It Truly Is The Little Things That Matter

The past couple of weeks as I've tried to keep up with life (is it me, or do things seem to get crazier as the years go by?) I've found that I often have to pick and choose between good items. At the end of the day I sometimes ponder how effective I've been in accomplishing goals. There are moments when I concede that perhaps I wasn't as organized or efficient as I could've been.

From time to time I'm asked by varying individuals if I plan to write future novels. I never know quite what to say. I have started three new manuscripts, all very different stories--but my life has changed in recent years and I don't always have the time I used to spend on manuscripts. That may seem odd to some, since at the height of my writing career, I was a busy mother of three growing sons.

I loved being a stay-at-home-mom, and was always grateful that I could help provide a few extras (like braces, trips, sports equipment, etc.) for our family with something I could do at home . . . for the most part. Some of our family trips were planned around book-signings. This gave us a chance to travel and see new places. One summer we made arrangements to fly to California and take our clan to Sea World. I had been asked to do a book-signing in Las Vegas, and we figured we would combine these adventures into one trip. As we were making plans, I received a very strong impression that we needed to invite my mother to go with us. So we did, and we had a great time together. I didn't know it then, but that trip fulfilled two of my mother's life-long dreams: she had always wanted to fly, and to see the ocean. How grateful I am that we were able to make those things happen before her health took a downward spiral.

There are other treasured memories--like the readers I have met, and the author friendships that developed along the way. And once in a while, experiences took place that touched my heart forever. An example: I received a phone call one morning from a woman who lived in another state. She wanted me to know that one of my books had given her granddaughter the courage to turn her life around for the better. I was overwhelmed by the story she shared that day. It has always been my desire to write books that might make a small difference in this troubled world. I'm not sure I've always succeeded, but I have tried. Since I have written primarily for the teen market, I've always felt a great responsibility to share uplifting messages and story-lines that teach the importance of making good choices.

Another afternoon as I sat twiddling my thumbs at a very slow book-signing in southern Utah, an older woman walked into the store. She wandered around for several minutes, then approached me. She explained that she had been praying and fasting that day for a troubled granddaughter, and had received an impression to come to this LDS bookstore. As she had walked around, she felt like she needed to talk to me. We were both in tears as she finished her story. She bought one of my books and left, hopeful that something on those pages would touch her granddaughter's heart. I spent the rest of that afternoon offering a similar prayer.

I could probably fill a book with experiences like these that motivated me to continue writing. It was not always an easy thing--balancing the writing world with other responsibilities--and the health challenges I face on a daily basis. (Type 1 diabetes & rheumatoid arthritis.) And there were some aspects that I didn't care for too much. I loved meeting up with author friends on occasion, but I often felt out of place at the lavish events that were sometimes held by our publishing company and others like it. I suppose it's because I will always be a shy, country girl at heart.

One year as our family was traveling to Utah for a fancy banquet, a rare tornado touched down in the heart of Salt Lake City. (August 11, 1999) We were on the freeway at the time it happened, and narrowly avoided an accident with several other cars that had slammed on their brakes. We exited the freeway as soon as possible, and drove to my mother's house in nearby Clinton where we received word that the banquet had been cancelled. So we spent the night at my mother's house, ordered pizza, and watched funny movies. In short, we spent a relaxing evening with loved ones and enjoyed it very much.

I'm convinced when this life of mine is through, I will not be asked how many books I wrote or managed to get published. Instead, I believe that what will matter most are the acts of service and love that were rendered on behalf of family, friends, and those in need. It won't be awards or worldly acclaim that will count for much--but how I treated others, and how I used my talents to help those around me.

One of my favorite scriptures is found in the Doctrine and Covenants: "Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great."  (D. & C. 64:33) In other words, it is the simple acts of kindness and service that will help to change this world into a better place. It is the hours spent helping others, raising families, teaching children, serving in our callings and in worthwhile causes in our communities that will make important differences. So on days when you are feeling like you're not accomplishing much in the way of greatness, consider the scripture I just shared, and realize, as I have to do on occasion, that what is valued on a worldly scale, differs greatly from what is most important in the eyes of our Father in heaven. It truly is the little things that matter.

A New Page

I suspect I'm a visual type of person. Images tend to stay with me longer than most things. Possessing a vivid imagination helps with that, I'm sure. ;) As a child, I used to lie on my back and watch the clouds as they passed overhead, loving the shapes I was certain were created for my enjoyment. Later on, I appreciated all that my father did to help me learn to use my first camera--a way for me to capture some of the images that stood out to me. He even went so far as to teach a 4-H photography class for my benefit. I've been fascinated with cameras ever since--something my family and friends tolerate . . . most of the time.

Books were another item that I savored. (I still do, actually . . . but I digress . . . . ) As I devoured page after page, I could envision clearly the descriptions made by each author. Books quickly became my best friends and I spent hours enjoying these treasured tomes. Sometimes I tried to re-enact items that I had read. This did not always end well--like the summer I tried to make my own jerky, after reading a book about a child who learned to live on his own in the wilderness. (My Side of the Mountain, by Jean Craighead George.) My mother is still amazed I didn't give myself a good case of botulism. But that is a story for another day . . .

As most people do, I tend to associate icons or images with different times of the year. There are the traditional holiday images: hearts for Valentine's Day, colorful eggs for Easter, flags for the 4th of July, etc. and so forth. At the start of each new year, I envision a blank page.

For me, the beginning of a new year signals a fresh start--a chance to begin things anew. I'm usually a tiny bit sad after putting away all of my Christmas treasures, since Christmas is my favorite time of year, but that feeling is quickly replaced by excited anticipation of what lies ahead. As everything is put away and tidied up after the holiday season, it truly feels like a clean new page is just waiting for me to begin telling my story again. It's totally up to me to determine what kind of tale this new year will be. True, there are circumstances that tend to sway that opinion, like deaths of loved ones, weddings, births, health glitches, etc. but bottom line, how I choose to react to these events will have an impact on how the year progresses.

It helps to keep a journal, to keep track of the adventures that take place. I will confess that some years I do better in this department than during others. This past year is an example of a time that was in part, too painful to share on paper. And yet, as I think about all that took place, I realize that I did manage to take pictures that document all that happened. Perhaps I will put together a collection of these pictures as a visual journal of the highs and lows of 2013. =) Something to think about.

Regardless, 2014 now lies before me, beckoning for me to move ahead, to place my images and words on a fresh page of life. And to me, that is the greatest adventure of all.

The Best Christmas Gift

As Christmas approaches, I find myself thinking about last year. I was still recovering from a minor heart procedure, too weak to attempt many of the traditional items that I normally tackle each December. That may be why my children and grandchildren decided to set up the Christmas tree for me. I sat comfortably on the couch and watched as our artificial tree was pieced together, the ornaments were located, and the boxes opened for my grandchildren to explore. At the tender ages of four and one and a half, these precious children smiled with joy at the discovery of each ornament. Carefully they placed them on the tree in a random manner that to them seemed appropriate. My granddaughter sorted colors and shapes, while her younger brother made a nest on one side of the tree and lovingly set the ornaments he treasured in that safe place. Touched by their eagerness to help, the tree was left as they had decorated it, a reminder of that magical night.

I wrote the following poem this morning as I reflected on last year's experience. May I always remember the importance of reaching out to others in love. Gifts don't need to be large or expensive, but if they come from the heart, they are truly the best gifts we can give.

The Best Christmas Gift

Christmas

Can sometimes

Make us feel blue--

It’s sad to say but often true

This time of year we tend to miss

The items that bring true inner bliss

As we try to look impressive with lights and décor

Sending better Christmas cards than the year before

Tackling tasks we always think we must do this season

While we ignore the all-important behind-the-scenes reason

We celebrate this time of year—a time of hope, and love and cheer—

If we’ll reflect on what the best gift might be, an item not for sale, but given for free:

The love of our Savior—we can extend to others--the people around us, our sisters and brothers

He taught through love and the example He set, showing us it is much better to give than to get

Atoning for a world that doesn’t understand, the importance of being there for our fellow man

To emulate His life is the best gift to give, walking in His footsteps each day that we live

Reach out to those in need—lift the troubled soul

Make kindness, patience, and tolerance a goal

And in time we may begin to finally see

The path He walked in Galilee.

By: Cheri J. Crane

Mustard Seeds Matter

This past week has caused my family a bit of stress. One of my sister's daughters is currently serving a mission in the Philippines. If you've seen some of the news stories that the media has presented since Typhoon Haiyan made an appearance, you will probably understand our concern. Although we have been told comforting things like most of the missionaries serving in the Philippine Islands have been accounted for, there is still a fearful nudge that afflicts us all from time to time. We believe she is fine, but we want sure knowledge. We want to know where she is, if she's all right, and to hear her voice . . . or at least read an e-mail typed by her hand. The continued silence on her end is a source of worry.

I suspect that times like these are tests. Do we possess enough faith to continue on, even when the way isn't sure? It is a difficult trial.

Years ago, after I spoke at a fireside for a group of girls attending an annual YW girls' camp, I was presented with a necklace that contained a mustard seed encased in resin. It was the first time I had ever seen an actual mustard seed. This necklace became one of my treasures . . . a reminder that we can do great things if we possess faith the size of this very small seed.

In the New Testament, Matthew tells us the following story: a troubled man had brought his son to be healed by Christ's disciples. They tried--but were not successful. The man then approached our Savior and begged for His help. He healed this man's son in an instant. Later, when his disciples asked Him why they had not been able to heal this boy, Jesus told them it was because of their lack of faith. He went on to say,
 " . . .  if ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you." He then adds the following counsel: "Howbeit this kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting." (See Matt. 17:14-21) In other words, yes, if we possess a tiny bit of faith, great things are possible . . . but it requires effort on our part--belief, prayer, and fasting."

I believe this to be true. I have seen miraculous things take place when faith, prayer, and fasting are combined. I've been told as a Type 1 diabetic that fasting is not my friend, and to be honest, I don't attempt it very often, but when the need is great, and I've done everything else I can think of to make a positive difference, I fast. I go without food and water for as many hours as my body will tolerate. Eventually, my blood sugar level crashes, and I have to wrap things up fast, but to me, these sacred opportunities are great blessings in my life--a way to show my Father in heaven that I have done everything I can possibly do to survive a difficult trial, or on behalf of someone else who is suffering through a heart-rending test.

Things don't always turn out the way I hope or pray for--but I am usually blessed with the gift of peace and an assurance that while I may not understand why the outcome wasn't what I had desired--someday I will. Someday it will become clear why things happened the way that they did.

Periodically, I may still wish for a magic wand that makes everything better for everyone--but then again, perhaps that would defeat the purpose of this life. Without trials, we wouldn't grow into who our Father hopes we will someday become. And with faith, we can survive whatever this mortal journey brings our way.

Finding Peace During Troubled Times

As was mentioned repeatedly during this last session of General Conference, we live during troubled times. And as President Monson pointed out--there have always been troubled times. Since this life is basically a testing ground--a chance for us to develop our character and prove ourselves, there will be challenging trials.

I'll admit, however, that it is a bit disconcerting when one's country takes a nose-dive. These are uncertain moments and none of us quite know what to expect. When scary episodes take place during this journey we call "life," there is a formula we can follow to survive. I know this because I have survived a few perilous tests during my own mortal adventure.

Take the year, 1983. (Yes, as my children point out, I'm aging by the minute.) Several challenging events surfaced in my life. For starters, my pancreas finally gave up the ghost, and I went on insulin permanently. yay. This was a challenge, since my blood sugar levels tended to bounce everywhere but where they were supposed to be. I went from the 40 range up into the 400's at the drop of a hat, or so it seemed. (Normal people tend to bounce between about 80-120.) It didn't help that my husband and I discovered that I was expecting our first child during that tempestuous time. Needless to say, it was a challenging pregnancy--but prayers were answered and we survived. After nine challenging months, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy.

Just as it seemed as though we had passed that life test with flying colors, I developed blood clots in the main vein in my left leg--the one that takes blood to the heart. The largest clot was the size of a golf ball. Nice. So my newborn son went home without me as I endured 10 more exciting days in the hospital. This time the challenge was to stay alive, since everyone feared that the largest clot would dislodge and hit my heart. Good times. ;)

I survived yet again, beating the odds, and I returned home on crutches. Just as I began thinking the worst was over, my father, who had been enduring health challenges of his own, took his own life. My entire world seemed to implode. It took my family many years to pick up the pieces of that heart-rending challenge.

How did we get through all of that? I can look back now and see a pattern, since it's one I have clung to during other character-building moments. The most important thing is to keep breathing. Oxygen is our friend and we need it to keep going forward. So, take a few deep breaths when disasters descend, but don't hyperventilate. ;)

Keep your spiritual batteries charged. This can be done in a variety of ways, such as: prayer, studying the scriptures, hitting the temple, and reading through the inspirational talks given by our church leaders (hint: General Conference talks especially contain the tidbits of spiritual wisdom we need to continue our mortal journey.) Find what works for you, and do it daily. This is crucial.

Write out what you're feeling. During the nights when I couldn't sleep, I felt prompted to write out what was killing me inside. Then I shredded those pages into the garbage bin. It always made me feel lighter inside, and it hooked me on writing. This led to all kinds of interesting adventures, like eventually getting published.

Learn to take life one day at a time. And, as my mother has often pointed out, sometimes you can only deal with one minute at a time. After my father's death, she would wake up each morning and think, "All I have to do is to get up and get in the shower." Then that morphed into: "All I have to do now, is get dressed." Etc. and so forth. Take life in bits and pieces for a while. Don't let the big picture scare you into a non-functioning abyss.

Vent to a good friend. Sometimes it helps to simply share the fears inside your heart. This is an important release and it helps you make sense of challenges that often don't. There are times when all we need is a listening ear to sort through tribulation.

Make time for physical activity. There were times when I simply needed to go for a brisk walk to clear my head, or to play an aggressive game of racquetball. It helped me get rid of negative emotions that were tearing me apart.

And I can't emphasize this last suggestion enough: DO ACTS OF SERVICE!!!! I found that whenever I did something for someone else, it chipped away at the pain I was carrying around inside my troubled heart. The more I did for others, the better I felt.

As you can see, these are simple things, and yet they are huge when it comes to surviving distressing times. I find that I always return to this formula when mountainous obstacles block the path of my mortal journey. We can learn to climb those mountains, one step at a time--and along the way we learn that we are never as alone as we sometimes think we are. The veil is thin and there are numerous loved ones from the other side who are constantly cheering us on our way. We are indeed children of Heavenly Parents who are also cheering for us as we move forward past stumbling blocks. With their help, we can learn to turn those blocks into stepping stones along our path.

Avoiding Whales

So there I was, minding my own business, when an irritating inner nudge began to pester. I did my best to ignore it, coming up with all kinds of reasons to reject the prompting. No one needs to hear from me today. Others will share the message that needs to be contributed. It won't come out right anyway--and then I'll be mocked.

As these thoughts and others plagued during Fast Sunday, I continued to sit on my nice, comfortable seat, squirming in place until my husband inquired if I needed to make use of the facilities down the hall. =)

I found myself thinking of others who had felt a similar way. Take Moses, for instance. He was told that he needed to journey back to Egypt and have a chat with Pharaoh. I'm sure his inner struggle went something like this:

He won't listen to me anyway. Other people could do a much better job of sharing this message. It won't come out right--and then I'll be mocked. 

Then there was Jonah: They won't listen to me anyway. Someone else could do a better job of sharing this message. It won't come out right--and then I'll be mocked. Plus, I'm a tiny bit scared of these people. 

So on and so forth. In the case of Moses, he was given the reassurance that all would be well, and he was provided with a spokes-person in the form of his brother, Aaron.

Having a gifted spokesperson would be real boon. If I had such a thing, I could merely gesture to him/her and let them take over the conversation, testimony, talk, fireside, etc. whenever things get difficult. "And now, a word or two from someone who actually makes sense . . ." The pressure to strive for perfection would fade, since my personal spokesperson would see to it that the message I desire to convey is done so in the best way possible. I would LOVE that. ;)

However . . . I'm sure there could be a downside. For instance . . . what if my spokesperson had different ideas about how to present my message . . . and what if the message changed, based on their perspective? Then it would cease to be what I felt prompted to share. Hmmmm.

Let's reflect on Jonah. Maybe he had the right idea. When in doubt, run away. =) At times, I can see when this is preferred to standing up in front of people who judge you when something is stuck between your teeth, your shirt is buttoned wrong, or you're wearing two different shoes. These occasions tend to inspire creative mockery from the audience.

Upon further reflection, it didn't do Jonah any good to run away. He nearly caused the drowning demise of an entire shipload of people, not to mention the fact that he was swallowed by a whale. I can think of more enjoyable pastimes. I suspect Jonah was so relieved to be spit up on the shore, that suddenly, talking to the scary group of people seemed to be a better option. And we all know how Jonah's story turned out--an entire city was saved because he finally found the courage to share God's message.

I guess what I am attempting to say is this . . . when we receive promptings to do something . . . and it's a good thing . . . (one has to consider where the prompting is coming from) do it. As Nephi discovered, a way is provided for us to accomplish those often overwhelming "assignments." And as Joseph Smith learned, great things can come from small and simple acts of obedience. (See D. & C. 64:33-34; Joseph Smith History 1:7-19, not to mention, D. & C. 123:16).

Did I heed the prompting I was given yesterday? Grudgingly at first . . . but, yes, I finally did. I'll admit that I dragged my feet every step of the way up to the pulpit . . . but after gathering my courage, I did my best to share what was in my heart. Did it come out perfectly? No. After I returned to my seat, I was hit with "Dang it! I meant to say, this and this and this." Sigh . . .but then a quiet sense of inner peace indicated that I had done the best that I could do and all was well.

That's all our Father expects from any of us. We are given opportunities to do good things in this troubled world. We simply need to listen to the Still Small Voice, gather our courage, and faithfully strive to do our best. We may never know why we felt prompted to do some items--but I can testify that if it's a good thing, it's important to simply do it. Do it without questioning: "Why," "How," or "Me? Really?" If we will give heed to positive promptings, we will receive the guidance and help we need, one step at a time.



   

Learning From & Letting Go of the Past

Well, here we are, smack dab in the middle of September. The leaves are starting to turn vivid colors in the canyons, and though the sun is shining here and there (between impressive rain storms) a drop in the temperature indicates we are shifting from summer into fall.

Life is like that--it moves incredibly fast and it is full of change. You just think you've adjusted to one season, and another clamors for attention. Sometimes, it is good to look back and remember important highlights from previous eras--it helps form balanced perspectives for future adventures.

Earlier this month I returned to the place I consider my hometown--Ashton, Idaho. (My family moved eight times while I was growing up, but we spent the four years I was in high school in Ashton.) It was an interesting visit to this beautiful small town. As I walked around, savoring the crisp fall air, I felt a familiar urge to snap a few photos. [Those who know me well are rolling their eyes, very much not surprised by this tendency. ;) ]

I took a picture that won't mean anything to most people . . . but the empty spot on the side of Main Street holds a special place in my heart--the high school I once attended used to sit in this location. All that remains are a few trees, a patch of dried grass, and an empty parking lot. The deserted area tugged at my heart-- then I reminded myself that a brand new high school, both bigger and better, now exists on the other side of town. Some changes are good . . . it's just a little heart-rending to shift gears and move on.

While I was tripping down memory lane, I asked my husband to drive by the house my family purchased while we were in Ashton. It's located about two blocks away from where the old high school used to exist. The house appeared to be in great shape, with nice siding and a new roof. A sign indicates that it's for sale yet again. As I stood there, tears made an appearance. I quietly snapped a couple of pictures, took a deep breath, and walked down the street.

Turning, I gazed at the park that stands between my old house, and where the high school used to be. Tears gave way to a sense of peace as I realized that a horrendous ordeal that occurred during my sophomore year has helped shape me into a stronger, more determined individual. It was also a reminder of the importance forgiveness plays in all of our lives.

Years ago, as I walked home through that same park during the winter of my sophomore year in high school, I was attacked by an unknown assailant. By heeding the promptings that came through the gift of the Holy Ghost, I was able to get away with my virtue intact--a handful of bruises were the only visible marks that remained of that nightmarish evening. The inner bruising, however, would take years to heal. To this day, if someone walks up behind me and I'm not aware of their presence, a brief sense of panic descends. It is so much better than it was, however--and I have the Savior to thank for that great gift. 

Several years after I was married, I experienced a healing moment in the temple that helped me understand I had to let go of the hatred I had developed for the person who attacked me. Tears flowed that day, too, as I gave my pain to the Savior, and though I still jump when someone approaches me from behind, the anger, the sorrow, and the fear have faded into peace. I no longer harbor ill will toward whoever was responsible for the assault.

I have learned that if we so choose, we can release pent-up anger, inner pain, and the sorrow others have caused us when we give those negative emotions to the Savior. He knows best how to heal our hearts--and He has already atoned for what others may say or do to hurt us. When we continue to hang onto grudges, we're basically turning our backs to our Elder Brother. We can't fully enjoy life and experience the peace of heart our Father and Savior wish for us to find until we forgive.

Though I will never know in this life who the culprit was who caused me so much pain (the police were never able to prove who it was who attacked me that night) I had to release the angry hatred I was carrying around inside--it was tearing me apart. I have discovered that the same is true for other moments in my life when I have been offended or hurt. We have to let go of the negativity to heal. We must forgive others, and we must forgive ourselves when mistakes are made.

As I walked through the park in Ashton a few days ago, I did so with total peace of heart. And later that day, I met up with beloved friends from my youth as we celebrated our friendship by eating pizza and enjoying huckleberry shakes in the pizzeria that now exists where my dad's drugstore used to be.

Life is change. That's part of why we're here. If everything remained the same and we weren't tested and tried, we would never learn the lessons our Father desires us to experience while on this earth. I know I will be forever grateful for the education I've received thus far in my mortal journey. Some courses have been more difficult than others, but each one has helped to shape me into who I am today.