A Matter of Perspective

A few years ago - okay, 20 years ago, I had just started a new job.  Same employer, different job.  I was taking complaints for the bank president.  Just me, no one else.  Next to me sat a lovely young woman who was working on a program for special handling of our more affluent clients' customer service needs.  She was the only one in that function, so they put us together in an out of the way cubby.  It worked great for us, we were like minded and got along well.There were bad things going on in the world.  The first Gulf war, Jeffrey Dahmer arrested, tried and convicted, riots in Washington DC, Rodney King, riots in Los Angeles, Mike Tyson arrested, tried and convicted, the Tailhook scandal, the first man to "go postal", one of the first high school shootings, Ruby Ridge and Waco.

If you are too young to know what all of those are, you don't want to know, so don't worry about it.  My friend and I looked at the world around us and thought that surely we were going to hell in a handbasket.
Then one day she said, "I don't really want to go through the end of the world, but I just wish He would come now.  It can't get any worse than this!"  I don't remember which news story prompted her to wish for the Second Coming of Christ.  It may have been one of the above, or another - there were plenty.

Since then, the world has gotten worse.  I won't give you another list, but it's worse.  Just as it's worse than when I was growing up and when my kids were growing up.

On the other hand (some day I will run out of hands), it's better.  There are wonderful people striving to do what's right against terrible odds.  The gospel is going forward, more people are learning of Christ and striving to be like him.  We are surrounded daily by angels, as Elisha was.

2 Kings:

15 And when the servant of the man of God was risen early, and gone forth, behold, an host compassed the city both with horses and chariots. And his servant said unto him, Alas, my master! how shall we do?

16 And he answered, Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them.

17 And Elisha prayed, and said, Lord, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha.

Be of good cheer; the Lord is on your side!

So, Here's A Question

Back to resolutions.  That's where we were, right?
I suppose I'm the only one in the world who resolves each year to read/study the scriptures on a more regular basis and/or make it more study than read.  Right?  I'm not?  Go figure!

Of course, I also (always) resolve to make my prayers more regular, sincere and spiritual.  And to wait/listen for response.  And to make them more grateful than petitionary.  Sound familiar?  Maybe I'm not the only one.

So, let me tell you a story.  Several years ago I went to a business dinner, company wide.  Entertainment, awards, all of that essential business stuff that requires you to be away from home outside of business hours.  Large tables seating ten.  I was sitting with 9 women with whom I worked on a regular basis.  Three of us were LDS.  Dinner was being served and one of the other lovely ladies asked if we could bless the food.  Well, what are you going to do, say no?  So I agreed that it would be okay.  So she and several others reached out so that we could all hold hands while we prayed.  That isn't the way we pray at the table at home, but I'd already said yes.  So I joined hands and then dropped mine to below tabletop height.  I didn't want to be seen praying to be seen.  And, I was a little uncomfortable about the whole thing.

Since then, I've dined out frequently.  In fact, I love eating out, so frequently means at least once a week.  Just family, LDS friends, non-LDS friends, missionaries and just the two of us.  I occasionally bless the food, but not always and never out loud.  Some friends always want to pray over the food, aloud.  Others never mention the idea.  So, I am of two minds.  I am grateful for the food, for the hands that prepared it, and I want it to nourish and strengthen my body, and I'm also grateful for all the other blessings that I have been given.  (Does it sound like my blessing on the food is a little bit rote?  Yeah, to me too.)  But I am uncomfortable making a display of my prayers.

Here's another story.  Many years ago, when we were still in the Washington DC temple district I went to breakfast in the cafeteria.  We were eating breakfast first thing so that we could have the energy for several hours work.  I went through the cafeteria line, eggs, juice, bacon, biscuits...  my mouth is watering.  I got to the cashier and happened to be the first person in line.  The cashier asked me to bless the food.  What?  Yes, please bless the food for this meal.  Turns out that at the beginning of each meal time, they asked the first person in line to bless the food for that particular meal.  Who knew, unless you were that person.  I did, of course, you can't turn down a request like that.  And then, I watched as others came through later, paid for their meal, sat down, folded their arms, bowed their heads and prayed over their food.  I knew something they didn't know.  :)

So, do you or don't you pray in restaurants?  Do you pray silently or out loud?
Is there a right or wrong answer?

Be It Resolved

I make New Year's resolutions every year, but I don't write them down or announce them to the public. I also don't keep them. Hmmm.... I wonder if there is a correlation?  It's a possibility.

So every year, I make the same resolutions (or set the same goals).  For instance, last year I set a specific weight loss goal, a specific number of pounds to lose.  I didn't make it.  I did lose, but only about 15% of my original figure.  Now common sense and my daughter, tell me to set a goal of 5% of my body weight.  Medical professionals say that losing 5 to 10 percent of your body weight (presuming that you are overweight) gives you tremendous health benefits.  Frankly, I believe them.  I am making that my goal, to lose 5% of my total weight.  But, I'm not going to take a year to do it.
So, there you have it.  It's in public and it's specific.  I will even give periodic updates.  So let it be written, so let it be done.

On Trial

Have I mentioned, and you know that I have, that I don't understand why my life is so good? I mean, aside from being old and fat and creaky, my life is really good. Sure, I'd like to be rich and semi-famous, thinner, more gorgeous and with a mind like a steel trap, as I was when this picture was taken. Oh, yes, and with the best selling novel in the bag.

Other than those superficial things, there is very little I would change about my life. Ronald darling and I are getting older, but then, so are you! But we had a head start, so we are getting closer, in 30 or 40 years, to the end. But, I look at other people's trials that are so difficult, and wonder why my life does not seem to be a trial. I have friends with grave health problems, without work for months, dealing with deaths in their families, with wayward children and sin.

And I don't have major issues. I'm not going to confess my sins; I have them, but I'm working on them. We could be healthier, but we are working on that as well. So why don't we have major trials? Not that I want them, mind you. I just keep asking, "Why not me?"

Maybe the Lord won't give me huge problems because he knows I couldn't handle them - or because I could so I don't need them. Maybe I'm so good that I deserve a care-free life. Yeah, right! Or maybe I have trials, but I'm coping with them so well that I don't realize that they are there. Possibly the Lord is helping me carry them, so that I don't feel the weight.

So what is the purpose of trials? To strengthen us, to teach us and to encourage us to lean on the Lord. I found this poem that gives some insight. It's written from the perspective of a man, in the 19th century, trying to decide why he had been born black, when his race was a trial. It is from a play called I Am Jane, written about early members of the LDS church.

"I feel, Sister Jane, that ours is:

Not a curse but a gift t'us,

The best path we could seek

A place where God can lift us

We kneel; our knees is weak

And when one of us is kneelin',

We understand his fears.

We know what all us is feelin'

We cry each other's tears.

That's just what Jesus done

For all us human folk.

He agreed to come get born

To feel ev'ry pain and poke.

So's he could understand us,

What it is to be a slave.

So's he could get beneath us

And push us outa the grave

Would you rather be the massa

or the Roman with his whip?

Would you rather nail the Savior-

Put vinegar to his lip?

Or learn the lessons of sufferin'-

How we nothin' without grace.

Jesus, he give us a callin'

He gifted us our race."

The Lord has gifted us all our trials, even the ones that we don't recognize as trials. And they are blessings, even though they may not feel like blessings.

Who Leads the Lambs Away?

Isn't it strange, I've had this poem since last May. It was used in a Relief Society lesson by my visiting teacher. I was so struck by it, that I asked her to get me a copy. It was from a talk given by Elder Banks in 1999. It's interesting that you can hear something over and over, and then at some point you get that Ah-Ha moment. So this scripture, Matthew 18:1-13 inspired this poem by C C Miller.

Twas a sheep not a lamb that strayed away
In the parable Jesus told,
A grown-up sheep that strayed away
From the ninety and nine in the fold.

And why for the sheep should we seek
And earnestly hope and pray?
Because there is danger when sheep go wrong;
They lead the lambs astray.

Lambs will follow the sheep, you know,
Wherever the sheep may stray.
When sheep go wrong, it won't take long
Til the lambs are as wrong as they.

And so with the sheep we earnestly plead
For the sake of the lambs today,
For when sheep are lost, what a terrible cost
The lambs will have to pay.

Facebook Friendliness

I have 285 Facebook friends. Really!

I have friends that are family, friends in my ward (congregation), former missionaries who served in my ward, friends in my former wards, friends who serve with me at the temple, friends from high school, friends from work, friends from my former job, people who I barely remember, and a few that are in the"how did they get on my list" category.

I use Facebook primarily for church work and family contacts, but for some reason, I read all of the wall posts that pop up every day. It's interesting, fun and sometimes sad.

Like many of you (however many of you there are who read my blog and do Facebook), I have heard about engagements, breakups, marriages and constant relationship upheavals. I've read about births, deaths, pregnancies, miscarriages, illness, surgery and accidents.

I am amazed at the personal details people are willing to put out for all the world to see. They fight with their significant other, and all the details are there. They go out and get snockered, and all the details go right on the wall. Pictures of new babies, new cars, new pets, new toys and surgical scars.

I share some of those things as well, but only in private messages, not posted on the wall for 285 friends, Romans, countrymen and strangers to see.

And then, a couple of weeks ago, I saw this wall post.

"When ur elbows have fat rolls u might have a problem."

Now that's a true statement. I understand, even though my elbows have fat rolls. But did this person really intend to hurt my feelings? She didn't, by the way. Hurt my feelings, I mean. But she has 185 friends, surely some of them are not svelt. One shot back a little - I'm heavy but I'm going to LOL response, and one of her friends 'liked' her post.

Face book feels anonymous, even though your name is right there for all the world to see. The world is a very out there, reality show kind of place. Perhaps if we want privacy, we should keep things a little more private. Just sayin'.

Getting In Shape

Difficult as it is for me to confess, I am not in tip top physical condition. I might be a tad bit over my ideal weight, and just slightly sedentary. Slightly.

In the past, I have joined the YMCA, purchased workout tapes, owned 2 treadmills and 2 stationary bikes which became wonderful clothes racks, bought "guaranteed to work" exercise devices. The most recent purchase was another stationary bike, this time from a garage sale. Ronald darling didn't think we should get it, seeing as how we don't really need another clothes rack. But he agreed, wrestled it into the car, drove it home and set it up in the living room. Not an attractive decorative accessory, but since it's in front of the TV, I do get on it occasionally.

Recently, I've been reading the blog of a young man who went from 358 to 220 pounds. This page of his blog shows him about half way through. He did it by sensible eating and running. Of course, reading the blog doesn't burn as many calories as you might think. So I'm still trying to decide the best method for me to get into better shape. Already working on the sensible eating thing, but I'm looking for an activity that might help. Your suggestions will be appreciated.

This video, however, has convinced me that running may not be my best option!

He Just Gets Better!

You know I've got this guy, right? Ronald darling? Yeah, him!

He has some good qualities, a few anyway. He makes the best brownies in the world. He cuts roses for me from the garden. He does most of the cooking and cleaning and laundry. Of course, he's retired and has a little more time for it. But he doesn't particularly like the way I dress, and he was brave enough to say it.

Actually, he's been saying it for a couple of years. Something about everything I wear looks like every other thing I wear. And he's right. Saturday he just insisted that I go shopping and replace my wardrobe. I didn't want to do it, I hate shopping! I don't like the way I look and I don't like looking at myself in the mirror. Most days anyway. But I agreed; I was going shopping, but for some reason, he didn't trust me. He expected that I would come back with more stuff that looked exactly the same. Probably right. He went with me. We shopped for four hours. Four hours, for crying out loud!
So this is what we got. Two dresses, three skirts, five blouses and two jackets. And two pair of shoes. Now I have to go through what I have, figure out what needs to get pitched and then shop for the rest of the wardrobe. Who knows, maybe I will learn to like shopping. And spending money!

So, when you see me and I'm wearing something different, remember, it's Ronald darling's fault! And if I look good, try not to sound surprised when you say it. LOL

This May Have Come Up a Time or Two Before

I love to sing. Really? Yeah, really! You may have heard it a time or twelve before; I love it.

A few weeks ago, six sisters sang in Sacrament meeting. I loved hearing them, loved the feeling that they brought to the meeting. It was sweet and lovely. I'd been watching them practice for weeks. They wanted to make sure that the notes were right, the harmony was right, the words were right and that the spirit was right. Also, they wanted to make sure that they didn't make any major mistakes or look foolish in front of friends and family. Trust me, I know. I've been there and done that!

As you know, I've been around for decades. The first time I ever remember going into a church, was when I was nine; a friend invited me to go to church with her. Who knew Presbyterians did missionary work? My folks weren't thrilled with the idea, but couldn't think of a good reason to refuse, so I went. I don't remember anything about the church service, but my friend sang in the children's choir and asked if I'd like to sing, too. Again, see my parents response two sentences ago.

And then , one Sunday, the children's choir sang. I thought my parents would love to come, but they did not want to come hear me sing for the first time in public. Not because they didn't love me - they did! They just did not want to go to church! They did come to hear me, but reminded me before and after that they would not be coming whenever I sang. Just so I'd know!


And that's the way it's been; I've been singing in choirs, school and church, ever since. Holy cow, that's more than 50 years! And for many of those years, I also sang with a group of five other sisters in the church. We'd sing at Christmas, in regular Sacrament meetings and at funerals. If a special musical number was needed, we did it. We were the go to gals. The sisters who sang a few weeks ago reminded me so much of that earlier crew.

So Jane, Mabel, Rosemarie, Laurie and Mary - sure miss you!

Up the Down Elevator

Really? Two months since I last blogged? Blogged, is that even a word? How long can I keep asking questions? An interesting experience on the elevator the other day. The building I work in has the most modern tech-y elevator in town. There is no Up or Down button to operate the thing. You approach the elevator and push the floor number that you want to reach. This might be a little tricky if the building had 140 floors, but it only has 11, counting the lower level and the lower lower level. So you push the button to make the elevator take you to your floor. The panel tells you which elevator is going to take you there, A, B, C or D. The door opens, you get on and you don't push anything else. The elevator is going to your floor. Of course, if you got on the wrong one, just following the crowd, it is going to take you to the floor it planned all along. There is nothing you can do to change it. So, when you are starting out the day, riding with people you don't know, you have a choice. Complete silence, or meaningless chit chat. I usually go for the latter. You know, the weather, enthusiasm for the new week, the yearning for the weekend. Strictly bland stuff. And then there is the bon mot to those you leave behind as you step off the elevator. I try to rotate the following: have a nice day, have a great day, have fun. But the other day, I wanted something different. Optional phrases were whipping through my mind and we were approaching my floor. What to say, what to say? And then it came to me! "Once more unto the breach!" I was so proud, I knew that it was worthy of the literary brilliance award. I mean, who quotes Shakespeare at 8:00 in the morning? But, no award. I may have literary brilliance, but the woman who followed me onto the floor had me beat. She said with a huge smile, "It's show time!" Drat! For that moment, it was more brilliant! My intellectual snobbery was crushed again! Next time, I'm going to say, "Have fun storming the castle."