Truth VS. Falsehood

Yesterday in the teen Sunday School class that I teach, we discussed the importance of being able to distinguish truth from error or falsehood. I consider this an important skill to possess in today's crazy world. There are so many messages that bombard us on a daily basis from a myriad of sources: TV, newspapers, magazines, books, internet posts, social media discussions, etc. It seems like everywhere we turn, we run into opinions, conflicting information, and reports that are confusing at best, and overwhelming at worst. I suspect it has ever been the case.

We all know that there has been a battle raging from the beginning that pits good against evil. There is indeed, opposition in all things. As such, we must constantly be on guard against deceptions and lies that are spread by the adversary. Since these confusing tidbits can come in so many forms, and even from those we trust, it is crucial to develop the ability to discern the truth for ourselves.

I learned at an early age that it was important to check things out before blindly going along with the crowd. I shared two experiences with my class yesterday that convinced me that I needed to develop the ability to recognize truth--that falsehoods can lead to trouble. The experiences are as follows:

When I was about seven years old, the elementary students in our area were transferred to a brand new school. We were very excited since it was a state of the art building, complete with a wonderful playground. One of the main attractions was a large, wooden teeter-totter. It quickly became all the rage to sit on one end of this teeter-totter while fellow students ran to the other end and pushed down, raising the opposite end high into the air. After giving a signal, everyone would let go and the other end would come down with a bang, giving the lucky rider an exciting rush. I was told that it was better than riding on the back seat of a school bus, which everyone knew was an awesome experience.

 I watched this joyride take place several times, and everyone seemed to think it was a wondrous thing. Someone I considered a friend told me that I should try it. "You'll love it. It will be so fun." As I continued to watch, feeling a strange sense of unease, I decided this new-found trend wasn't for me. That was when my "friend" tried a different tactic. She called me a chicken, and not only once, but several times, effectively wounding my pride. Finally, I caved and made my way to the line of students who were eagerly waiting their turn. This was my chance to prove how brave I was. When the time came, I sat down on the end of the teeter-totter, and experienced an intense wave of unease. It just felt wrong, but before I could climb off, I was lifted high into the air by my fellow students.

When they released the teeter-totter, I plummeted down. Since I was smaller than most of the other students, I hit the ground hard, so hard that the two boards that were bolted together, came apart--just long enough to permit my small hands to slip between the boards. Without warning, I was trapped and in a lot of pain. As everyone stared, horrified at the blood that started to seep from my smashed fingers, the bell rang, and they all ran back inside the building, leaving me alone in my misery. Have you ever noticed that is how the adversary works? He entices us to go along with the crowd, to fall for the current trends, whether they are harmful or not. He doesn't care what happens to us, and he loves it when we are left in a mess, usually alone and in a lot of pain.

The truth was, the teeter-totter adventure was more dangerous than anyone thought, and I was in serious trouble. Fortunately, my teacher happened to be my aunt, and she noticed right away that I was missing. When she asked my classmates where I was, not one person revealed that I was trapped in the teeter-totter. Worried, she came looking for me, and discovered the mess I was in. After realizing she would need help to remove me from the boards of the teeter-totter, she ran back to the school and quickly located the janitor. Several minutes later, the teeter-totter was dismantled and I was freed from my wooden prison. I was lucky--the damage to my hands wasn't permanent. Miraculously, none of my fingers were broken--just cut and bruised.

Now after that experience, you would think I had learned my lesson about the danger of following the crowd, or listening to people I had assumed were my friends. It took one more painful experience for that concept to finally sink in. About a year later, the same good "friend" who had taunted me into trying the teeter-totter ride told me a beauty secret. My mother later let me know that it was probably said out of spite or jealousy. I had been born with lots of thick, dark hair, and possessed long, thick eyelashes. My "friend" possessed a pixie cut of her wispy blonde hair. One day, this friend informed me that if I pulled out all of my eyelashes, they would grow back in thicker than they were. She told me that our mothers wouldn't tell us this information since they didn't want us to be as pretty as they were. In my defense, (yes, I sponged this information) I remembered seeing my mother pluck around her eyes with tweezers. I thought that she had been pulling out her eyelashes. I should've gone home and asked her about it, and I would've learned that she had been shaping her eyebrows--that it had nothing to do with her eyelashes. Instead, I believed this friend of mine, and once again, despite the uneasy feeling I experienced, I followed her advice.

I'll never forget the horrified look on my mother's face that afternoon when I arrived home from school with bald eyes. She nearly passed out from shock. As you may have all guessed, what my friend told me was indeed a falsehood. My eyelashes were never the same. A few grew back in, but nothing like what I had possessed before.

This was a hard way to learn that not everything I would hear was truth. Until that point in time, I pretty much believed what I was told, since I trusted everyone. It's sad when that childhood trust is shattered. But I'm grateful for the lessons that I learned--that earlier pain prevented me from falling into future traps. From that point on, I carefully weighed what people told me, and also what I read. As I matured, I learned to trust in the impressions that came. Calm, peaceful feelings were to be trusted. Uneasy, confusing feelings were a warning. A warm sensation inside my heart helped me to distinguish truth from error.

I still follow this formula whenever I question something I've read or heard. It has saved me a lot of grief through the years, especially when popular opinion tries to force itself upon me. If it feels wrong--it is. It's truly as simple as that. Our Father knew we would live in a confusing time, and He has provided a way for us to travel through this mortal journey with inspired guidance, if we will only listen to that Still Small Voice. 

Balancing Act

Recently the diabetic specialist I had been seeing on a regular basis decided to retire. I was told that a new specialist would take her place. However, after the new doctor tried things out at that diabetic clinic for a month, she quit. It was then I decided to take matters into my own hands and find myself a new doctor, one that was hopefully a little closer to home.This task proved to be rather complicated as I had to consider the limitations of our insurance (it will only cover certain, PPO approved physicians,) and the fact that I am an odd duck--a Type 1 diabetic on an insulin pump. As such, I had to find someone who was comfortable handling an insulin pump patient. (Most diabetics are Type 2 and control things with diet, exercise, oral meds, etc.)

I searched the internet for a physician that would satisfy everyone's requirements. After a few days of sorting through endless lists, I narrowed it down to an individual that seemed to stand out. He was on our insurance roster as an approved doctor--and when I called to talk to the nice receptionist, she assured me that he was taking new patients and he had worked with other insulin pump dependent diabetics. Also, he was a D.O.--the type of doctor my youngest son is seeking to become.(Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine.) From what I've learned through experience, and what my son has taught me, D.O.'s tend to be very patient friendly. Also, they are trained to use the best of Western and Eastern medicine. This is extremely cool. =)

Deciding I had struck pay-dirt, I told the receptionist that I would like to lock this doctor in as my new diabetic specialist. That's when I was told that this particular doctor likes to look through files and decide which patients he is willing to add to his clientele. Ah. This was new. Not only was I evaluating him, but he would be going through the same process with me. Interesting.

The next day I received a phone call and was informed that I had been accepted as a patient. I did the dance of joy, hoping this was a good change. About a week later, my husband and I drove to Logan and met up with my new specialist. It was a good experience, even though my A1C test was a little higher than it should've been. (The test that reveals the average blood sugar level for the past 3 months.) Because of that, I was told that I needed to meet with the office dietician--a bright young man that the nurses and my new doctor highly recommended. I still pouted. I mean, seriously? I've been a Type 1 diabetic since I was the tender age of 19. After ten years . . . (Kidding. My 30-year-old son informed me last year that I can no longer be 29. Sigh . . .) okay . . . after 33 years, I think I know what I'm doing . . . most of the time. ;) I knew my blood sugar levels had been bouncing for a couple of months. It's the time of year when my RA (Rheumatoid Arthritis) acts up (compliments of the wacky weather) and with the inflammation comes increased blood sugar levels. It's just how my silly body rolls. Everything (and I do mean everything) affects blood sugar levels. Pain, heat, cold, illnesses, exercise, carbs consumed, etc. It proves to be quite the balancing act, and something I live with every day. True character building moments. Back to my story:

After silently protesting, I decided to be a sport. I reasoned that this was a new start . . . a big change. And maybe the dietician could help me get things balanced. On the other hand . . . I've been counting carbs for years--what more was there to learn? I soon found out. About two weeks later, I met with the dietician. I had been asked to keep track of everything during the preceding two weeks: Basal rates, insulin boluses, meals consumed, exercise, the works. I found the old charting graphs I had used when I first became a pump patient and after making copies, I used them to record all of this lovely information.

My mother went with me to this appointment. She was curious about what this new dietician could possibly teach me about diabetes, something we've already established that I've lived with for a gracious long time. An hour and a half later, my mind was reeling with new information. It turns out that things have changed . . . a lot within the past five years. I left the clinic that day so excited, I could barely contain myself. And as everyone had said, the dietician was awesome. He was upbeat, encouraging, and didn't put me on a guilt trip over days when my levels were less than impressive. Instead, he praised my efforts and then used entertaining props to help me understand what my silly body is doing these days.

Later that night, I had to call my oldest son, who is becoming a dietician, and shared my new-found enthusiasm. He understood everything I had learned and told me that it has been amazing what has been discovered about diabetes in recent times. He was excited that I had stumbled onto a doctor and a dietician that make a great team. Though the past few weeks have been challenging (we're in the process of changing basal rates--the insulin levels that drip in continuously from my insulin pump) to get things to balance out, I know it will all be worth it. Eventually, we'll have things stream-lined and I will likely be in better shape than I've been in for a long time.

So I'm realizing . . . again . . . that change is important. It's how we learn, grow, and better ourselves in this crazy world. We weren't meant to exist in a state of constant bliss in an environment that stays the same. We need to be flexible enough to "ride the waves," as they come into our lives and glean those things that will make a positive difference. Though I tend to fall off my "surfboard" . . . a lot (yep, I am a descendant of the dude who fell off the Mayflower--John Howland) I'm learning how crucial it is to keep trying, knowing that someday, the balance I'm seeking will be attained and I will be a better person as a result.

Book Reviews: "We Are Strong" & "I Am Strong! I Am Smart!"

Lately it seems like we are inundated with numerous negative messages. They are featured on the news, in various social media outlets, and hidden in lyrics, movies, and books. Sadly, those hurtful phrases often come from the people around us. It is rare to find items that boost self-esteem--inspiring words that remind us who we really are and why we're here in mortal mode. That is why I'm excited to share the following information.

I was recently asked to review two books written by one talented woman: Fay A. Klinger. Both books contain significant, upbeat messages that can touch hearts in a good and positive way. The first book, "We Are Strong," is written specifically for women and their daughters, and granddaughters, and it would be a useful tool for young women and their leaders.

In this book, Fay skillfully weaves the Young Women values with stories and experiences that help the reader understand the importance of believing in our divine nature. Current challenges such as bullying and recovery from abusive situations are highlighted in a sensitive manner. Helpful suggestions are offered that will aid in healing from these all-too-common threats to our society. In my opinion, this is an important book that mothers and daughters should read together.

Here is a sample paragraph:

"No matter how routine or mundane our tasks may be as mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sisters, Relief Society leaders, and Young Women leaders, we must never forget to see each other, our daughters, and the young women of the Church from an eternal perspective. Our primary role is to nurture and teach. We cannot be neutral in that role. We must be actively engaged. As we are more inclined to magnify the positive rather than point out the negative, our influence will ease the trials these women and girls endure--rejection, loneliness, self-doubt, exhaustion, temptation--and give them the confidence to be the daughters God intends them to be."

This is a book that can change lives and promote self-esteem in a time when our spiritual armor is being dented from all sides. It is an inspiring work that every woman and girl can benefit from--I cannot stress this enough. On a scale of 1 to 5 stars, I'm giving it a 5 star rating because I believe in its timely and important message of hope and healing.

The second book contains a similar theme, but the target audience is younger readers, although I believe people of all ages will enjoy the content. Beautifully illustrated, "I Am Strong! I Am Smart!" also stresses the importance of believing in ourselves. Sharing the story of a young girl and the influence of her loving grandmother during a difficult time, this book makes it clear that we need to ignore negative insults and develop a strong sense of self-worth. After the grandmother teaches this crucial concept, she suffers a slight stroke, and it is the granddaughter's turn to remind the older woman of her own importance in this challenging world.

These two books would be a welcome addition to any home library. Here are links to Amazon if you are interested in purchasing either book:

 http://www.amazon.com/Fay-A.-Klingler/e/B001JOZJU2

https://www.facebook.com/FayKlingler

And here is a link to a short video clip about "I Am Strong! I Am Smart!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLbi8fakYoU&feature=youtu.be

And here is the link to Fay's website:

http://www.fayklingler.com/

An Irish Toast

Today is a holiday that is celebrated in our family. Sometimes we attend St. Patrick's Day parades, or gather together as a clan to enjoy the day. We always enjoy the traditional corned beef and cabbage feast, complete with roasted potatoes and Irish soda bread. We do this in part because of our Irish ancestry. One of my maternal lines is Irish, and we take great delight in this heritage.

Our Irish ancestors were hardy folk who possessed a zest for life, and a determination to succeed. My maternal grandfather was a great example of this. He seemed to understand that despite the difficulties that life at times presents, it's important to look for the good, to press forward, finding the humor in challenging situations.

His was not an easy life. When he was in the 8th grade, his father passed away from something the doctor diagnosed as "Telescope Gut." Now we know that it was a strangulated hiatal hernia. Not a pleasant way to go, but at the time, there wasn't much that could be done. After his father's demise, my grandfather dropped out of school to help support his family. He worked hard, along with his numerous brothers, to provide the basic necessities of life.

They worked hard . . . and played hard, always managing to keep a balance, something my grandfather did his entire life. Growing up in a small cabin in the Grays Lake area in southeastern Idaho, my grandfather came from a large family. Though I'm sure there were times they didn't always get along, I suspect that for the most part, they still managed to have a lot of fun together. I grew up hearing the stories of fishing trips, hunting adventures, hours spent singing, dancing, playing simple card games, and enjoying life. I saw how my grandfather and his siblings enjoyed spending time together during their later years and knew that the bonds established when they were younger helped them to remain close.

My grandfather faced many trials during his life. Among them: the death of a child, worry over two other sons who served in the military, injuries sustained during a terrible car accident, economic setbacks, and being struck by lightening twice. But no matter what the challenges were, he always rose to the occasion, setting an example of courageous fortitude.

It amazes me still how he managed to keep his sense of humor intact. He was always smiling and laughing, and looking on the bright side of things. And he was the type of grandparent that grandchildren love. He  made time for us, teaching us the songs and games he had learned in his youth. He told hilarious stories that made us laugh, and took us with him when he went out on his ranch to take care of his animals. He taught us that animals were to be treated with kindness and respect and he let us experience things like feeding bum lambs, and seeing how his small dairy operated.

He took us fishing on many occasions, patiently sharing his secrets on how to catch the silvery creatures. Since he worked part-time for the local Fish and Game, he knew exactly where to go to find the fish and we always came home with an impressive catch that we would eat for dinner.

In later years, we were saddened to lose this great man. He lived to be in his eighties and had enjoyed amazing health and strength his entire life. Then pancreatic cancer surfaced and he bravely fought his final battle. Though he was in tremendous pain, he still inspired smiles and laughter until the very end.

It hurt to see him go, but I've never forgotten the peaceful joy that most of us felt during his funeral. It was more like a joyous graduation event as we reflected on the great example he had set for us to follow. And so we celebrate days like today as a tribute to our grandfather--a man who represented all that is good about being Irish. I'm sure if he was here with us today, he would stress that the secret of enjoying life is to continually look for the good, learn from the bad, and keep moving forward no matter what.

Change Courts

Several years ago my family invented a new way to play tennis. Since we're silly people on occasion, and not gifted athletes, we found it entertaining to switch courts if the ball bounced out of bounds. We would simply move on to the next court and try the game using a different playing field as we chased the tennis ball. Changing courts added a dash of excitement to what would have been a boring time of retrieving the ball each time it bounced out of the appropriate zone.

I'm sure we all have moments when we feel a sense of security from remaining in a comfort zone. We get used to things being a certain way and we are comfortable with that. Then one day, change forces us to explore boundaries we had no intention of experiencing, and to adapt to a new state of being.This change can be the result of physical or emotional challenges, job relocation, or perhaps the loss of a loved one. Regardless of how it happens, all of us will find ourselves "changing courts," whether we want to, or not.

I teach a teen Sunday School class and this month we're focusing on the Plan of Salvation--the knowledge of who we are, why we're here on earth, and where we are going . . . someday. In preparing these lessons, I probably learn more than anyone else. I've found myself pondering some of my heroes from the Bible lately, people like Joseph (most people add "who was sold into Egypt," to clarify who we're talking about). So, consider how life must've seemed to Joseph. He was a favored son of a loving father--his life was pretty much mapped out in what was a common way to live back in the day. Then he found himself in a different court--quite literally. His own brothers, people I'm sure he loved, sold him into slavery. He became a servant in a culture that was alien to anything he had ever known before. To make matters worse, he eventually landed in prison, accused of something he didn't do.

I'm sure it was a difficult time for Joseph. For a while, he may have figured his entire life was ruined. Most of us know how his story turned out. He didn't give up. He made the best of difficult circumstances and despite challenging obstacles, he managed to flourish. Joseph blossomed into a great leader among the Egyptian people and later saved his own family from starvation during a drought. Joseph the caterpillar became Joseph, the mighty butterfly--all because of dramatic changes that propelled him into an environment of growth and learning.

I suspect that is one of the main reasons we're here in this mortal world. We weren't sent here to find a cozy corner and drift along in a state of perpetual bliss. We were sent here to gain a body (some of us aren't overly thrilled with the model we inherited, but I digress) and to prove ourselves. At one time, before we came to this world, we knew that we would be tested, challenged, and stretched. I wonder if we fully understood how painful that process would be on occasion. ;) In my own life, I have come to realize that the best educational moments have been a direct result of challenging trials that forced me to make difficult choices and to stretch myself beyond what I thought I was capable of achieving.

Someday, when I change courts permanently, and I'm reviewing the video of my life (something I'm sure will be a combination comedy/action adventure story) I will probably more fully appreciate the lessons that were learned along the way. Hopefully I will have progressed from caterpillar mode into the butterfly I hope to eventually become. Pulling myself out of comfort zones and exploring other courts will be a big part of that process, I'm sure. Consider this--water that sits in a quiet pool becomes stagnant. The best water is the kind that has been purified through motion. Change is often hard, but it is the launching pad that will propel us into who we are meant to be.

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.