Throwing a Pity Party

Well, last night I had a pity party. I know that it doesn't help to feel sorry for myself, but sometimes it feels like it is just too much to handle.  As I am going through this pain, I can't help but compare myself to so many people who have seemed to sail through chemotherapy. At times like these, I feel so weak.  My daughter reminded me that I am comparing my private self to other people's public self. I don't want to be a hypocrite and have everyone think I am so upbeat and positive all the time.  Reality is that this has been the hardest thing I have ever been through! This last week I've had bowel problems again and combining it with the other side effects was enough to put me over the edge. Last night I cried myself to sleep. Thank goodness for the power of prayer! Thanks to the Lord, he always is there to hear a weak daughter's prayer and he comforts, strengthens and gives her courage to face another day!

My husband is so amazing!  I feel sorry for him because he sees me at my worst and he still loves me.  I told him how much I appreciated him putting up with me and he lovingly said, "I'm not going anywhere!" I'm so grateful for my temple marriage and the covenants I've made with him and the Lord.

"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                                     The Extra Mile!

I couldn't help but notice the man standing on the side of the road.  He was alone and was walking in the same direction that I was driving.  I wondered why he would be walking out in the middle of no where.  Then, instantly, I realized that the car I had seen just moments before must have been his.

It had been a nice vacation.  I was preparing to return to my home in Colorado after visiting my sisters in Southern Idaho.  I grew up in Oakley, near Burley and had thoroughly enjoyed coming back and visiting with all of my dear friends and family.  The familiar aroma of the farming communities had also been a welcome reminder of days gone by. 

On the way out of town I stopped by to talk to my nieces ex-husband who owned a car repair garage.  As we were visiting, I noticed a French Peugeot Diesel of the same model and make as the one I was driving.  I commented that it was very unusual to see that type of car in a non-metropolitan area, especially the fact that there were not very many in the United States period.  He told me that the owner was parting-it-out and had left it there during the process.  I said my goodbys and departed for Colorado, a long days drive ahead. 

I had been on the way for a short time when I noticed a car parked on the side of the road.  Then a short distance ahead I saw a man standing, then realized that he must have been the driver.  The car ahead of me pulled over and stopped, then drove on.  I thought this man's problems were in the process of being solved, so I drove on past him.  The car behind me also pulled over, stopped and then continued on. 

             Only a few minutes had gone by and for some reason I felt impressed to turn around and go back and help this man.  I could think of no rational reason to do so, other than the fact that the man must not have received the help he needed.  The feeling became more intense as I approached an upcoming exit ramp with an overpass.  I took the exit, crossed over and then re-entered the freeway, heading back towards the man as prompted.

As I drove past on the opposite side of the highway, I saw the man still standing where he had been a few minutes before.  I continued on until I found a place to cross over, and then headed back the opposite direction to where he had been standing.  As I approached the location, neither the man nor the car were anywhere in sight.

Rhetorically I asked, "Was that trip necessary?" and then chided myself for wasting the extra miles.  I proceeded on my journey, reflecting on the strong prompting I had felt to return to where the man had been, only to find him gone.  It didn't make any sense to me.

As I drove on, I gradually put the incident out of my mind, not quite knowing what to make of the experience.  Approximately fifty miles further down the freeway, a red light suddenly appeared on my dashboard, indicating low oil pressure.  This happened just as I was approaching an exit for a private ranch house.  I exited the freeway and coasted up the lane towards the ranch, which was not far from the road. 

           I coasted to a stop, got out, opened the hood and found a ruptured engine oil pressure line which had drained most of the engine oil.  As I walked toward the house, I saw a man feeding cattle.  I approached him, told him of my problem and asked if he had a phone I could use.  He said that he did and if I could wait a few minutes until he finished feeding the animals, he would take me to the house where I could use the phone.  I didn't have any place I could go, so I was happy to wait.

During our conversation, I learned that he was a member of the Bishopric in the nearby town.  When he was finished feeding the cattle, we went to his house.  He introduced me to his wife and showed me where the phone was.  I made a call to my sister in Burley and explained to her what happened to the oil line in my car.  I had remembered the Peugeot at Mike's garage.  I asked her if she would inquire about buying the oil line from Mike and send it and some oil to me.  She said she would take care of getting the things I needed and have them delivered to me.  I thanked her and hung up the phone.

I was invited to have dinner with this family.  I gratefully accepted their invitation and shared in their delicious meal and company while waiting for the parts to arrive.  I told them that I was very lucky that the failure occurred where it did. 

Sometime later my nephew arrived with the part and the oil.  We replaced the broken part and I put the oil in.  I thanked my nephew for his trouble, thanked the family for their hospitality and bade them all farewell.  I resumed my journey toward Colorado several hours behind schedule, but thankful for the blessings my family and that gracious couple had provided me.

As I drove through a desolate area, 12 to 15 miles from the ranch, the full impact of that experience suddenly dawned on me.  Had I not heeded the promptings of the Spirit and gone those extra 12-15 miles, I would have been in the middle of that desolate area when the oil line broke.  I would have been totally without help and my problems would have been greatly magnified!  That trip was REALLY necessary!

           "When you begin to make service to meet other's needs your constant practice," Harold B. Lee said, "you are beginning a program that will make you successful in your chosen field and your own needs will begin automatically to take care of themselves."

Because I followed a prompting, which I thought was for the benefit of the man on the side of the road, I received a great blessing for me instead...I have often wondered who that man was. 

Since then I have contemplated the far reaching effect that service plays in the life of the giver.  When we lose ourselves in unselfish service to others, we forget for a moment our own wants and needs and put others first.  Even though I didn't get to help this man, the righteous intent of my heart was noted and knowing I would be in need, the Lord took care of my problems.  As a child I often heard the phrase, "Go the extra mile."  Not until now, have I realized the impact it can have.

--Robert C. Nelson, retired Fighter Pilot (Out of Small Things)

A Heartfelt Thanks!!

I just wanted to let everyone know how much I have appreciated all of my birthday greetings!  It's times like this that I realize that I am soooooo blessed because of who I am surrounded by.  Thank you all for your strength, your encouragement and your examples.  Bytheway, I LOVED reading what my sweet children wrote about me!  Thank you kids for your kind words, it makes being your Mom totally worth it.  :-)  

I just finished my 11th time of chemo and I have 7 more to go.  I'm grateful to be this far, yet I have noticed that each week is getting harder and harder to feel better.  I heard that chemo is acummulative and that the closer to the end, the more tired I will be.  No one told me that until I mentioned that I was more tired this time then I had previously been.  That's not really fun to hear, yet it helps me feel better about how I am feeling.  I am having a lot of neuropothy (numbness and tingling) in both my feet.  Still trying to have a positive attitude through this all!  Some days are easier than others.

Happy Happy Birthday!

Today is our Mom’s birthday, and we couldn’t let the day pass without a little shout out for the Birthday Girl! As I’m sure anyone who reads this blog knows, our mom is an incredible lady, and we all feel so lucky to have been the people chosen to have her as our mother.

Mom, you are such a great example to me in so many ways. I often find myself trying to think how you might handle a situation, so I can know what I should do. You have taught me so much about constantly serving others, always trying to learn and become better, how to be a true follower of Christ, and how to laugh at myself and have FUN in life! Even through this present trial of cancer, or maybe especially through this, you have continued to be a great example. Your strength and faith in the face of your adversity is definitely an inspiration. And I have found myself realizing just how much I love my mother (who is also one of my best friends) and how I am SO grateful for you in my life. Happy Birthday, Mom! Here’s to MANY more!!

Love, Amy

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Mom,

Happy Birthday Mom!!! We hope you have a wonderful day. You're the best mom anyone could ask for; you are so strong!

We love you so much! Thanks for all you do for us!

Hope your head stays warm today!

Love, Byron

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Mom, today is your 54th Birthday and it is another day to celebrate the greatest Mom in the world. I know a lot of people say they have the greatest mom, but I truly believe that we have been blessed with a truly amazing mom. Don’t believe me, well let me give you some reasons why:

You are loving, caring, always serving, teaching, and parenting. I could go into detail about each one but I don’t think there is enough room in this post! What is the coolest thing about each of those words is that you don't only do those things for your family, but you also do them for whomever you come in contact with. I don’t think any person that has met you has walked away feeling unloved or unimportant. You have a way of making things better, and you are constantly doing that for me.

On the day we celebrate your birth, I (we) celebrate our birth to you. Because we could not be blessed with a mother better then you. Oh and I guess Dad is okay too :)

I love you so much, thank you for being my best friend, my confidant, and my mother. Happy Birthday to the greatest Mom any girl could ask for!

Love, Tauna

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I just want to take a quick moment to praise the world’s best mother! From the time I was a young chubby boy with a slight speech impediment, to a 14 year old with platinum blonde bleached hair, to a 17 year old waking her up at mid-night to come retrieve me from the police station, to now with a family of my own, she has always been there for me, helping me in all aspects of life. Many of my accomplishments and personal successes can be traced back to key moments in my life, where love and inspired parenting were given freely to me by my mother. Happens to be that many of her characteristics have rubbed off on me, and I am so glad to have those traits as a keepsake from all of her hard work and devotion that outlines her life. I am so lucky to have such a mother that has devoted her entire life to the raising and nurturing of her family. If it wasn't for her and her efforts, her 5 children would not be where they are today.

I love you LIL MICK!! I hope you have a great Birthday!

Love, Dan the Man

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Mom,

Happy Birthday! You are such an incredible person. These past months have been very difficult. But you still continue to be a wonderful example.

It’s amazing to think about all of the things that you do. Even being sick and tired you care about and for others. We knew when you were having ‘good’ days at the hospital because we would show up and you would tell us all about the lives of your nurses. I was even there once when you were giving dating advice to one of them! You have touched so many people’s lives. But most of all you have shown me how to care about people and how to be a good mom.

I heard a mother on TV talking about her family. The friend told her that she shouldn’t try to be her child’s friend. The mother said that she was trying to be the mother that her son liked. The friend said that she shouldn’t be the mother that he liked, she should be the mother that he needed.

After a particularly frustrating mothering day myself, I can see how this is really important and how it’s hard to always do it correctly. Thank you for always being that mother that I needed. And for now being the mother that I wanted. I love you! Happy Birthday!

Love, Charlene

"Stories on the Sabbath"

I've received several emails asking how "Stories on the Sabbath" came about.  In 1996 I compiled the book, “By Small and Simple Things” and in 1999 another book called “Out of Small Things”.  These books are a collection of short stories of Christlike Service from people that I interviewed.  Since the books are both out of print, (once in a while you can find the books on Amazon.com) I wanted to start sharing a story each Sunday from my books.  In Utah they have a radio station that plays “Sounds of the Sabbath” on Sunday.  So I decided to have “Stories on the Sabbath” become a weekly tradition too!.                                                                   

                                                                     "Listen"

"Don't go near that house!  He's the meanest man on the block!"  These could have been the words passed down through the years.  When Rob and I moved into Grandpa's house, we felt his silent presence through the response we received from the neighbors.  This was our first house, and we were in the process of buying it from Rob's grandfather.  After we moved in and began feeling some of the repercussions of the past, I had many second thoughts.  I had looked forward so much to being neighborly and becoming friends with all of my neighbors, but this didn't seem possible.  The people living around us were now old and didn't want to be bothered, especially by someone related to "him."

Grandpa Beardshall had been a very stern and forthright individual.  Through the years, he had said and done many things that had offended the neighbors.  Once he cut down all of his next-door neighbor's hedges, which grew between the two yards.  The reason for this, he later explained, was because "I couldn't see the cars coming down the street."  Another time he asked this same couple why they weren't going to church like they knew they should.  They were not LDS and were very offended.  Needless to say, the best of feelings did not await us when we arrived.  It took a child to soften their hearts.

When Spencer, our oldest child, turned two, he started playing outside quite a bit.  Dick and Gladys, our next-door neighbors (the same people who had put up with Grandpa all those years), still had chips on their shoulders.  They had only one son who had married, but he didn't have children.  We later learned that they loved children and longed for grandchildren.  As my little boy began playing outside more and more, I could see them watching him.  Inwardly I hoped that we could become friends, but I didn't know how to approach them. 

Then one day as Dick and Gladys were sitting on their lawn chairs, Spencer knocked a ball into their yard.  As he ran over to get it, I froze.  How would they feel about having one of Grandpa Bearshall's great-grandsons on their property?  My fears were short-lived as I saw Dick reach down and hand the ball to Spencer.  Gladys took him by the hand and walked him over to our house.  It seemed like the years of bitterness had begun to melt away.  It soon became a daily routine for Spencer to go over to Dick and Gladys' house for some "Sprite."  And Gladys would read to him and play with him. 

To help our friendship grow, I tried to continually be aware of anything I could do for them.  I had learned that Gladys was a staunch University of Utah fan.  She rooted for the Utah Ute’s and never missed a game.  On the other hand, Rob and I had attended BYU and were died-in-the-wool "Cougars."  Our rivalry became a source of friendship, and we had a good time rooting for our separate teams.    

One Saturday, BYU was playing the U of U in basketball.  As luck would have it, BYU won.  I wanted to do something to commemorate our victory, but the day was turning out to be a very hectic one.  While talking to my mother on the phone, I told her of the fun, ongoing rivalry we had with our neighbors.  I had really wanted to make a blue-and-white cake and take it over to Gladys, but I didn't feel like I had the time.  Like many other young mothers, my intentions were good, but there were so many things that fell in the way of actually accomplishing them.  As I expressed this to my mother, she told me not to worry about the cake; it would cause too much stress on my family.  "Just call Gladys instead," she counseled.  But as I hung up the phone, I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that I ought to do something more than call.

I recognized that feeling; I had experienced it many times.  But still I questioned:  Why would the Holy Ghost care if BYU won? Why did he so badly want me to acknowledge that fact with Gladys today?  Couldn't the cake wait for a time that was more convenient for me?  Besides, I didn't know if Gladys and Dick could even eat the cake with their health problems.  I had just about talked myself out of it when the gnawing feeling came back:  "Do it anyway!"

Later that evening I took over a blue-and-white cake.  I left it on the doorstep, rang the doorbell, and ran.  I hadn't been home for more than five minutes when the phone rang.  I heard Gladys's strange-sounding voice on the other end.  Oh no, I thought.  Was she angry that U of U lost, and didn't appreciate my kind of humor?  Meekly I responded to her salutation.  Then her next words took me totally by surprise:  "I wanted to thank you so much.  This has got to be the most darling birthday cake I have ever had!"  She must have wondered if I dropped the phone.  I was dumbfounded!  How grateful I was for the continual prompting I had received earlier that day.  I learned a lesson that I have never forgotten.  If we are prompted to serve someone and we don't understand why, we need to be wise enough to obey anyway.

Because of this one act of service our friendship blossomed, and through the years we became really close.  After her husband died, we included her in all our family activities.  Our children grew to love her and considered her another grandmother.  Our lives were enriched because of our association.  Her health went downhill soon after we moved to Las Vegas, and she died shortly thereafter.  What a blessing it was to have known, loved, and served her.  We are better people because of it.

                                                          

                                                                           --Elaine Beardshall,  (By Small & Simple Things)

  

Attitude - "A happy person is not a person in a certain set of circumstances, but rather a person with a certain set of attitudes."

I was recently reading an article that talked about Attitude and found the above quote. It really got me thinking about our situation and many others.  Yesterday Craig went back to his doctor for his 3 month checkup.  He took another PSA blood test which would show any level of cancer still left after the surgery.  We were elated when the results came back as “0”.  He is cancer free and will only need to go back to the doctor yearly to keep an eye on his PSA.  What a blessing this is!  During these past few months when I have been really sick, I have been so grateful that it was me that had to have chemo-therapy instead of Craig.  There is no way he could go to work and make a living for us feeling the way I do.  So that helped my attitude. 

Today at chemo I had another attitude shift.  I had a CT scan done on Monday and the doctor was going to tell me the results today.  I was a little bit nervous, but optimistically hopeful that the cancer would not have started growing back.  I breathed with a sigh when he affirmed this information and told me that my CA-125 had now gone down to 51 (normal being 0-35).  How thrilling!  Yet after talking to him more, he feels like I still need to get a mammogram and take the BRCA 1 & 2 test which will tell me if I have the "cancer gene" or not.  He suggested if I have the gene, then I might want to be proactive and have a double mastectomy to thwart the chance of me getting breast cancer.  Needless to say as I went in to start my chemo – I had mixed feelings.  I was grateful that my numbers are going down, but worried what will happen to me next.  I guess that’s when I realized that I needed an attitude adjustment.  The guy sitting two recliners down from me in chemo was told that his white blood count was too low and that he wouldn’t be able to receive treatment today.  Then they told him that he would have to have a shot every day for the next week and and then they would re-check his blood and see if his count was good enough to treat next week.  I saw the disappointment on his face, and my heart totally went out to him.  Even though it’s not the most enjoyable thing for me to have chemo every week – at least every treatment I receive, gets me closer to the finish.  I have been blessed that my blood counts have been high enough every week!  Today that helped me have an attitude adjustment and try to focus on the positive things in my life!  I want to share a story with you and I'm pretty sure some of you might have already heard it. But when I read it today, it made me cry and realize how important my Attitude really is and how it can affect others around me!

“There were two men both seriously ill; who occupied the same hospital room.  One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.  His bed was next to the room’s only window.  The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.  Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. 

The man lying down in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world described outside.  The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.  Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats.  Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.  As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.  Days and weeks passed as they shared these beautiful scenes. 

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the  lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.  She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.  As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.  The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.  Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.  He strained slowly to turn and look out the window beside the bed, only to find it faced a blank wall.  The man was in shock.  He asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased friend to describe such wonderful things outside the window.  The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.  “Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you,” she said. 

Wow what an uplifiting story!  The article ended by saying, "A person's attitude toward himself can have a profond influence on his attitude toward his family, friends, business, future and many other significant areas of his life."  What a true statement.  This has really made me stop and revaluate how much more I can do at helping other's have a better attitude about things, just by me having a good attitude.  A good challenge for all of us!

Happy Birthday Dear Sister!

Today's my oldest sister, Marsha Romney Stratton's birthday.  She is a dear friend and great example to me.  She's the oldest and I'm the baby and so that gives us a special bond. (There are eleven years between us).  She has dedicated her life to genealogy and has an undying desire to keep our family ties strong.  If you ever have a question about our family, she is the one to call or email.  I am so impressed with how unselfish she is as she will stop what she is doing and spend hours looking for the picture, or story or CD that someone has asked for.  The amazing thing is that she really "knows" about our family lines like they were real people.  She has been involved in countless "missionary opportunities" with some of our living non-member family members.  As she shares real stories of their ancestors that she has researched, the spirit of Elijah subtly begins to fill their hearts.  I know the Lord loves her and is so pleased with her life and dedicated service to his children.  I hope I can glean from her example and become like her.  I love her so much and know that she loves me with all her heart.  How blessed I am to have been born into this family.

"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                    To Serve Him is to Love Him

I was paralyzed with fear when I received that dreaded phone call on January 7, 1991.  As I drove to the hospital I silently prayed, "Please God, don't let it end this way."  My husband Don and I had been married fourteen years.  We had been struggling financially and were experiencing great stress, and we had drifted apart.  We both were just tired of our life together, and our marriage seemed much more work than it was worth.  To compound matters, we also had to deal with our teenagers.

Several months earlier, Don had been in an auto accident.  I was very upset but relieved; when I reached him to find out he was fine.  This time, however, I felt that things were different.  I wondered, "Is the Lord going to take him because of the bad feelings I've had?"  I didn't understand why, but as I drove to the hospital I felt that this accident had a purpose.  I wasn't sure what it was, but felt certain that the Lord would use this experience to teach me something.

I wondered if I was so hard-headed that this was the only way the Lord could get my attention.  In the past we had a good marriage, but in recent months we had steadily moved in different directions. When hard times began instead of building each other up, we constantly found fault.  I was once told, "You should be the guardian of your spouse's self-esteem."  We had certainly fallen far short of this sound advice. With news of his first accident, a part of me started to soften but with the realization that Don had been in no imminent danger, my protective walls went right back up.

At the hospital, I found Don unconscious!  He had been up on a ladder and had fallen two stories.  I had no idea as to the extent of his injuries, and fear gripped my heart.  I knew that people had been paralyzed or even died from falling just one story.  I silently prayed for help.  Why was this happening to us now, when we were having so many other problems?  Though deeply frustrated I felt something for Don I hadn't experienced in a long time. The thought of actually losing him cut deeply into my heart.

The next five and a half hours seemed like an eternity.  Don was taken to the operating room for reconstructive surgery.  He had landed on his ankle, crushing it and his entire leg had crumpled under the weight.  The bone was broken so severely that it protruded through his skin. 

During the next few months, Don experienced excruciating pain.  He was not allowed to put even the slightest bit of pressure on his leg.  He was forced to lie completely still while the healing process began.

We were really struggling with this ordeal.  Our lives were totally uprooted by it, and many changes were forced upon us.  Don had to rely on me to help him with everything. Then as I began serving him, our feelings started to change.  It was impossible for him to sleep in our waterbed and still remain motionless, so I made a bed for him in the den.  In this room it was very cold at night and in the early morning.  A fire in the fireplace made it bearable, so I continually stoked the fire all through the nights in order to keep him warm.

Don couldn't tend to any of his personal needs without me, which forced us to be closer to each other than we had been in a long time.  At first he was not pleasant with the forced intimacy. I'm sure the pain he was enduring was more than I will ever comprehend.  However, the miracle that took place between the two of us was worth any pain that either of us would ever experience.

The more I served Don, the more I loved him.  Feelings long ago buried were born again.  And because of the many hours of love and service I gave, he also experienced a great change of heart.  We didn't fall in love--we grew in love.  In retrospect, I am frightened by the direction our lives were taking!  I know the Lord didn't cause this accident, yet I am thankful he allowed us this opportunity to change.  I have truly witnessed a miraculous change of heart in both of us.  We now have a bond of love and friendship such as we never had before.  I testify that the best way to learn to love your spouse is to serve him or her unselfishly.  We have now been married more than twenty years, and look forward to the rest of time and eternity together.  

                                                                     --Susan (By Small & Simple Things)

  

I'm Half Way done with Chemo!!!

Today is my dear mother’s 88^th Birthday!  What an incredible lady Pearl Tenney Romney is.  I want to pay tribute to her and let her know that she has been one of the greatest influences in my life!  She has been the wind beneath my wing for so many years.  I’m so grateful to have had such great parents who taught me by example as well as precept, the importance of service and having a testimony of  Jesus Christ.  Thank you Mom and Dad.  I love you both!

Yesterday marked me completing 9 weeks of chemo - that's half way.  In total, I have 18 treatments and I am now looking on the downside of things - only 9 weeks left.  So that is encouraging!  These last 2 weeks I had my chemo a day earlier each week in order to get us back on schedule to Wednesdays.  Surprisingly enough it has not been as bad as I thought.  The first week of every 3 is the worst and it takes about 2 weeks to start feeling better.  Then I have a few days that third week when I feel half way good and then it’s time to start another 3 week cycle. 

Last week I asked the nurse that if my CA-125 continued dropping to the normal range (0-35) would that mean that I was “cancer free”?  She said, “Not exactly.  You could say you were in remission at that point.  But because of the nature of the beast of Ovarian Cancer, you never know when it will raise its ugly head again.”  I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear this, because right when I was diagnosed, Dr. Wallentine told me that I would be fighting this cancer for the rest of my life.  But I guess seeing my numbers come down with the CA-125 made me get excited and hope for a total cure.  This is something that I am going to have to live with or die with, it's totally up to the Lord's timetable.  I've just got to make sure I'm doing all I can in my power to keep me here as long as the Lord is willing.

These last two weeks I have had some lonely times and I could feel myself starting to get depressed.   It’s hard with a personality like mine who never "stops", to now be one that hardly gets to “go” anymore.  I have realized that I have to allow myself time to be sick and then when I start to feel a little better, that’s when I need to push myself or else I will get depressed.  This last week I drug myself to Walmart.  I knew if I could get to one of those motorized carts, I would be able to have some freedom.  I totally enjoyed myself driving around like a little granny.  A worker helped me out to the car with my groceries and when I got home, I had enough energy to put the groceries away and even cut up some of the vegetables I bought.  I’ve noticed something very interesting about myself.  When I am around people or pushing myself to try and do something, I must release endorphins or something because I start feeling much better than I would have if I had stayed in bed.  The balance for me is learning to know when to push and when to let myself rest. 

In the book "Digging Deeper" by Robert Eaton, he uses an Illustration to graphically depict this phenomenon. Afflictions inevitably fly through our lives like a wedge. Adversity lifts some of us closer to God, even as it pushes others down and drives them further from God. I've been reading about Adversity, because it seems like I am surrounded by it.  Elder Dallin H. Oaks notes, the issue is not whether we will have adversity in our lives but what role we will let adversity play:

“Adversity will be a constant or occasional companion for each of us throughout our lives. We cannot avoid it. The only question is how we will react to it.  Will our adversities be stumbling blocks or stepping-stones?” 

When I saw this diagram, it made me stop and think how I am doing in regards to my attitude and my trials. Which direction has the wedge of Affliction sent me?  I am hoping it is turning me upward to God.   I am learning that our trials will sanctify us if we can somehow remain patient, trusting not only in the power but also in the timing of a loving Heavenly Father. "Although they may grouse from time to time about its ferocity, softened saints will ultimately thank God for the wind of affliction that goes forth out of His mouth because they recognize such wind propels them to their personal lands of promise."

"Stories On the Sabbath"

My Brownies Made A Difference

I was exhausted!  Being a single parent and providing our only income required that I work afternoons and evenings to try to make ends meet.  My three children and I had been living in a tiny apartment, and I had finally found a larger one that I could afford.  Because of my work schedule, I had limited time to make this move.  At first I felt very overwhelmed trying to do all this by myself.  One morning I was pleasantly surprised when four volunteers--sisters from my ward Relief Society--came to my door.  One was my visiting teacher and another was the Relief Society president.  As we worked together, I felt a surge of hope and great strength.  They were so helpful, and I deeply appreciated their timely efforts.  That very day, I vowed that I would do something for each of these women to show my gratitude, even if it was just a little note or a plate of cookies.

Soon we were in our new home, and I was running again at full speed.  I often thought back to that reassuring feeling of strength I had felt when those sisters were helping me, and I was continually reminded of the vow I had made that day.  However, the more I tried to find the time to make these sisters something, the harder it became.  The adversary had almost convinced me that as a single parent, I just couldn't take time out of my extremely busy schedule.  It was so difficult to fit anything extra into my life.  So I kept procrastinating.

One Saturday morning, I awoke with a full list of things to accomplish; then an overwhelming feeling came over me.  As I started down my list of things to do, I couldn't continue.  I felt a distinct impression that I should take that day to do something to thank those dear sisters who had helped me move.  Part of me kept thinking, "But I need to do these other things . . . why today?  I've waited this long; what's another day or two going to matter?"  But the feeling lingered.  "Don't put it off anymore!  Get it done today." 

I knew that I was not going to feel good until I got this done, so I quickly set to work.  I decided to mix up a relatively easy recipe of chocolate brownies, but it was trouble from the beginning.  One batch was over-done because my oven cooked hotter than normal, and the recipe did not produce as many brownies as it said it would.  Money was very tight and I could not afford to get more groceries until next payday.  So when I ran out of eggs that quickly ended the making of any more brownies. 

Then I turned to see my daughters eating the only few decent brownies I did have.  I was so frustrated that I felt like throwing them all in the trash and counting this as one of my stupid ideas. The adversary had a heyday with me, and I allowed him to discourage me for a while.  I felt worthless and inadequate.  What made me think these ladies would want such horrible looking brownies?  "No, I'm not going to take these to them," I thought.  "It won't make a difference anyway."  The adversary had almost won.  Then that same little feeling nudged its way ever so slightly into my heart once again:  "Go ahead and do it, even if there are only six brownies on each plate.  It's the thought that counts!"

With faith like that of a child, I obeyed.  I placed six over-done brownies on each plate, covered them with saran wrap, and tied a ribbon around each package, trying to make my burnt offering look as presentable as possible.  Hesitantly I took these plates to each of the four ladies.  As I handed them my meager gift, I was appropriately thanked.  However, Peggy, our Relief Society president, gave me a somewhat puzzled look, as if her thoughts were somewhere else.  I felt as if I had interrupted her, and she was having trouble changing her train of thought, so I quickly exchanged pleasantries with her and left.

On the way home, even though I was puzzled by Peggy's response, I felt a sense of satisfaction.  Grateful that I had been able in some way to say "thank you," I was able to walk a little taller that day.  I knew those brownies wouldn't matter much to those sisters, although they had to me.  But I was very wrong.  It wasn't until two years later, when Peggy was giving a talk that I learned what a difference those brownies had made.

Peggy spoke about going through a terrible depression at that time.  "I didn't feel that I was talented, or worthy, or even capable enough to have received this job as Relief Society president," she said.  "I felt that the bishop had made a terrible mistake in calling me and that I was more or less an imposter.  I was just waiting for others to catch on to my inefficiency."  She had poured out her soul in prayer, asking for some reassurance--and that was the day I came by with my brownies. 

Coming to Peggy's door with my meager offering was an answer to her prayers.  Peggy began to realize that maybe she had made a difference, and that God was aware of her.  A sweet peace came over her and calmed all of her fears.  When I look back on this experience, I realize how both of us felt that we had not made a difference, when in reality we had done exactly that.

I've come to realize that when we are tempted to NOT do something, it is usually because it will make a difference for good in someone's life.  I am so thankful that I listened to the Spirit that day and returned service to Peggy when she needed it most.  The next time we feel the adversary's influence, we should get excited and know that something great is about to happen, because the adversary doesn't waste his time on anything unprofitable. We need to replace our fear with faith, and go forth and make a difference.

                                                -- Katherine Harrison Ogden (By Small and Simple Things)

God Hears and Answers Our Prayers!

I had an incredible ending to a miraculous week.  Heavenly Father granted me my 4th miracle!  I was able to witness the blessing of my grandson by his father and stay and listen to Byron and Tracy as they gave beautiful, heartfelt talks in sacrament meeting.  Then I was still feeling good enough to go to the family get-to-gether after it was all over.  I kept feeling like Cinderella, waiting for the magic to end.....but it didn't.  I felt good all day Sunday! 

All our family left on Sunday and on Monday morning I woke up feeling like I had been run over by a Semi.  My legs and body ached all over and I could hardly move.  I felt sick to my stomach and very dizzy.  As I moved slowly from my bed to try and get something to eat....I had nothing but gratitude in my heart.  I was willing now to take any degree of sickness and pain in order to have received the good health I had last week.  How incredible is Heavenly Father?  It's like I couldn't believe that He had heard my prayers and granted me all of these miracles...but He had!  It was as if He held off the effects of the chemo for me, just like He parted the Red Sea for Moses. 

I usually have my chemo treatments on Wednesdays, but we put it off until Friday last week.  Now this week, I will have chemo on Thursday and next week it will be back to Wednesdays.  By doing this it puts us back on the original schedule.  Since it won't be a full week when I have chemo again, I hope it won't hit me too hard.  But I'm willing to take whatever comes.  I just got the results of the CA(Cancer Antigen)125 blood test back and I am elated!  Before my surgery it was 686.  After surgery it was 350.  After 3 weeks of chemo it was 165 and after 6 weeks of chemo it is 81!  Normal is 0-35.  So we are closing in on being normal - which means the chemo is killing the cancer!!!!!!

Yesterday while I was in bed, I read a quote that touched my heart.  Elder Neal A. Maxwell said, "I testify to you that God has known you individually for a long, long time.  He has loved you for a long, long time.  He not only knows the names of all the stars, He knows YOUR name and all your heartaches and your joys." (May Ensign 2004 pg. 46.)

That quote makes me cry!  God knew that chemo was a source of heartache and made me so sick and He also knew the joy that being with my family and participating in these sacred ordinances meant to me and He blessed me to be able to experience that joy! I am so grateful for this great blessing.  I know that many of you prayed in my behalf and I thank you, as well as my Heavenly Father from the bottom of my heart. I testify that He knows each of us by name and He hears and answers our prayers according to his timeline.

"Stories on the Sabbath" - Happy New Year!

                                                       The Silent Strength of Others - A Parable

I was alone…all alone in the darkness of the freeway, going 55 m.p.h.  I tried turning on the windshield wipers so I could see better and to help remove the rain that was now increasing.  There was no action.  They did not work.  Then my headlights dimmed and, almost instantly, I was in complete darkness.

That day had started off fairly well.  I had attended an excellent religion class at BYU where we discussed how the Savior taught the multitude in parables, which permitted him to teach "the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 13:11) to those who would understand them.  His parables had multiple meanings or applications appropriate to the spiritual maturity of the listener.  They had a message for both children and gospel scholars.  As I left the class, my mind was keen to the brilliance of the Savior's technique and I pondered, "How many modern-day parables happen right before our eyes, and yet we miss the great truths that have been taught?"

It was dusk, and I had been to the temple.  As I got in the car to go home, I turned on my car lights without thinking.  Then I remembered the problems I had with the battery after class, and I quickly turned them off again.  Being a single mother brought with it many challenges.  One of the hardest things for me was to have to rely on others for strength to help me out of problem situations.  During the times my car would not start, I had been able to get jump-starts from other people.  However, I felt secure now, thinking that the problem of dimming headlights had finally been corrected.  I was truly grateful for a friend to drop me off at my car and wait to see if it would start.  When the car started so quickly, I was confident that I would be able to get home safely, so I told my friend to go on home.

My feelings of security were a bit short-lived.  It was dark and very late as I entered the south end of Provo.  I became aware, once again, that my headlights were starting to dim.  It was a fleeting observation and I did not dwell on it until I discovered that I was the lead car going onto the freeway at the University on-ramp.  The curve was long and the street lights were not yet on.  I was surprised when I realized that I could not see well enough to find the turn in the road.  The reflectors on the side of the road gave me no feedback either.  At 55 m.p.h. I didn't want to take chances, so I quickly put on my blinker and pulled to the side lane to let the other car take the lead.  I pulled back into position behind him as I followed his car onto the freeway.

The rain began to drizzle a bit harder, and I noticed the lack of lighting on the freeway.  I had driven this road many times, yet had never before noticed the lighting.  I was thankful for the car that was leading the way in front of me, and I felt secure again.  Then, without signaling, this car took the last Springville off-ramp.  There were no cars in front of or behind me.  I was totally alone. 

"Oh, Father," I prayed, "please bless it to not rain any harder until I get home, and please bless me to get home safely."  I soon noticed that the speed of the car and the wind action combined to remove the rain from the window, and I could see better.  But now there was a more serious problem--a problem that if not corrected immediately would cost me my life!  I needed to get a focal point, a distant object that I could use to determine my position, from which I could set my course.  The freeway lights were not giving me any help, and there was no light from my vehicle for the reflectors along the side of the road to reflect back.  I needed to find another source of longer lasting security, a source that would let me borrow some of its energy.  But I could see nothing immediate that I could focus on or draw from.

The cars about two miles in front of me showed me that the highway was still straight.  I followed in blind faith, relying on my memory; I had driven this same road hundreds of times.  I prayed that there were no unseen obstacles in my path.  I knew that other cars had also driven on this same road this same night, and they had passed through safely.  This gave me courage to know that I could, too.

I was amazed at the total trust that was required.  I seemed to be doing all right, but   once again I turned to prayer:  "Father, please give me strength to endure this emotionally stressful situation."  I knew that if I stopped, I might give up the journey.  If I slowed down, another car behind me might run into me from the rear because I had no taillights.  My vehicle showed no visible signs to others that I was even present.

Before I knew it, I was in the freeway exchange at Spanish Fork.  I had never before noticed such darkness.  The freeway was curving, a gentle 90-degree turn that extended about half a mile.  I could not even see the white line in the road, and the other cars were no longer visible.  I had nothing to guide me through this turn, nothing except the distant lights of the town.  I knew where I was, and I knew where I needed to go, but to what extent I needed to turn the wheel, I was unsure.  Again I pleaded for help from the Lord:  "Father, please help me to get through this area and this turn safely."  I was ready to slam on the brakes right there.  I was ready to give up.  I wanted to stop.  The unknown felt so unsafe.  However, images of the distant cars in my rearview mirror made me feel that I would jeopardize their safety if I chose to stop now.

I drew upon the security of the distant lights ahead of me.  I estimated the turn, and in the quiet darkness proceeded to do my part.  I knew the Lord would do his.  After going over the bridge, I could see a colored line in front of my car, about a foot to the right of my left wheel, pointing the way.  Where was I?  Was that the middle line?  I looked again.  No.  It was a solid line.  I had misjudged.  I was way off course, about two inches from going off the left edge of the road.  I quickly reevaluated my decision to use blind faith and decided that I needed help from someone else before I could go on.  How could the Lord bless me if I did not help myself?

I pulled over to the side of the road, using the faint reflection of the distant lights upon the wet highway to show me where the edge of the road was.  Carefully I pulled to a stop just beyond the Spanish Fork on-ramp.  I thanked the Lord for blessing me to get through the last curve, and asked for another blessing to get home to my six waiting children.

It was not too long before a car came over the bridge.  I quickly took my position behind this driver.  He was going at a constant speed, not speeding up or slowing down, which gave me great security, and it was at a comfortable speed.  I knew he was aware of my presence behind him, but I do not think he knew how much I needed his light and his silent support.  There was such a contrast in how I felt now and how I had felt just ten miles back.  I could very easily have gone off in the wrong direction and in a moment destroyed myself.  Now I was secure and calm, following someone who had enough light to illuminate the road ahead for both of us.  I was thankful for his preparation and for his presence.

When we turned onto the exit of my town, we pulled up to the stop sign.  I wanted to jump out of my car and share with him what had just happened to me, and to thank him for his help and support.  But as I approached his car, he turned the corner and was gone before I could get to him.  He would never know of the invaluable service he had given me, the powerful influence for good he had been.  I realize now, more than ever, that silent strength from others continues to see me through each day.

As I parked in front of my home and listened to the rain that was now coming in a heavy downpour, I realized that I had just experienced a parable.  Just like Jesus’ parables, it too had multiple meanings--great applications appropriate to the spiritual maturity of those who would receive it.

                                   --Carol Hill Curran Petersen, serves as a Seminary Teacher

                                             (from By Small and Simple Things)