What the 15th anniversary of the September 11th attack meant to me.

                It was in many ways, just like any normal Sunday.  I had gone to BYC at 11, come home and made the announcement sheet for the Young Women, packed my Sunday bag and was back at the church 10 minutes to 1:00 in order to sit for a few minutes and prepare to take the Sacrament.  The problem was, I was very far from feeling normal.  I hope you will forgive me if I am being too personal. I have some very difficult issues with anxiety and depression, specifically I am one of the many women who experience Pre-menstrual Syndrome.  There are moments when I can feel the anxiety in my chest, as though I were on top of a roller coaster ready to plunge straight down.  There are moments when I am very sad and I cannot pinpoint a reason as to why.  One thing that happens to me frequently during the cycle is that I feel as though I am failing in every aspect of my life and have disappointed everyone in my life and feel a desperate need to apologize.  Anyway, I was feeling all those things as I sat down at church.  Just five minutes before I had been pleading with the Lord to help me.  There was a part of me that didn’t want to go to church today.  I just wanted to stay home.  But you know one of the main reasons why I go to church? Because it works.  It’s as simple as that.  Even in the midst of my anxiety and depression, I knew that I could go to church and hear some message that would help me.  Even as I felt the anxiety get so bad just before the meeting started that I wanted to bolt, I stayed.  As the meeting continued, I continued to pray for help, for something to happen that would restore my inner center, my sense of balance, and about half-way through the meeting, something did.

                

               In all my inner struggles, I had almost forgotten what day it was.  When the intermediate hymn was announced as “My Country Tis of Thee” I was a tad confused but then I remembered and as we stood to sing, something extraordinary happened to me.  I thought about where I was on that day 15 years ago.  I thought about the instant kinship I felt with the victims and their families as I watched TV, horrified.  We were all brothers and sisters that day.  “Let music swell the breeze, and ring from all the trees, sweet freedom’s song. Let mortal tongues awake; Let all that breathe partake.  Let rocks their silence break. The sound prolong!” As I sang, I felt a new strength steadying me.  I thought of the strength that shone through that darkest of days. I thought of the last words of love expressed to family members, of the policemen, firemen and other heroes whose heroism will never be forgotten, of the people on the other plane who decided that they would take a stand against evil and lose their own lives in the process.  That strength is part of our heritage as Americans and members of the human race.  It binds us together, and helps us find courage in our own inner battles.  That is what this day means to me.  That is what we can never forget.  I never knew any of the people who died that day.   But I love them and one day I hope to thank them for their legacy of faith and strength. 

                

               “Our fathers’ God to thee, Author of liberty, to thee we sing; Long may our land be bright.  With freedom’s holy light. Protect us by thy might, Great God our king.” I close the hymn book and sit back down. There are tears in my eyes…but I can breathe now. 

 

Picture from picsgroup.com

Home Part 1

Friday night I drove out to Catherine Creek state park to see my aunt and her friends who were camping there.  It is a lovely drive, one I know well as it was the road I drove many times on my way to Girl’s Camp.  I spent some time with my sweet BFF auntie and her cute friends and as I was leaving, one of her friends suggested that they say a prayer for my safe return back to La Grande tonight and back to Smithfield in a few days.  Her prayer in and of itself was worth the entire drive.  She prayed for my safety and I could feel the love in her voice. She gave thanks that God had brought me safely home to La Grande again.  She gave thanks He had given me the gift of keeping La Grande as home and prayed that I might know that wherever I go, I can always keep La Grande in my heart as home. 

As I drove back in the dusky twilight and saw the lights flickering across the valley, I thought about when we first came to La Grande, 22 years ago.  I was heartbroken to leave Utah at 15 and move here.  I prayed and prayed for months that we wouldn’t have to go. As I told my ladies in Relief Society this past week, thank goodness God didn’t answer that prayer the way I wanted.  Looking back I don’t know exactly when I came to define this place as home, more so than any other place I had ever lived.  I only know that somehow along the way I grew roots so deep here that they still thrive, even though I haven’t lived here in 12 years.  Sometimes I wonder what it is about this place that has such a hold on me.  Is it simple nostalgia? Am I living in the past? I have had several people who love me and know me well wonder that over the years.  I definitely am one for looking back instead of forward.  I do enjoy driving past my old house, the high school and the seminary building.  But while I do see in my mind’s eye ghosts of myself and my siblings all around; that is all they are…friendly ghosts who bring with them happy memories but no other connection.  My life here was wonderful but that chapter in my family’s history is done. 

So what is it? Is it the sheer beauty of the town? I look out the window and see Mt. Emily standing tall and beautiful and looking as though she is there to protect the valley below her, the endless sea of green pine trees, the red and yellow trains weaving around the landscape and filling the air with soothing train whistles. Is it the beauty? Yes, I think that is part of it.  Is it the familiarity and sameness of La Grande that I love so much? I know this place so well.  I know that when I drive down Island Avenue, I am going to roll down the window (yes, even in the winter) because I will smell the woodsy scent of the mill.  I know that when I go to “Celebrate La Grande” Al Macloed’s jazz band will play music that will set my toes tapping.  Dad calls La Grande Brigadoon.  I love that about it.  Yes, things change as they always do. Favorite teachers retire. Special little shops go out of business.  Dear friends move or pass away but La Grande is as rich in treasured traditions as it is in pine trees.  Is it the people here that bind me to this place? My aunt who makes every day a holiday, my sweet cousin, the best friends who know me so well they finish my sentences, the ward members who fasted and prayed for me while I was on my mission, people who have believed in me and loved me for over half my life. Yes, the people…my people…are a big part of it. 

  

  But there is still something more that makes my eyes light up when I talk about La Grande, something deeper that happens to me every time I drive around the corner of Ladd Canyon and see my beautiful valley.  My aunt was right to thank God for the gift of being able to keep La Grande in my heart as home.  From the first day, even though I didn’t know it at the time, La Grande has been a wonderful gift, all of it.  It was a gift to that a little too tall and a little too dramatic 15 year old who had struggled most of her school life to fit in.  It has been a gift to the woman who has dealt with anxiety of losing what she loves since she was six years old.  I know there is such a thing as constants in my life.  I know there is such a thing as safe harbors.  And just like Frodo Baggins and his beloved shire, if there ever came a day when I couldn’t ever come back, I “shall know that there is a firm foothold even if my feet cannot stand there again.”

People ask me some times why I don’t just move back.  Someday I might.  But the truth is, it doesn’t really matter because no matter what happens, I do get to keep La Grande in my heart as home for as long as I need/want to.  Today, I will probably shed a few tears as I drive back into Ladd Canyon and leave.  But I know my other home, my other safe dock, waits on the other side for me, with my wonderful parents, friends, team BSA, and the best calling ever. 

As I drive today I think I will listen to Phillip Phillip’s “Home” song.  I think maybe this was what God was trying to tell me all those years ago.

Settle down, it will all be clear.

Don’t pay no mind to the demons. They fill you with fear.

Though trouble it might drag you down, if you get lost you can always be found.

Just know you’re not alone…

Cause I’m gonna make this place your home. 

The parable of the red and white fair ribbons, a life-changing lesson in pride.

                It was county fair time this past week, one of the most magical times of the year for me.  I love it all! I love the lights and bells and whistles of the rides, the cotton candy and kettle corn scent in the air, the music from the live bans, and I love entering things into the fair to compete for a ribbon.  I always say that finding a blue ribbon next to your name at the fair feels to me a little like what I imagine finding a golden ticket in a Willy Wonka chocolate bar would be like.   I always get so excited.  This year, I decided to try something challenging, homemade croissant rolls. It was a two day process and during making them I smiled thinking about another blue ribbon to put on my wall.  Then I thought it would be really fun to make something additional to try for another blue ribbon.  I made some fudgy butterscotch brownies and Tuesday morning, I entered my stuff into the fair.  The croissants hadn’t turned out as well as I had wanted, but Thursday morning when the fair opened, I still hoped that I would have two blue ribbons to add to my collection.  But when I entered the home arts building and looked for my entries, there was no blue.  My brownies received a 2^nd place red ribbon and the croissants were a 3^rd place white.  My four year blue ribbon winning streak had come to end. I was pretty disappointed but then my inner critic kicked in.  I started cataloging all my mistakes and felt embarrassed for even trying.  I walked back to the car thinking that I wouldn’t enter the fair any more.  Yeah, I was being pretty childish.  I didn’t want to come back and pick up my ribbons on Monday after the fair closed.  I didn’t want them.   But today I went and got them because I want them very much.  It turns out I was about learn a master class lesson in pride.  Do blue ribbons matter in the long term? No, but this lesson was life-changing. 

                 

              It started when I was at work.  I was in the middle of filing some papers when suddenly a phrase came to my mind, “It is the comparison that makes you proud.” It was a line I had heard before, from Ezra Taft Benson’s masterful talk “Beware of Pride.” I had always understood it to mean that you were prideful when you were comparing yourself to others, imagining yourself to be better than others.  Suddenly I understood that principle in a whole new light.  It was pride in me that was comparing my results this year with the years passed and pride that was condemning my efforts this year because the results were less than perfect.  And it was pride in me as I looked at myself as a new trainee on a difficult new job and unfairly compared myself to how I could be if I knew all there was to know about the job.  It is pride that compares myself during times when I am weak to times when I am stronger.  It was a fascinating revelation.  I know it was revelation from the Spirit because when I feel revelation from the Spirit about ways I can be better I feel hopeful and not condemned.   I know that with the Savior’s help, I can change.

                

                     If that was not enough, I was driving home the next day from work when another impression filled my mind.  “In order to be humble, you must be teachable.” Again, it was nothing I hadn’t heard before but I came to understand it so much more during that drive.  I could literally feel the proverbial “light bulb” coming on! It was amazing! I thought of my croissants and how I had studied that Martha Stewart magazine article before I made them but I had expected them to come out perfect the very first time.  I had expected them to be like Martha’s.  But what I had forgotten was that Martha herself probably had years of trial and error croissants before hitting on the perfect recipe.  How could I possibly be teachable and learn from my mistakes if I expected everything I cooked to be perfect the first time? How can I possibly be teachable and learn from my mistakes if I expected everything I did in life to be perfect the first time? I love what Thomas Edison said when asked if he was discouraged after “failing” so many times with his inventions and hadn’t received many results: “Results? Why man, I have gotten many results! If I find 10,000 ways something won’t work, I haven’t failed. I am not discouraged because every wrong attempt discarded is often a step forward.”  As I drove home that day, I thought about a lesson I learned several years ago when I was going through probably the most difficult time of my entire life.  I was getting ready for church one day and I was praying “Heavenly Father, I just want to do the right thing.  I really just want to do the right thing.” Suddenly I felt a very distinct answer.  “That’s not entirely true.  You don’t want to make any mistakes, and there is a difference.”  In order to be teachable, we have to know that mistakes are a vital part of the learning process, whether you are making croissants, inventing something that will change the world, or striving to become what Heavenly Father wants you to become. 

                  
                 So I went and picked up my ribbons because I wanted them very much.  They are a reminder that I should never stop trying, never stop taking risks even though the results may not be what I had hoped for.  They are a reminder that effort, even if it is less than perfect, is something to be celebrated.  They are a reminder that I am doing okay, even though I have many life lessons to learn and that I’ve still got lots of time to learn them. Isn’t it wonderful that we have so much help us overcome or weaknesses?! It’s amazing! I know that I can pray and overcome my issues with pride with the Savior’s help even though it may take a while. And it just so happens, I know of a pretty great “how-to” book on overcoming pride too! :) 

101 things in 1001 Days #15 Make croissants

Every since I saw the article about them in my Martha Stewart magazine I have wanted to try making croissants but all the rolling in the butter and folding intimidated me.  One of the blessings from doing this list is that I am more apt to give things a try.  A week ago I had the thought, "Wouldn't it be fun to enter croissants into the fair?" and just as I started to blow that thought off and come up with all the reasons why I couldn't, I thought "Go for it! Make croissants to enter into the fair!" There were many times when I thought it would be too hard, that I should just enter something more simple, but I kept going and felt a wonderful sense of accomplishment as I could smell that delicious bread baking smell!  They didn't turn out quite like I had imagined, they were a little dry.  I probably won't win the "Best of Show" ribbon I was hoping for, but I am so glad I tried.  I will keep on trying and figuring out what I can do better next time!

Here are the instructions!

http://www.marthastewart.com/312981/croissants

101 things in 1001 Days: #53 Invent a new fruit salad

I thought our ward's traditional Relief Society summer social would be a fun time to accomplish this goal.  I loved the activity tonight.  It is one of my favorite summer traditions.  We all sit and talk in the beautiful backyard of our Relief Society president.  Tonight we played a game where we had to come up with something that we didn't think anybody knew about us and then if somebody did know, we had to come up with another one.  It was a delightful evening and it was really fun bringing my new fruit salad!

Blueberry muffin fruit salad 

Ingredients 

A mixture of berries of your choice: I used 2 medium cartons of strawberries and one carton of strawberries but you can mix it up.  (It ain't a blueberry muffin fruit salad without the blueberries though!) 

About an 1/4 cup of Tillamook french vanilla yogurt 

2 drops of lemon oil (I used doTERRA) 

1 batch of streusal topping  

Wash berries and pat them dry.  Mix the berries all together.  Add a small amount  of yogurt at a time and stir into the fruit.  You only want to glaze the berries. Slowly add the 2 drops of lemon oil.  You just want a little hint of lemon flavor. Tonight I sprinkled the streusal topping on top of the salad just before serving but I think I like it a little bit better to just have a bowl sitting near the salad and people can sprinkle some streusal topping on their individual salad as they dish it up.  I think this helps the streusal to stay more crispy.  

Streusal topping 

1/2 cup sugar 

1 cup flour 

1/2 tsp kosher salt 

1 vanilla bean split (optional) 

4 tbls cold unsalted butter cut into pieces (if you use salted butter, omit the salt) 

1/2 tsp of cinnamon 

Preheat oven to 350.  Line baking sheet with parchment.  Stir together sugar, flour, cinnamon and salt. Split vanilla bean lengthwise and scrape seeds into the bowl.  Stir until distributed evenly.  Blend butter in using a pastry blender until the mix resembles gravel.  Dump mix onto prepared sheet.  Shake pan to spread it around and bake for 10 minutes.  Remove from oven and rake through the streusal with a fork.  Bake for another 8-10 minutes and rake again, moving any underdone streusal to the edge and vice versa.  Continue to bake or 5-7 min for until streusal  is nice and even deep gold.  

Hey! Don't judge me by the crumbs in my frosting! Wait, hold on a second, who exactly here is doing the judging?

 It’s pretty amazing the life lesson reminders you can receive while you’re baking! I was making cupcakes—chocolate ones with orange buttercream.  They were for a birthday celebration at my job and I needed to get them done that morning before I left for work.  I had baked the cupcakes the night before and they looked and smelled yummy and chocolatey.  The buttercream smelled divine after adding a little orange oil.  There was one problem, when I went to actually put the two together and frost the cupcakes, the tops of the cupcakes were coming off and there was a lot of crumbs in the frosting.  I put the cupcakes in the freezer for a while and then did a crumb coat which helped some but still I could see the brown crumbs in my beautiful orange frosting.  In the inner critic realm of my mind I could see my co-workers and new friends disapproving looks, and could imagine them thinking “Hmm…guess she doesn’t know how to bake as well as we thought.” Just as I was ready to toss the batch because of all the “judging” happening, that little inner voice I have come to know as the Holy Ghost said very quietly “That’s not them, that’s you.”

               

It was me who was looking at the cupcakes critically and it was me who was projecting that reaction onto my friends.  It seems so simple and yet I have done this so many times! That inner critic is tricky.  From crumbs in the frosting, to the state of cleanliness in our homes, to how we look, the inner critic can trick us into the thinking that our own inner judgmental thoughts are the judgmental thoughts of others.  When in reality, I think people are far less critical than we give them credit for.   Some of the biggest revelations of my life were finding out that people I perceived as being judgmental and critical of me were actually dealing with their own inner critic battles.  I am not saying that there is not a problem in the world with judging people unfairly.  What I am saying is that speaking for my own life, there have been so many times when I have thought people unkind because of the critical thoughts that were going on in my own head.  In that moment, the only one who was making unfair judgments was me, towards myself and towards the strangers, friends, and family who I thought were looking down on me. I don’t say that to put myself down.  I say it because it’s incredibly liberating.  It is incredibly liberating to know that you have a choice.  It is like the old Indian legend told by an Indian warrior to his grandson, that there are two wolves inside all of us, fighting for dominance.  “Which one will win?” asked the grandson.  “Whichever one I feed,” came the wise reply.   The inner critic is powerful but we still always have a choice whether we will feed it. We can choose not to listen.

                

And so I finished my cupcakes.  I learned a few things about how to avoid getting crumbs in your frosting for the next time. I took the cupcakes to work and sang happy birthday to my co-worker and felt glad about this gift of a talent I have in the kitchen and how it can make people happy.  The inner critic still comes, bringing with it fear of what other people are thinking about me.   And yet, each time it gets a little easier to hear that little reminder, “That’s not them, that’s you.” I remember that I have a choice.  I can choose not to listen.  I can remember that we are all just trying to do our best, cupcake crumbs and all. 

101 things in 1001 Days #75 Read the Discourses of President Hinckley

President Gordon B. Hinckley was such a force for good in my life while he was alive and it was wonderful to read so many of his marvelous talks.  He is the voice of optimism in my head and I could still hear his voice even as I read his words cheerfully saying to trust in the Lord and that everything would work out.  It was wonderful to read so many of his addresses to people in foreign countries and to see the love he had for them, particularly for those in Asia.  It was wonderful to read a talk he gave in Africa as he talked about the blessings of the temple and then at the end of the talk, announced that a temple was being built in those members’ land.  I loved the words he had for the youth and the missionaries.  Who can forget his “be-attitiudes” talk? It was wonderful to read the talk in which he says my personal theme for the 2016 year: You can be excellent in every way. You can be first class. There is no need for you to be a scrub. Respect yourself. Do not feel sorry for yourself. Do not dwell on unkind things others may say about you. Polish and refine whatever talents the Lord has given you. Go forward in life with a twinkle in your eye and a smile on your face, but with great and strong purpose in your heart. Love life and look for its opportunities.

I love this great man of God and hope to one day thank him for all the good he did me.  I know he was a prophet of God and that he is doing a great work on the other side!