Zion

A friend of mine, about a week ago, sent me a text and asked me "What is God's purpose for our lives?" I sent her one word: Joy. She said that she felt joy was important, but could not see that as the purpose of life. For the last week I have found myself pondering the idea of joy again. My step-mother told me a comment her stake president made. Something to the effect that joy comes from strict obedience.
Last night I was talking with a friend and she made the comment that when we are growing we are increasing our capacity for joy. I like that. There is a truth that all of these thoughts have lead me to. Joy is a state of being that can be found in a "poor heart" or, a heart that is open to truth and growth. The heart that is able to see a trial as a way for increasing their capacity for joy, to see obedience as the tool that leads to joy, to see joy as the purpose and aim of life - that heart is one that is open and able to be close to God.
An open heart will lead to relationships that promote the building of Zion. The connection that happens to two or more people whose hearts are completely open is indescribable. There is a refuge found in that relationship. There is a holy, sacred peace that can only be described as joy. Rejoicing in truth. Rejoicing in our ability to truly see each other. Rejoicing in our hearts having a place to go where all is love and assurance.
I have another friend whose 4th child is taking his/her time in getting here. She is 42 weeks along (plus 1 day) and this baby has reminded me of another aspect of joy. The trial of waiting increases this families ability to rejoice when the baby arrives, but there is another joy I see here. Maybe it is because I am not the one carrying the baby....I'm sure that helps my ability to see things a little differently.
As those of you who know me know, I am unable to have children. This friend has included me in every aspect of motherhood that she could. And I am writing this post from her computer, hoping she has this baby before I have to go back to work on Wednesday morning. This baby has brought she and I closer together in our relationship. As I watch her hope and wait for this baby, I find myself feeling gratitude for all that this experience is to me. In Isaiah 14:32 we read, "What shall one then answer the messengers of the nation? That the Lord hath founded Zion, and the poor of his people shall trust in it."
This is the joy I see in this experience. The temporal aspect of Zion is that "there [are] no poor among them." My friend is giving me the opportunity to experience something I could never have had any other way. She is sharing what she has with one who has not. She is giving me a glimpse of our eternal goal. Tonight I feel like the poor of God's people, trusting in Zion.

The Barren Winter

As I was driving today I saw such beautiful scenery - it was all I could do to keep driving and not pull over and sit in the silence for a while. I noticed the pristine snow on the mountains as I headed south. There was thick fog that went from the valley to the mid-mountain area, making the mountain look like it was floating on the clouds. What few trees existed were barren and the glories of spring were buried underneath the layers of snow and ice.

I found myself pondering how very like nature we are - again. The glories of spring and summer, as they fade into fall and finally seem to be lost in winter, are never really that far away. Spring brings forth the blossom and the bud, evidence that life still exists. Summer is the time for growth and fruit. Fall is the time for harvesting and pruning back. Then there is the quiet winter - time for reflection and introspection.

There is an even flow to nature, all seasons are important and necessary. To live life without them would be wasteful and fruitless. And the older I grow, the more I come to appreciate the "winter" of life. There is much to be said for times of reflection on both my own life and the wisdom in the lives of those who have gone before me. If I wish to learn and to improve, winter must come regularly, in it's duly appointed time.

As I watched the sun crest the mountain and felt the warmth of it's rays on my arm and the side of my face I was again struck by the glory of God's creations. The snow became fire and the mountains in the distance to the south began to change from shades of pink, to shades of yellow, to brilliance. I suppose that is what happens to each of us as the Son sheds His light on us. We grow and we change and we become more than we ever imagined possible. We see more clearly and understand more fully.

We find joy in the changes of spring that bring new life and new hope. We have fulfillment in the growth of summer and the fruits of our hopeful spring. We are grateful in the pruning moderation of fall that reminds us to keep ourselves in balance. And we rejoice, greatly, in the reflection of winter that allows us to meditate on where we have been, where we are headed, and anticipate the new path that will unfold in front of us next spring.

In our reflection is the blossom of spring, given warmth by the heat of summers past burning in our hearts, and made fertile by the memories of fall - all are treasured up and held sacred through the barren winter.

13.....Unlucky?

I recently had my 13th miscarriage. It was a very hard experience. Previous to this I have always had the hope that one day....

But this time I am resigned to the statistics of 11.5 years. At first I felt very desperate and devoid of any hope. As time wore on I found myself striving to put up walls to erase the pain and eradicate the loneliness that was trying to creep into my soul. For most of my life these walls have existed and it is only recently that they have begun to come down. I think this is why number 13 was so painful.

I have come to the decision that 13 is not unlucky though. I have learned things that I would not have learned otherwise - as has been true of the previous 12. I was reading "The Brothers Karamazov" and found the perfect expression of my feeling. It is something I have said to many people over the last month or so, but these words seem to say it perfectly.

"It's the great mystery of human life that old grief passes gradually into quiet tender joy."
- Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

With that in my heart I felt my friend's 6-month belly for the better part of an hour, I held a 3-month-old baby in my arms and wept. With this hope for healing I embraced the children in my nursery class and sang songs with them and played dolls and trucks with them. Believing fervently that one day my "well of laughter will spring from the bucket of my tears," I seek out the mothers in my life and offer to watch their children while they get a much needed and much deserved afternoon of peace. And do you know, somewhere between sealing 30 daughters to their parents in the temple my heart healed. There is not one more tear - not because of walls - but because of joy....funny, isn't it?

I have made a remarkable discovery: my pain is my sledgehammer to break down the walls in my heart. When I embrace it fully and give it the ache it deserves, walls come down and I somehow heal. Only, I am much more whole than before, for another wall has been turned into powder and blown away by my laughter.

Mothers, Please Teach!

I know so many people who are worried about raising children today. They are concerned about the direction the world is taking. They want their children to grow up carefree and able to play in the yard without an adult sitting out with them. They want their children to know the feeling of going for a bike ride by themselves, of growing up in a community that does not have an under-girding of fear and terror.

Today I feel sad that I do not have children. I would teach them and give them guidance. They would be the voice to shout out when mine has died down. They would not let the this country fall when I can no longer raise the flag. They would be taught what true freedom is and how to preserve it, in their hearts as well as in the community around them.

There were once mothers who felt as I do. They raised noble youth. They raised sons who had a love of freedom and a love of God that was unshakable and undeniable. It was a passion that drove them to act and miracles happened because they were taught and believed.

These mothers kept in remembrance those things which were essential and taught them to their children. They did not waste time on frivolities which were neither crucial nor consequential. They taught their children from a place of knowledge. These mothers knew who they were and what God wanted them to do. They were full of faith and integrity. They cared more about preparing their children to face the world around them than anything else. They knew it was their duty to raise these children in the way they should go up. They did not shirk this responsibility and were daily prayerful that they might be guided in the education of their children.

What was the result of the faithfulness, integrity, devotion, and intuition of these women? "And they were all young men, and they were exceedingly valiant for courage, and also for strength and activity; but behold, this was not all - they were men who were true at all times in whatsoever thing they were entrusted. Yea they were men of truth and soberness, for they had been taught to keep the commandments of God and to walk uprightly before him." (Alma 53: 20-21)

Now all you mothers have a choice. You can fear and dread the coming days, bemoaning your children. Or, you can raise up a righteous generation. This generation, now just babes in arms, will have to stand even as the army of Helaman. There is a cry being raised. There is a need for mothers who will teach their children to preserve their liberty and to fight, if necessary, "In memory of our God, our religion, and freedom, and our peace, our wives, and our children." (Alma 46:12)

The title of liberty is once again about to go forth. America is calling all of her brave and valiant sons to learn while in their youth because they will be needed when they enter into manhood. Now is the time to prepare. Tomorrow will be too late.

You mothers, those of you who have children you worry over. Start now, today. Teach yourself as you teach them. If you don't know where to start, ask. If you don't know what needs to be preserved, spend less time taking quizzes on facebook and more time learning about this country during its inception. Read the words of the men who helped form this nation. Learn about the history of the world and of the United States. Then TEACH YOUR CHILDREN. If you do not have children, teach those you are in contact with. It is the responsibility of every adult to teach those children within the circle of their influence.

"Now Satan is anxious to neutralize the inspired counsel of the Prophet...For example, he will argue, 'There is no need to get involved for the fight for freedom-all you need to do is live the gospel.' Of course this is a contradiction, because we cannot fully live the gospel and not be involved in the fight for freedom." - Ezra Taft Benson, (Our Immediate Responsibility - BYU: October 25, 1966)

There cannot be hope for tomorrow without the children of today. You will either hinder the cause of freedom and thus the cause of God, or you will help it. The direction is decided each day in each home. The time of carefree childhoods is passed. Children must be warned and then given direction. Give them something to do - not just worry.

“Reduced to its lowest terms, the great struggle which now rocks the whole earth more and more takes on the character of a struggle of the individual versus the state. . . . Do not think that all these usurpations, intimidations, and impositions are being done to us through inadvertency or mistake, the whole course is deliberately planned and carried out; its purpose is to destroy the Constitution and our Constitutional government....We have lost the conflict so far waged. But there is time to win the final victory, if we sense our danger, and fight.” (J. Reuben Clark, America Faces Freedom-Slavery Issue, Church News, September 25, 1949.)

The calamities which face our world and this country are coming. There is nothing we can do to stop them. But we can prepare for them. We can raise up a band of youth who will know what to do and how to lead. Sheltering is no longer an option. Your children will be called upon, be certain of that. This is not a question of "if" but "when." Will you teach them? Will you give them the knowledge and base of faith they need to survive the war ahead? I cannot emphasize enough the need to teach and prepare now. Your children WILL face the calamities of the last days. They must be given strength and be taught now, today, while you are still able to mold good habits and teach true principles.

"In connection with attack on the United States, the Lord told the Prophet Joseph Smith there would be an attempt to overthrow the country by destroying the Constitution. Joseph Smith predicted that the time would come when the Constitution would hang, as it were, by a thread, and at that time 'this people will step forth and save it from the threatened destruction.' (Journal History, Brigham Young's Speech, July 4, 1854.)
It is my conviction that the elders of Israel, widely spread over the nation will at that crucial time successfully rally the righteous of our country and provide the necessary balance of strength to save the institutions of constitutional government." (Ezra Taft Benson, Conference Report, Afternoon Meeting, p. 75. October 1961.)

It is unavoidable. It is coming, and it will happen. Your children will be prepared, or they won't. I see so many who say "All is well in Zion, yea Zion prospereth, all is well." Not looking to the future and realizing that we are in our years of plenty, but the years of spiritual and mental famine are coming. The desire to enslave this people is growing. It is growing from those in power who lull the week-minded away into carnal security by telling them that they cannot and do not need to be responsible for themselves; freedom is too great a responsibility for you, let the government take care of you.

Mothers, teach your children. They will be asked to stand. The children who have been taught will be asked to lead. Will you give your children the mentoring necessary to help them survive? It will be the "elders of Israel" who will "rally the righteous of our country." Your sons will be those elders. You cannot pretend that today does not matter, that you can waste today because tomorrow will always be there.

Learn what you need to know, and then teach it to your children. You have the time. MAKE the time. There is nothing more crucial and important on this earth than teaching your children how to act in faith and to preserve their freedom.

"Next to being one in worshiping GOD there is NOTHING in this world upon which this CHURCH should be more united than in upholding and DEFENDING the CONSTITUTION of the United States."-- David O. McKay, Conference Report 1939, pg. 105

Mom

My mother had 11 children. She was the Relief Society president for 13 of my 18 years at home. She was on the City Council. She was the head of the Snowflake Heritage Foundation. She and my father started a summertime performance series called "Thursday Night in the Park." She was the President of the Silver Creek Performing Arts Association and the Symphony Guild. She was on the board for the National Registry of Homes. She taught English at the community college. She wrote several one-act plays that were performed in the community. She wrote 3 Book of Mormon musicals, two of them were performed and the last one was finished just weeks before she died. She started three museums. She kept in touch with 60+ family members and friends on a monthly basis.

It seemed she was constantly typing in the computer room if she was at home. My mother was a busy woman, a woman on a mission. It was her desire to keep the arts alive in Snowflake, AZ. She loved the arts and was ever mindful of the impact they have on people.

Growing up in her home, I could not help but have this same great love for expression in any form of art. I remember being a very young child and going to concerts. I watched the conductor, with his wand waving and suddenly beautiful music was heard. Here was magic! Sometime after the intermission I would fall asleep and my father would pick me up and carry me out to the car for the short 6-block ride home.

It was in this little town of less than 10,000 people that I began to learn about what power one person has when they live life on purpose. Yes, Snowflake is still a tiny town, but it is a town that was touched by a very powerful woman. A woman who wanted to have for her children what she was given.

When my mother was growing up there was someone living in Snowflake that brought the arts in a very real way. His name was Mr. Crandell. He was a teacher, and a beacon of light to those whose hearts were mesmerized by beautiful music and prose. He was my mother's teacher. In a town that was drunken with the sweat of athletes, he was a lone voice who said there was more - much more.

So my mother, 30 years after Mr. Crandell was only a fond memory of those who knew him, decided it was her mission to carry on where he left off. She started with one project that would inevitably bleed into the next project. From each came a myriad of other associations with boards and committees and meetings and hours and hours of discussion on the best way to get things done.

My mother has been dead for 12 years now. There is not a single person from my immediate family living in Snowflake. I do not know if her life's work has continued. Maybe she has become as Mr. Crandell, a memory for those who were around when it happened, but the rest of the world has no idea either one existed. But there will always be her brood of 11 to carry on her memory. We are growing ever more - my last count put us at 60, including the grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

JoAn Washburn died at age 58. I marvel sometimes at the list of things she accomplished in her 58 years - and the truth be told, most of it was accomplished from age 43-58. It was today 12 years ago that I sat in her bedroom and wondered if she was going to come home from the hospital dead or alive.

I remember sitting in that room, leaning against the headboard, staring down at the blue carpet. The room smelled as it had my whole life, my mother's smell. I sat there for hours wondering how my life was going to be changed. Even before the doctor told us she would not live long, a forboding had taken over inside of me.

Now, so many years later, I still wonder how my life is going to be different because she is gone. I don't do things the way everyone else does. I tell those I love that I love them, and often. I hug a lot. I say what I think when I have the chance, because I am aware how limited and rare each window of opportunity really is.

I will probably never write a play, be on a guild, start any foundations, organize any performing arts associations, be on the city council, or have an entire sports team of children. My home is silent as a tomb. My computer is full of half-written, poorly worded memoirs. Those who are in my life will go on much as they have when I am no longer here, with only my husband truly experiencing loss. Yet I am only worried about one thing. Who will know about JoAn Washburn? To whom will her legacy be passed on since I have no children of my own to tell about this magnificent woman?

So I tell you. There once lived a woman whose heart was as big as the expanse of heaven; whose dreams were magical and whose idea of life was so much more than we could imagine. She was known by many as a woman with a vision. She was known by several as a confidant and friend. She was known by some as a hero and a mentor. She was known to me as "mom."

The Parable

Below is a link to my latest writing. It is my way of sharing a view of the Atonement and the Savior. It is parable that has strong symbolism. I wanted to write something that could convey some of my feelings. After working on this, I have come to the realization that I will probably never find the words to say what I feel and the absolute knowledge I have that Jesus is the Christ, our Redeemer, Friend, and Advocate.

The Parable

Cloud Shapes and Ice Cream Cones

When I was a little girl my eyes would light up and a big grin would spread across my face whenever I could find shapes in the clouds. Ice cream cones could do the trick too. It never took much to make me smile. But as I got older it seemed I never smiled.

It took me a while to come back to the truth - joy is found in the little things. No amount of "big" experiences would make up for the little joys in life. I realized I was not grateful for those little things. I guess I started to equate joy with having a family and to me, "family" was defined by children. Somehow I convinced myself that joy in the little things could only be found through the eyes of my children.

One day, while driving cross country, my heart just began to swell with wonder and amazement as I watched the landscape around me change from desert to mountain to green and lush valleys. I thought about all the changes on this earth that I have seen and I wondered if I were really as thankful for things as I ought to be.

That idea sparked more and more gratitude within me. I started noticing more around me that I had forgotten about. My smile came back and the twinkle returned to my eyes. There are so many beautiful things that are free to enjoy and all we need do is open our senses. There are amazing smells, breath-taking sights, and soul healing sounds all around us every single day. We must open ourselves to the experience and then enjoy it as it enters our consciousness and fills the emptiness within.

As I came to this understanding, the idea of never being a mother was not so heartbreaking anymore. I have found, rather than it being a time of sorrow and hardship, it is a time for me to prepare for what comes next. I know I will, one day, be a mother. What a joy it is that I get this time to prepare for that. I get to learn from those around me, and help those I can.

There are hundreds of children in my life. Each one is so precious and has settled into my heart. Some have grown up and have children of their own now, others are still infants. There are also those who, no matter how much they grow, I still see them at age 1 or 2 (sorry Calvin) with their cute little faces and adorable laughs. Their voices change, and their bodies grow, but when I look at them I can't help but see the little child I knew. (I feel kind of like that commercial where the dad is looking at his daughter as she asks to borrow the car and then his son is leaving for work.)

Joy in others' children is not quite the same, I imagine, as joy in my own children. But that is the joy I have been given for now. So I will relish it and glory in it and find the peace that comes from loving those I have rather than mourning those I do not. There is joy in the moment that can heal the hearts of those yearning for children of their own, if they want their hearts to be healed.

My husband is finding healing now as he works as a nanny and gets the joy of loving someone's baby and the little girls who climb on his lap and snuggle into his arms. At first it was too much to deal with, but now he is finding the joy and healing that comes from giving love to children.

As for me, my heart has healed. It took more than I thought it would to heal me, and far less than the price I should have paid for it. There is nothing more amazing than a gift received when it was most needed, even if I did not know it was needed until I received it.