rhodes cinnamon rolls. 

Saturdays nights often arrive now with no one to share them with.  But a pan of warm Rhodes rolls wafting the heady scent of cinnamon through the house warms my heart with memories.

COUNT MY BLESSINGS (4): All Present and Accounted For

Do you remember when we would sit in school and the teacher would take role?  “Johnny?”  “Here!”  “Sally?”  “Here!”  Do they still do that? 

I used to have a recurring dream when I was raising my kids that I was sitting at a noisy dinner table with my family, and someone’s chair was empty.  I would wake up in tears with my heart racing.  Who was missing??  Where were they?!  It was horrible.  The nightmares continued until the kids grew up and started taking on lives of their own.  I think I stopped having them when Miles was about 16.  He’s my youngest, and had the privilege of being an only child for a short period of time. 

Then Miles did the unthinkable:  He enlisted in the Army and took off for boot camp right after graduation from high school.  What?  Who raised that child?  What was he thinking?  I was raised in the military and enjoy my freedom and liberty as much as the next American, but I didn’t want him to live in that environment.  Okay, I just didn’t want people shooting at him, or being mean to him, or even yelling at him.  Then he decided he would also go airborne.  That means that he jumps out of airplanes while people shoot at him.  Did I mention that there are bombs involved?

Miles’ first deployment to Iraq was by far the hardest experience I have ever endured.  It was worse than kidney stones, or my three week labor and delivery (yes, three weeks), and worse than a gall bladder attack.  I know, it was hard for him too, but he assured me that it was probably harder on me because he was busy ‘doing stuff.’  I was busy not sleeping, and 'worrying about stuff.’  I didn’t watch a single news broadcast, held my breath when I saw any military vehicles - praying they weren’t headed for my driveway, and got used to receiving an occasional 1:00 a.m. phone call that was always Miles. 

And then he came home.  Then he went to Afghanistan.  And came home.  And went again, came home, and went again. 

Miles and I had dinner at my nephew's house the last time I saw him before his final deployment.  It was physically painful to get into my car and drive away, because I kept seeing that empty chair at the table.  For some reason, this time just felt different.  I hugged him and tried not to cry, but I was not as brave as he was.  Miles said, “Mom, don’t worry.  I always come home.” 

Not all of our soldiers come home.  Miles did.

COUNT MY BLESSINGS (3): Joy in the Morning

My spiritual beliefs are often what get me through the day, especially those really hard ones.  You know, the days that feel like armageddon has decided to start in my front yard.  I have those sometimes.  I'm not a patient person.  I want what I want now, especially the good stuff.  I want peace, happiness, and love at home.  I want to win the lottery.  I want world peace -- well, okay, that's bit far fetched, I'll take getting all of our troops home safe and sound.  I want struggles to have end in sight, and then actually end. 

I've always believed that we are given trials and struggles to learn patience, to learn to see the Lord's hand in our lives, and to help us to grow strong.  I'm fairly confident that I would be more than happy to grow without the trials.  I can learn to be patient without them.

One scripture that I am trying to internalized is:  "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."  (Psalms 30:5.)  I think I need to make another sign to put up in my house!  Job lost everything while he waited for relief from the Lord: He lost his home and worldly possessions; he lost his family; his health -- even his mental health.  Job's response to these tragedies was:  "...For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though ... worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God...  Though he slay me, yet I will trust in Him..."  Way to be patient Job!  I hope that I don't have to have worms destroy my body before I'm humble enough to feel 'joy in morning.'

We are not guaranteed that our lives will be easy, that we will not face heartache.  We are not promised that we will not be faced with tragedy or tempted by sin, or that our families will remain untouched.  But...  We are promised that if we endure our struggles well, whether in this life or the next, our trials will seem like that one night of weeping, and we will have joy in the morning. 


Yesterday, I went to bed exhausted.  Life has pooped me out.  When I woke up this morning, I was greeted with a beautiful, rare Oregon Spring Sunrise.  It was absolutely gorgeous outside, and it felt like a great big blessing handed to me on a silver platter, with my name engraved right in the middle!  I was definitely feeling joy this morning, were you?

COUNT MY BLESSINGS (2): Ten A Day

I have five amazing grandchildren who pack so much joy into my life that it pretty much bursts at the seams when they are around.  Those haters out there who think we talk about them too much are simply uneducated or jealous.  You know who you are.  You mock us behind our backs, roll your eyes when we tell you the next funny story, and pretend they are gorgeous when we show you their pictures.  Well, back off! These tiny creatures are the stuff that joy is made of.

Last week my 5 year old grandson, Zackary spent the night at our house.  We snuggled Friday night, munched on Girl Scout Thin Mints and watched Home Alone together - what a great night, especially when Kevin drops Buzz's tarantula onto the burglar's face.  All through the next day he said, "Grandma, I love you," to which I replied, "I love you too Zacky."  When he was getting ready to go home, he ran back to me, hugged my legs, and said, "Grandma, I really love you."  I said, "Zack, that's ten I love you's in one day!  I'm the luckiest Grandma ever!" 

He thought about that for a minute and said, "I meant to say it eleven times."

COUNT MY BLESSINGS (1): Butterscotch Lifesavers

I have the most amazing father. I came across a picture of him recently in his uniform when I was about 8. I remember him looking like that as if it were yesterday!

I still see him that way when I look at him now, because he has an overwhelming impact on my life every day. I'm so thankful that I am blessed with him in my life. My Dad just gets me.  He never corrects me, and I'm pretty sure he agrees with everything I say.  Even if he doesn't, he acts like he does. 

When I was about eight years old, I was running around barefoot in our family room and a sewing needle went into my big toe and broke off inside.  It eventually started to cause a nasty infection, and it was horribly painful.  My traumas always came to a head in the middle of the night.  Like when my little brother, Joey, dropped a coffee can full of pollywogs on my other big toe, and I had to go to the emergency room to have the toenail sliced open to relieve the pressure.  I still remember thrashing around in my bed in pain, and hearing Mom say, 'Gary, you're going to have to take her to the hospital.'  No!  Because we were military, Dad donned his officer's uniform and took me into the emergency room at the hospital in Oakland.  An x-ray showed the nasty thing sitting inside my toe, growing gange green and who knows what else. 

I was admitted to the hospital children's ward full of crying, scared kids who were all having surgery of some sort.  All of us were laying in these oversize cribs - not only scared, but completely humiliated.  They had all these stupid rules to make the experience as painful as possible: no visitors after 7:30 p.m., no snacks, nothing but water to drink, nothing but broth for dinner.  What was this?  Prison?

Anyway, on the night before my surgery, I was laying there crying and picking the paint off of my crib (probably containing lead) when I looked up to see a handsome officer in his navy blue dress uniform walk in the door.  I'm pretty sure that every mother sitting in that room turned and watched him walk in - he was just that impressive.  He sat down next to me and talked to me until I calmed down.  He said prayers with me before he left, and I felt better. 

As I turned on my side to go to sleep that night, my hand felt something strange under my pillow.  I knew instinctively that I'd better not let the nurses see what it was or they'd take it, and had to wait until the lights were out for the night and the rest of the screamers had gone to sleep so that I had some privacy.

My heart pounding in anticipation, I slipped a roll of butter rum lifesavers out from under my pillow - Dad's favorite!  Wow, he loved me so much!  Afraid that the nurses would confiscate my stash, I ate the entire roll, and hid the paper debris inside the pillowcase.

Next morning was surgery day.  When I woke up from anesthesia, I barfed my guts out into a plastic barf pan.  It smelled like butterscotch.

When Amid Life's Billows - Count Your Blessings

My Mom and Dad have always taught me that happiness is fleeting - but joy is eternal.  As a child, I thought that happiness and joy were one and the same, because my perspective was so short sighted.  Next year seemed like a lifetime away, and last year - well, I had no real use for last year.

I remember the day I got my first suede moccasins from Tijuana - I thought they were very cool.  That was a happy day.  They were dark brown, and very, very soft.  It was the 60's, and fringe was in, and they looked awesome with my olive green fringed purse.  The first time I left them sitting on the floor in the living room, our dog Boo Boo chewed one up, and my moment of happiness ended up in the backyard in the cool grass.

Fast forward to my wedding day.  My husband, Mike, and I were married and sealed in the LDS temple in Salt Lake.  It was a happy and overwhelming day, with friends and family there to share in our moment.  Following the ceremony, we stood facing a large mirror on the wall.  It faced an identical mirror on the wall behind us, and hanging over our heads was a shimmering crystal chandelier.  Because of the way that the mirrors and chandelier were placed, we could see iterations of ourselves sparkling forward into what seemed like forever.  The thought that we were at the beginning of something that could last forever was amazing and awe inspiring.  (Over the years, I'm sure that we have both occasionally thought:  What were we thinking??!)

Flash ahead to June 16, 1981 - and Dr. Hicks places a red, fat, screaming baby girl into my arms.  Oh!  I see what you mean, Mom!  All of that fun, laughter, and happiness up until that moment suddenly snapped into it's true perspective, and I knew true, absolute and irrevocable joy for the very first time.  No amount of vomit, poop or sleep deprivation could dampen my joyful heart.

Over the years I have felt that glimpse of joy often, and know that is my goal - to get through the struggles, heartache, and downright garbage and surround myself with people and things that take me closer to a joyful life. 

That's what this blog is for: A place to record and share moments of joy.  Want to come along for the journey? 

I read on another blog today that their family motto is "Happy Not Crappy."  I love that!  I want a sign that says that in my house.  My mother thinks crap is a bad word - I think it's awesome.  I've decided to record a year of blessings - and hope I can dedicate myself enough to post a new blessing every single day for the next 365 days.

The theme of this blog comes from the words to this song:

When upon life's billows you are tempest tossed.
When you are discouraged thinking all is lost.
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.

Are you ever burdened with a load of care,
Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear.
Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly,
And you will be singing as the days go by.

So amid the conflict whether great or small,
Do not be discouraged, God is over all.
Count your many blessings, Angels will attend -
Help and comfort give you to your journey's end.