Falling into Gratitude

Hi all. So I’m sitting here, wide awake, still adjusting to the time change, staring at a blank computer screen. I keep feeling like there’s something I’m supposed to be sharing in a blog post . . . but I’m not sure what that is. I guess I’ll ramble for a minute and see what takes shape.

It has been an interesting past few months. I’m sure everyone else can relate. We had a cold, looonng winter, not much of a spring, two months of summer, and an extremely short fall, and yep, back to winter. Sigh . . . joys of living in a mountain valley. We usually enjoy three months of summer, but that was not the case this year. As I recall, we built a fire for warmth on June 22^nd for an outside social, and still froze. It really didn’t start getting warm until July. So I’m a bit peeved that winter surfaced in our neck of the woods long before Halloween. Most uncool . . . actually, it has been very cool, pun intended.

And is it me, or does time keep picking up speed these days. It seems like it was just a few weeks ago that we were huddling around a campfire trying to stay warm the end of June, and now we’re entering that interesting time of year when most stores, etc. skip from Halloween to Christmas, jumping over my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving!

I love Thanksgiving!!! I love getting together with loved ones, cooking up a storm, and pondering the blessings that have come into our lives. So I still stubbornly decorate for Thanksgiving right after Halloween as my way of protesting. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas, too, but I think it’s sad that Thanksgiving gets lost in the shuffle.

And this year, despite a myriad of challenges, there are many things that I am thankful for. I am grateful that for once I was able to grow not one, but two pumpkins in my short-lived garden, something that has never happened before. We used to try growing them when our boys were young, but the plants always froze. This year I cheated and bought actual plants instead of seeds, figuring it was the only way I would harvest anything this year with our two month summer. And it worked . . . after my first plantings all froze and I had to start over. Good times.

I’m grateful that my husband and I survived being in charge of not just one, but three reunions this year. Whew, no wonder the summer was a bit of a blur.

I appreciated the time we were able to spend with our kids and grandkids just recently in South Dakota, and throughout the year at family gatherings, reunions, camping trips, etc. Those are the things that matter most. My family means everything to me, and I’m hoping that one day, we will manage to get everyone together at the same time. Shush . . . one can dream.

I also treasure the time I was able to spend with a dear friend that we lost not too long ago. I miss her gentle smile, but I will always remember her courage, positive attitude, and compassion for others as she faced the tremendous challenge of Lou Gehrig's Disease.

And I am so grateful for friends who help me maintain my sanity during these crazy times! You all know who you are and you are all very much loved and appreciated!!!

I am grateful for the beautiful world in which we live. True, some places might seem a bit more scenic than others (this said after surviving 2 jaunts through the Wyoming desert recently) but even in the desert, there are wonders to behold.

I’m thankful our youngest son and his awesome wife survived med school, and all that that entails. They were able to move to South Dakota for his residency after his graduation this year, and things are falling into place. I’m grateful that our others sons currently both have wonderful opportunities to embrace that will help them achieve the goals they have with their own chosen careers in dietetics, and cyber security. All three sons have come in handy with the sage advice they offer as their father and I blunder through life. And we will be forever grateful to our wonderful daughters-in-law for all that they do, and for patiently hanging in there as our sons pursue lofty goals.

I think I mentioned something about this earlier, but it warrants more attention: I am beyond grateful for each and every one of my grandchildren. They are the light of my life! And the plaque one gifted daughter-in-law made for me that hangs in our living room is true: “Grandchildren are God’s reward for not killing your children!” We love the time we get to spend with these precious gifts from heaven, and look forward to future adventures.

I'm also extremely grateful for a husband who is supportive to all of us, and goes out of his way to help everyone around him.  

And I need to add how much I appreciate my awesomely talented siblings who have always been there for me. We've walked a difficult path together and it has bonded us in ways we're still figuring out. I'm also grateful for their respective spouses, and their families who all hold a special place in my heart.  

Also on my list of blessings are all of my in-laws on my hubby's side of the family tree. They have all played important roles in our lives.

And though I may cuss it a lot on occasion, especially during stormy times when Rheumatoid Arthritis tends to rear its ugly head, I am still grateful for a body that functions . . . most of the time. There is the occasional blood sugar glitch compliments of Type 1 diabetes, but I am able to do most of the things that I desire.

I’m also grateful for the chance I currently have to be my mother’s primary care-taker. Her health has steadily declined the past couple of years and there have been some challenges, but her determined spirit continues to amaze and astound doctors, nurses, and myself. She experienced a slight stroke in January, and has fought her way back. She is still living in her own apartment and I check on her daily to help with varied needs. Her perseverance is a wonderful example to us all.

So . . . in short, though this year has been filled with challenges, it has also been filled with wonderful people and experiences. And this Thanksgiving, as we gather together with precious loved ones, I will have a lengthy list of blessings to be extremely grateful for. And I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels that way. ;) [This is a hint. Start pondering your own list . . . just sayin’--it does make you feel better about things when life appears to inhale, like early snow, for instance.]

Braving the Trail

Salu! It has been a looooonnnngggg time since I composed a blog post. In my defense, life has been a blur the past few months. Weddings, graduations, reunions (we were only in charge of 3 this year), camping adventures . . . and unfortunately, funerals, have occupied our time. In short, we have not been bored. I’m sure most of you could say the same.

In recent days, I have mourned the loss of a dear friend who faced her Goliath of a health challenge (Lou Gerhrig’s Disease) with courage and grace. She will be missed greatly by anyone who knew her. And though our hearts are aching, we are grateful she is no longer suffering. And we know that someday, we’ll see Deb again.

I was appreciative that shortly after her passing, I was able to spend time in the nearby mountains with family members who helped me absorb the pain in my heart. And on one of our adventures, I was taught an important lesson that has helped me regain perspective. I’m hoping to share this now for any who might also need a small boost along life’s journey.

Each year our family spends time together in the mountains, enjoying each other’s company and feeling the healing peace that is there. We usually spend some time looking for fossils. This has become a fascinating family hobby that we enjoy together. This year we decided to hike back into the famed trilobite bed that lies up a local canyon. We have made this journey before and though it is a long, hot hike in and out, we’ve always found trilobite treasures that take the sting out of the ordeal.

This year, we decided instead of walking in on the fairly easy path that lies out in the hot sun, we would take the other trail that descends through a forested mountain, thinking the shade would be an easier way to go.

My husband and I rode in on our trusty RZR to where the trail begins down the mountainside. As we waited for the others who were walking in the entire way, we did some explorations. My husband selected a path on the right side, and I chose one on the left, trying to figure out which one would be better for our grandchildren to use. I hiked in several yards, then came back to where the RZR was parked to wait for everyone else. Just a few short minutes later, the rest of our group showed up, with one exception. Our son had decided to take his three-year-old in on the lower, hot and dusty trail, figuring it would be easier for her.

My husband still hadn’t returned to the RZR. What I didn’t know at that time was that he had already descended down to the fossil bed and was waiting for everyone else to arrive. So as the rest of our bunch decided to head down, I waited by the RZR for Kennon. A few minutes later, I was very glad that I was there. My five-year-old granddaughter softly called to me, “Grandma, I need your help.”

I looked up and saw that my granddaughter was on her way to where I was, looking quite distraught. “Oh, Grandma, I couldn’t keep up.” Nearly in tears, she was in need of comfort and encouragement. I assured her that all would be well and that I would help her make that difficult journey. This granddaughter takes after me somewhat in the height challenged department and is not very tall. Her short legs couldn’t keep up with the older kids who had hurried down the trail. The adults in the lead hadn’t caught on that this young lady was missing yet, but I knew they would eventually. So, hand in hand, my tiny granddaughter and I began what proved to be an arduous climb down that mountain.

I could quickly see why my granddaughter had panicked. There was a lot of tree-fall all along that trail. At one point we ran into 4 large trees that had fallen on top of each other. We had no choice but to walk down to where the tip of the trees lay on the ground, a place where we could finally straddle the trees and climb over. I was able to lift my granddaughter up and over that set of trees, and each succeeding log or tree that blocked our path. Together we faced spider webs (we both hate spiders), ants, and places where the trail seemed to disappear as we carefully made our way down that steep mountain. When we began to see that we were nearing the ravine where the fossil bed lies, we began hollering, hoping someone would hear us. We knew that by now they were aware that two of us were missing and we wanted to let them know that we were ok. Winded, scratched, and bruised in places, but fine nevertheless.

Eventually, my husband heard us. He had come back up to search for us, figuring we were somewhere along the path. When I assured him that we were ok, but taking our time on the trail, he went to share the news with everyone else that all was well.

Not long after that, we emerged above the fossil bed, and made our way to where everyone else was waiting. It was a joyful reunion as most had been concerned about the missing five-year-old, and her diabetic grandmother. We had survived that journey together, realizing that we had needed each other to make it through.

And that is the lesson I learned that day. We were never meant to make life’s often difficult journey alone. We are blessed with family members and friends who can help us along when the path ahead seems daunting. We will all face challenges that will stretch us beyond what we think we can endure—having others at our side helps us to survive and make it through.

Myself, I tend to be the eternal two-year-old: “Do it myself!” seems to be my theme. But I am learning that there are times when it’s too difficult to do things alone. How grateful I am for those who willingly wade in after me . . . and for the times when I am given the opportunity to do so for others. And to me, that’s what life is all about.

Life-lines

I know it has been a while since I last composed a blog post. Life seems to be a blur these days as we journey from one adventure to another. And everywhere we look, people are being stretched in a myriad of ways. There are so many trials and heartaches. The world does indeed seem to be in commotion and our hearts are being filled with fear, as the scriptures have predicted.

Despite all of that, there can be peace. It is found in the small and simple things we have been repeatedly asked to do. These things are so simple, we sometimes turn our backs to them, thinking there is no way we can find solace in what many consider to be old-fashioned nonsense. Many cling to scientific discoveries or worldly views, thinking that is where truth will be found. And yet, their hearts are still filled with a gnawing emptiness as they continue to turn away from the only source of comfort.

In this world, we all have to find our own way to comforting peace. Sadly, we sometimes don’t search for that path until our lives lie in ruins. When we find ourselves broken, overwhelmed, and discouraged, that is often when we realize that an important aspect is missing.

One of my grandfathers owned a dairy. He milked cows most of his adult life. My mother often relates how wonderful it was to walk out to the milking parlor where her father was sitting on a stool, milking one of his cows. In her tiny hand was a tin cup. She would hopefully hold out that cup, knowing her father would fill it for her. In that way, she gained desired nourishment, comfort, and joy.

There are several analogies we can create from that small and simple thing. The first one that comes to mind is that for my grandfather to be able to fill his daughter’s empty cup, he had to be steadfast and solid himself. If he hadn’t been anchored on a strong foundation, the cup would remain empty, and the life-giving substance would go to waste.

So we begin with the foundation: in this case a sturdy, 3-legged stool. A 2-legged stool is too wobbly—all three legs are very much needed for solid balance. To my way of thinking we all are in need of a sturdy, 3-legged foundation. To survive in today’s crazy world we need prayer, testimony, and faith. Those are the 3 legs that will hold us up, despite heart-rending trials.

I look back over my life and I know that whenever I have faced hard things, prayer has been a crucial life-line. I have endured numerous health glitches, some so scary I wondered if I would survive. My heart has been repeatedly shattered by horrific loss, and yet comfort has been attained. I have agonized over choices made by loved ones—but peace descends when I need it most. All of that has come through sincere prayer. The answers don’t always surface at once, but every prayer is heard, and eventually answered by a loving Father in heaven.

There is an argument that if you can’t see something, it doesn’t exist. Fortunately, we were blessed with more than one sense. My mother is losing her eyesight. She depends on her ability to hear, touch, and smell to orient herself. For her, prayer is a needed lifeline. It has held her together through countless trials.

I feel the same way. Prayer has guided my course through life and provided peace when I’ve needed it most. When we humble ourselves enough to truly talk to our Father in heaven, amazing things take place. I have seen too many miracles to ever doubt that prayer is real. Prayer is one leg of our sure foundation.

Testimony is another crucial leg of our foundation. Without it, we pretty much are blown about by whatever wind comes into our lives. When we sincerely crave to know what is true and what this life is all about, then we seek a genuine knowledge. It comes in a myriad of ways: experience, education, and what our heart tells us is right. I found it through savoring the scriptures. It doesn’t come through skimming through them—but through diligent study . . . and prayer. One leg helps to hold up another. To achieve the desired balance, we must rely on each leg of our stool.

The final leg: faith. We have to believe in what we come to know is truth. We have to push our way through darkened paths to find light and joy. It’s not easy. I have found myself broken on life’s path, overwhelmed by inner pain. I have gazed at the sky and seen only clouds—it’s easy to forget that beyond them lie the stars.

I have shared this experience before, but I feel impressed to share it again:

A few weeks ago, I had been feeling quite discouraged. I think we all experience times like that in our lives, times when we wonder why life has to be so challenging. I don't feel that way all of the time, but for some reason, at that particular instance, despair seemed to creep into my heart. One night when everyone else in my family had gone to bed, I wandered outside. Sometimes listening to the night sounds brings comfort and so I sat on the porch and listened for a bit. I remember silently praying, asking why I was feeling this way. The thought came to mind, "There is still beauty in the world." I agreed, but still wanted to know why things seemed so bleak. I had been having some challenging health problems and at that time, there were several trials taking place with some of my extended family members. As I wondered why everything had to be so hard, I stood and glanced up at the sky. It was one of those star-filled nights--the entire sky was lit up with stars. Again the thought came to mind, "There is still beauty in the world." As I gazed at the stars, I noticed that clouds were moving in. This is something that has probably occurred millions of times, but for once, I was watching as it happened. Within minutes, every star was covered. As I stared at the sky, I was so amazed by how quickly the clouds had moved in. Another thought came to mind, "Are the stars still there?" With that thought came the peace I had been seeking. Other thoughts came, "Is the Church still true? Does your Heavenly Father love you? Did your elder Brother lay His life down for you? Are all of these things true despite the discouragement, despite the challenges, the heartaches, the pains of life? Are the stars still there?"

The lesson I was taught that night has been such a comfort. Every time I start feeling a little down, it comes to mind: "Are the stars still there?"

To make a long story short, [I wrote] a song based on that theme . . . Here are the lyrics:

                                 Are The Stars Still There?

By: Cheri J. Crane

1st:

Dark were my thoughts--all around were storms of heartache and strife

All those tests that sometimes just go with life

Mountains that seemed too steep to climb.

I walked outside--to clear my head and ask my Father, "Why?"

My inner peace had dissolved for a time

Where was the faith that was mine?

Chorus:

Staring at the star-filled sky--my heart revealed its inner cry

"Father, if You're listening help me know the reason why."

A thousand tiny twinkling lights were covered, hidden from my sight

Grey clouds veiling light that once had shone so bright.

Darkness seemed to fill the night as every star was veiled from sight

Yet peace crept in my heart and comfort eased the black despair

As the question came, "My child, my child--Are the stars still there?"

2nd:

Now when dark thoughts come and some nights seem too long

I remember the words of this song

When everything seems to go wrong

The answer to my prayer--the night I struggled with despair

The night my Father heard my silent prayer

And reminded me the stars are always there.

Chorus:

Our Father's love is always there--through layers of grief and care

Hope is shining brightly through the clouds of dark despair

A thousand tiny twinkling lights--though covered, hidden from our sight

Grey clouds veiling light that once had shone so bright.

Though darkness seems to fill the night--And every star is veiled from sight

Peace and love seep through to ease the black despair--

Remember the question--"My child, are the stars still there?"

Faith, testimony, & prayer—these are the legs for our much-needed foundation. They are lifelines in today’s’ crazy world. For any who are struggling through life’s journey, these are the things that will help us survive. They will help us find a balance that is crucial. And once we establish our own balance, then we can help fill the cups that others hold out to us.