Time Heals All Wounds?

I woke up very early this Sunday a.m.  We now go to meetings at 9:00 a.m., so with yesterday being New Years Day, I did not prepare my Strengthening Family lesson until this morning before church.  I awoke long before the alarm, probably close to 4 a.m.  There in the dark my mind replayed, almost in panorama, the last decade of the most major of tribulations we have experienced.  I am a naturally positive optimistic person.  I do not work at it, it is just there, deep in my soul, I am happy with a smile on my face.  I was born with it.  So it was extremely unusual for me to experience scene after scene of harder times of the last ten years.  First, to my mind came the vivid pictures of my our nephew Bruce Cluff's death.  I loved him as a son.  I tended him when he was little as he and my daughter Cori Ann became the closest of friends.  He was in and out of our home constantly, lived with us before his mission, and lived with us again after until he was settled in college.  When he was a father of two, with one on the way, his military plane crashed in Columbia.  We housed his siblings during the two weeks he was missing.  It was an ordeal I never want to repeat.  I still think of him often and miss him terribly.  Next to my mind came the sale of our drilling business to a person we trusted.  Walt gave him every advantage financially to help him get a good start.  We soon found ourselves in a betrayal. Without our knowledge, this person turned quickly around selling the business for double the amount to a another man who had also wanted the business from us.  Walt had honored the first person because of a handshake to keep his word. Our buyer did not disclose to his quick- sale party the terms of our agreement to settle tax liability, pay off supply expense incurred on a drilling job that he received payment for, and drill a well on our property on Cedar Mountain.   Our accountant firm, who had drawn up the contracts and had been present at every negotiation, offered their lawyers free of charge to prosecute this dishonorable person citing numerous breach of contract.  However, after much prayer, Walt decided against it and I honored my husband's decision.   Next my mind relived the excitement of our daughter's mission call.  We were thrilled, she was our first missionary.  She had several emergency admittances regarding asthma and allergy.  She had been ill at times, but still loved her mission.  Several months passed when we received a call from her mission president.  Due to the more strict medical guidelines, she was asked to go home.  She had refused to return, so in a tearful phone call, after prayerful council, we said come home.  Our broken hearted faithful daughter came home from a treasured beloved mission.  My mind replayed when Walt was involved in a accident where his hand and arm were seriously burned.  He had to go to the burn unit to have the area scrapped several times a week for a long period of time.  My mind went to some trying times when a couple of our children had marital challenges.  My sister, whom I am close to, suffered a massive stroke losing use of an arm,  leg, and fluid speech,  even though she is only in her forties.  This greatly affected me. Next in my panarama came the termination of my contract with the Southwest Utah Health Department due to budget cutbacks.  Over an eight year period of time, I had built two programs.  I handed them over to two people still in their twenties who would  "work them into" their already busy schedule.   My mind then went to this unprecedented economical crash, our future retirement depending on rent of two commercial buildings. One now sitting empty due to  the tenant going out of business, the other having to lower the rent to the point that it hardly pays the expenses to keep our real estate investments.    We are now at the age we projected for an early retirement, but my husband is running his water pump installation and repair. There are fewer clients nor  are there business  buyers whom we planned on selling to by this point of time.  After this panorama was complete, it came to me how we had gone through all of it with calm and peace.   As my mind's eye looked at each tribulation packaged into a decade, and I don't think I had ever viewed them in such a context nor dwelled on them,  I realized there was a silver thread that ran through every experience.  I could see with each tribulation, Walt and I had been been wounded, a jagged tear, a gaping hole.  I saw clearly that the wounds had been cleansed with the blood of Jesus Christ then sewn up with the threads of the atonement.  Through this last decade, we have experienced peace, love,  joy,  long suffering, and hope.  Our faith and testimony is stronger now than ten years ago.    I had someone say to me once that time heals all wounds.  Perhaps, but time's healing can leave a jagged scar.   Through the application of faith, I have found that the Savior heals all wounds,  but His healing leaves no scar and in place of a wound, gratitude.

This, That, and a Tiny Miracle

I am pretty much done with Christmas preparation.  Our family dispensed with buying for one another, so we could all help a family who has not been able to work due to back surgery.  This decision made for a very stress free December.  No worry on what to give or buy for the adults.  My arm can now move forward, back, and a little sideways.  Therefore, I was able to make an apron for Kim's b-day, and paint a couple of snowman ornaments.  I made two, one for my friend Wendy and the other to hang on my own tree.  The ornament is of snowman couple, a snow scene, the year, and names of Walt and Penny.  On the back I wrote, Two Hearts Melting Into One.  They turned out very well, but due to their round shape pictures distort them, so I did not attempt to post a picture. 
Now for my little miracle.  I have tried  recently to be more specific in my prayers.  I asked this morning that I would be used as an instrument to help someone come closer to Him.  Short, to the point, a simple here I am.  I went to a Kitchen Center that has a great selection of storage, mixers, etc.  When I was looking at the aprons, I was standing by a lady that said while she was looking at them, "I just sent one to my niece."  We struck up a conversation and then I notice the store had put in a little soup and sandwhich cafe.  She told me the soup was great as I went to look at the selection.  As we were deciding what to have, I complimented a lady in front of us in line that was in total Christmas attire.  Red and green all over her, she looked like an elf.  After paying for my soup, I asked the "apron" lady if she would like to join me.  I  can't recall in my life ever having asked a stranger to join me for much of anything.  She said she would like to as she was alone that day.  We found a table and that is when I noticed the "elf" lady sitting alone not too far from us.  I asked if she would like to join us too.  She told us she "didn't want to interrupt us", but we both reassured her she would not, so joined us also.  She later told us that she thought we were friends the way we were communicating with each other.  She was happy to have the company.  So there we were three former strangers, now Pam, Gloria, and Penny.  We talked for about 45 minutes as we ate an amazing squash soup.   Gloria asked us if we had been to that cool store called Deseret Book and Mormon Handicraft.  She said the store was like walking into heaven, people so friendly and helpful, "such a great feeling in there".  She had moved here from Washington DC where she had recently retired from being a budget analyst for the military.  She said she did not know why she had come to St. George, it just "kind of happened".  Why were you in Deseret Book?  She then said she had an interest in genealogy and someone had told her there was info there.   Where do you live?  She then explained she was about two blocks from the temple.  Pam, the elf lady, turned out to be a nonmember also.  By the end of the hour, both women had given me their names and contact information.  What an experience!  I will submit their names for missionary work as soon as possible.  When we parted, I felt like I had said goodbye to two old friends.  Maybe they were ....a long long time ago.

Two Pure Joy Moments

After a month of hurt with my arm, I have experienced a hectic but fun Thanksgiving, several weeks of  ball games for grandson's Brad, Morgan, and Logan, and last but not least, ornament- making family home evening last night with unexpected attendance of Jessi, Cody, and Emma from Provo.   All wonderful, but I was exhausted this morning.   I took time for a short thank- you -prayer and asked to feel joy today.   After cleaning the house and gathering lost and founds, I decided to return Nati's jacket on my way to run errands.  No one was home and she asked me to just go in and leave it.  After placing it on her sofa, her beautiful tree caught my attention so I went over to see if the ornaments from last night were on her tree yet.  I soon found myself studying many ornaments from years past, most made at my home.  Brad and Morgan's name and year carefully recorded on the back.  Then I noticed older handmade ornaments Nati had made when she was a child.  She had carefully placed them at the top of the tree, some made of clay, some of wood, some of fabric.  In my minds eye, I was once again sitting with my little ones around the kitchen table, no care for perfection, but just simply guiding them as they did their best to make an ornament they would display with pride.  Little did I know back then I was starting a tradition that would stretch into the next generation.    Then it came, an unexpected saturating indescribable feeling of pure joy.  Then on my way to a fabric store, a lady caught my eye.  She was limping, but with a good arm carrying a small bag of groceries.  As I got closer, I saw she was holding the other arm in front of her, the fingers curled, her wrinkle-free face pulled lower on one side.  She was a young stroke victim obviously on her way to the low-income apartments that are behind the grocery store.  I immediately thought of my sister Robin, she having experienced a stroke only in her forties.  I was suddenly struck with the contrast.  My sister lives in a beautiful one level home that she can navigate well even since her stroke.  Even with limited use of an arm and leg, she has taught herself to drive her car again.   I thought about how blessed she has been to have a daughter living right next door, the rest of her family within close proximity, and a son and son-in-laws to help if she needs it.  Then  it came, the saturation of pure joy in my whole being for the blessings my sister has been given.  My simple heavenly request to feel joy today had been granted not once but twice.

Our Geneology Rexburg Trip

Robin and I with Elmer Park, our Mother's youngest and only living sybling

It snowed and hailed.  I was still cold in my down coat even with a warm hug.

My sister Robin and I left for Rexburg Idaho to visit with our mother's brother Elmer and her nieces.  Our purpose was to renew friendships and gather genealogy.  We arrived after dark on October 25 and as we came in on the freeway there it was.  The Rexburg temple shining brightly on the hill.  It was spectacular.  We met Uncle Elmer Park and his wife Merlene the next morning for a temple session.  Robin had not attended yet as I had the summer it opened.  It was humbling to see this manifestation of the prophesies out great grandparents had heard many years ago...that a temple of the Lord would one day be on that hill.  When the times were hard for the early Saints, general authority traveled from Salt Lake to bring hope to the discouraged saints.  The elements were "tempered" in the name of the Lord and it was promised that there would one day be  productive farms, a house of learning, and a temple.  These promises were shared with the pioneers from a wagon box.  One such account is shared in our Arnold history.  The saints sat on the floor joists of our great great grandfather's house listening to the hopeful messages shared that week.  They are now known as the Wagon Box Prophecies.  

 Elmer and Merlene work in the temple and they took us on a tour, followed by a dinner in Rigby, and a warm visit at their home during a bitter cold day.  Robin and I took pictures of our parent's homes and took flowers, provided by Elmer, to our parents graves.  The next day we met with our Aunt Ruth"s (our mother's sister) daughters Becky, Sandy, and Cheryl.  We went to dinner with them, and after having a wonderful visit with them, returned to Becky's to copy genealogy.  Becky has been gathering life histories and records for over 30 years.  We copied hundreds and hundreds of pages.  She is an amazing women.  She is and has been a blessing to the entire Park family.  Her sacrifice of time, money, and talent serves as a example for all of us.She is suffering from cancer, so we were amazed at her physical stamina while we took many hours to copy what she had so painstakingly gathered.  When I was on my way back to Utah, I called to thank her once again.  She told me that she too was amazed at the physical well being she had while we were there.  She had not experienced such good days for a long time.  She said she felt strongly that our ancestors had helped her because they wanted us to have the information.  After I returned my sweet sister back home I spent my last night at my brother Tim's house  before I left for home.  I was exhausted and my right arm was starting to really hurt me.  I had a fitful sleep, but  I awoke with the realization that I now had in my possession two hundred years of family history.  With that thought , I realized I  was humming the song from the movie Titanic...a song by Celine Dion.  The words in my head were "Far across the distance and spaces between us, you have come to show you go on. ...Once more you open the door.... and I know that your heart goes on."  The song stayed in my head for a few days.  Maybe it was a spiritual experience or triggered by pictures of great grandmothers in their big turn-- of-- the- century hats. It seemed very sweet to me.

Our Aunt Ruth Harris' daughters.  L to R Sandy, me, Becky, and Cheryl

Robin with cousins

Robin and I in Becky's living room

Oregon Trip Pictures & the Traveling Tuna

When I posted about our Oregon trip in September, my camera programs were not working with our new computer program.  I wanted to get a few visual memories of Walt, Tim, and Steve's tuna fishing trip and a few of the rest of us hanging out on the coast.  Right after they caught the tuna,  Steve had it frozen in Oregon, Tim then had his trucking friend bring it from Oregon to Boise, then Tim loaded up my cooler for it's trip to my house in Washington Utah after I returned from visiting Robin and attending Brent's homecoming.  I am referring to it as the traveling tuna.  Walt and I had some the other day and it was delicious.  I am going to can the rest eventually.

Steve looks like the Captain of his ship in this pic...complete control.

It has always made me happy that my Walt enjoys my brothers as much as I do.

Walt told me tuna were bloody.  I had no idea until I saw the pics.

Of course, A highlight for me was enjoying time with my sisters Robin, Ginny, and Sharon.  We went to a flea market while the men waited in the parking lot.  We were just going to be a minute....oh, yeah.   I think the pictures say it all.  We were not in too much of a hurry.



MY BEAUTIFUL SISTERS WITH BEAUTIFUL BERRIES.






The old duffers of the bunch (however, we were not the ones taking the elevator, ha, ha)

Five of my favorite people.

Pain is a Four Letter Word

After seeing the results of my bother Tim, his wife Ginny,  my niece Rebecca, and then a lady at the community center who had hired personal trainers, I was inspired and motivated to do the same and hopefully have a great experience like they did.   I had started resistance training with a official trainer several weeks before.  She had noticed my lack of "range of motion" on my right and explained that she would get it back and gave me a series of exercises to do,  but it went from lack of range to me wincing....but "just keep it up", she shared.    She showed me how to do pilates while I was gone to Idaho, which I did, but I noticed my range was getting smaller and now my shoulder was tender to touch.After a marathon visit to sister Robin's house, loading her stuff and  then the two of us going on to Rexburg, gathering massive amounts of genealogy, getting her back home, then pushing hard to get back home by Halloween night. By Monday night, I could not lift my arm, even an inch, without wanting to share a high pitched scream.  I could not sleep, or let it hang at my side without pain.  I tossed and turned so much that Walt had to move into the other bedroom at night.  When it became obvious it was not going to heal on its own, I went to a doctor.  After moving it forward, scream, scream, then back, scream, scream.  He said, " You have bone spurs, calcium deposits, in your should and tendon.  Nothing you can do now except have a long and painful recovery.  Scar tissue has to form over the ends then you will begin to get relief."  What?I thought.  First of all you haven't even looked at an xray and I know that some magic physical therapy will fix this.  He gave me steroids and a percocet a powerful pain pill.  I am not a pill taker, but I was very happy to get them, and had them down as soon as I could.  They barely took the edge off.  I did not sleep for most of five straight days.After the x-ray results from the radiologist came back, here is what the doctor told me.  "You have bone spurs and a dense calcium deposit in your shoulder and tendon."  He had it absolutely diagnosed before the xray.  I am such a skeptic when it comes to medical.  The extra exertion on the muscle had inflamed it causing it to irritate the tissue near the calcium deposits.  I think spur is a good word for them.  Just dawned on me spur is a four letter word too, like dragging skin backward on barbwire fence.  The perfect visual for what  I have been feeling.  So here I am,  a list of stuff I can't think of doing, Can't drive, can't read, (too fuzzy), can't sleep well, can't get dressed, Walt has to do it all, can't cook, can't, write, just barely can do key board with one hand, can't can't can't.  This healing will most likely last during the holidays.  Poor me, poor little Penny. Then yesterday during my drug induced feel sorry for myself hours, I had a revelation.   WHAT A SELF ABSORBED IDIOT I AM!  MY SISTER ROBIN HAS TO ENDURE THIS EVERY MOMENT OF HER LIFE.  She might not have the pain, but she cannot use her right arm at all.  Now add to that a disability walking.  I thought I had empathy before but now I have had a healthy dose of reality check.  She is absolutely one of the most amazing women I have ever known.  She has carried her affliction with grace and dignity.  She is and always will be an inspirational example to all who know her. As for me, what I am going through is nothing and I know that there is an end in sight.  I need to remember that just because I am in pain I don't have to be one.

Sixty-Three and Still Me

I turned 63 years old in September.  I am 63 and still me.  When I was younger, I thought by this time I would be so much more, but I am still me.  I still struggle with the same things, find happiness in the same things, truly love most of the same people, plus a few more I have been blessed to receive along the way.  I have out lived my father by 7 years and the age my mother was when she passed is fast approaching.   I cannot even see the word "slow down" on my radar screen, let alone actually initiate it.  There are a few speed bumps now days.  One speed bump recently was my trip into our bedroom closet to get my glasses, I came out with Walt's dirty pants, and while putting them in the laundry to soak realized when I could not see the stains,  I had gone into the bedroom to get my glasses, so I could write something on the calendar.  Okay, that's about three speed bumps, but I think I used to do that same kind of thing in my multi-tasking 40's.   One thing that has changed a lot, other than that image looking back at me in the mirror, is my wisdom.  I have accumulated much more of it through the years.  I have found that there really are things that simply do not matter....not one bit.  What does not matter, simply put is STUFF.    Looking back on my own grandmothers, I realize that they reached  that point too.  Grandma Park never changed her furniture, a picture on the wall, or so much as a flower pot, while I knew her.  She wore her aprons over her dresses (I never saw her in a pair of pants), used the same hair product, (a slime Mother or her sister's put in her curls), or ever asked anything to be changed.  I remember Mother reached a point where she did not want to be "bothered" with the Christmas tree.  She would remove a garbage bag from her stored small fake tree and that was her total Christmas celebration decor.  I thought that was so strange, now I think how intelligent.  Perhaps one day that image looking back at me in the mirror, if I am still occasionally looking, will be back to my 1965 hairdo wearing 1950's bright orange polka dot blouse with  1970's purple bell bottom pants.  Oh, and beads, tons of beads.  Hopefully, I will still have my hubby saying, "Honey, you haven't changed a bit".