I follow Geoffrey Walker’s Instagram account because of the way he delights in his wife’s sewing projects. This man is so good-natured and happy. Pauline is his sweetheart and he often says, “I love that girl!” They post snippets of a simple life, full of love and faith.
I follow this Instagram account because this father daughter duo is talented and loving.
I love Mr Morrill. He is a light, too.
Oh, this pandemic. I find my opinions and moods shift like the tides. I keep a copy of Paige’s paintings on the front of our kitchen cupboards to remind me that things will get better. When I am dealing with complex emotions, I ask myself where I am in The Secret Garden spectrum, and just being able to place myself in the story helps me see there is a resolution coming. Some days, I am painting number one, contrary and pessimistic. I like the painting with Collin in bed, with Mary illuminating the room with her candle. I want to be like Mary, sharing light, even though I am a little fragile, too. Richard likes the doorway opening into the garden, reminding us to keep a sense of wonder and hope. Clearing flower beds with the family was our best activity all week, and in a month or so, there WILL be pink flowers on the tree outside my living room window. Where are you in the spectrum today? Where is your robin leading you?
As we approach the worldwide fast for relief from the effects of COVID-19 tomorrow, I want to share this painting by J Kirk Richards entitled, He Healed Many of Diverse Diseases.*
As you look at this painting, what do you notice? Can you picture yourself here, and if so, which person seems most like you? What do you learn from the child in the painting? Who are the people that are ministering? Who might be feeling fear or anxiety, and what can you learn from their acts of faith? What feelings does this painting evoke? What truths about a merciful God can be found here? What can you do to point others to the Master Healer at this unique time?
I like the following graphic, but it is missing an important point: a prophet of God issued this call to fast. President Nelson is inviting us to plead for ourselves and our brothers and sisters all over the globe.
*This painting can be found in the 2020 Come Follow Me for Individuals and Families manual for the week of February 10-16, page 29.
These weeks have not been easy. The not knowing, the not-so-good news, the waiting, painful conversations with people who heard Daniel was home when he was not, the constant school emails, and the work stress were rough. Things were complicated in Chile. Daniel helped print four different release certificates for himself in the mission office as his evacuation date moved several times. I prayed for peace constantly. One night, out of words to pray, I lay in bed praying the words to “Bring Him Home,” which was one of my more effective prayers.
Neither Richard nor I slept well the night before Daniel’s flight, and Richard tracked that plane constantly throughout the day. I kept busy, but felt my chest tighten as the day progressed. We drove to the airport together, two nervous wrecks. No, we didn’t think he would come home sick or harmed, but we were embarking into an unknown. Daniel arrived, full of light and reassurance. That night, I had my best sleep in years.
It’s not that we lacked faith. It’s that faith sometimes needs to be tested. Would we complain? Would we push our needs ahead of others who were suffering in different ways? Would we keep turning to God? Would we be overly dramatic about circumstances? Would we neglect the needs of our other children as we hyper-focused on our worries about international travel for Daniel? Would we stop acknowledging the blessings that flowed because Daniel was serving a mission? Would we forget hope? Would we neglect the little things like family prayer and scripture study in this sickly, dense fog?
There is much more to live before the resolution of this story. I don’t want to forget the comfort that only came through prayer. I don’t want to forget the light in Daniel’s missionary face. I don’t want to forget that there was a continual flow of understanding and concrete instructions as I read the Book of Mormon each day, pen in hand. These have been precious, soul-expanding days leading up to his return. Now that he is home, I am giving myself permission to breathe, rejoice, rest, and just look at Daniel’s face, in line with the rest of our children, all gathered together again.
Dear Daniel,
Did you ever look through a kaleidoscope? That’s what life feels like right now. We get used to looking at a beautiful pattern through the lens, but it’s only temporary; the world rotates, and little pieces of our lives shuffle to different places. For a time, there is a grating noise, and some resistance to rotating the scope. It feels chaotic and uncomfortable, but another pattern emerges from the shuffling of pieces. Beauty and order always find a way. There are beautiful patterns emerging from this time of upheaval. We don’t know how our little pieces will rearrange themselves, but they will, all under the direction of a loving Heavenly Father.
We love you and we are proud of you. I choose to celebrate who you are, and not focus on the “change of plans” so much. Coming home a little early will not change the impact you have had on people in Chile. It will not change who you are, and who you have become. Your love for the gospel is needed here, and the Lord will use you, wherever you are. I feel gratitude to the members in Chile for their loving care of you. My heart goes out to your president and his family. I pray for everyone.
I am filled with hope and peace, and it will all work out. A silver lining for me is that I will have you around again to talk to. We’ll enjoy the next pattern in the kaleidoscope soon.
Love,
Mom
There is nothing unique about my experience during this past week of cancellations due to COVID-19. I have watched my email folder fill up with messages from schools and church and made necessary adaptations. The boys are home, except when they go out to work or walk. My life stays largely the same, including my level of fear. During most of my adult life, I have regularly expected to catch each illness, die of sepsis from an abscessed tooth, or choke to death all alone… if a car accident didn’t take me first. I have similar fears for each family member. In other words, welcome to my world, world. The real weight of this time for me rests in the reality that Daniel is thousands of miles away, on another continent.
A few sure things to which I cling:
Our Father in Heaven knows where we are and exactly what we need.
Our Savior Jesus Christ knows the depth and breadth of our feeling.
The Father’s plan is never frustrated.
Angels minister to us.
The Holy Ghost never misspeaks or offends. He brings comfort, power, and direction. What an amazing friend and companion.
The Book of Mormon is dear and true. It has helped me through every challenge, my whole life, and it continues to help me now.
No one is unique in their struggles, and my struggles are not more valid than yours. But Sure Beings and the true things carry every one of us through, whether we have eyes to see or not. This I know.
BYU campus has lost its bustle and busyness. In the Harris Fine Arts Center, production posters have red “Canceled” signs posted on the diagonal. Each canceled event represents thousands of hours of effort, unfulfilled.
Paige and I installed her paintings for display this afternoon, knowing there will be no reception and not much traffic in the building. She painted eight illustrations based on The Secret Garden, and they will be on display for the next two weeks.
In her artist statement, Paige writes, “When I was seven, my grandma gave me a copy of The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. It has been a special story to me ever since. Initially, I loved the book because I dreamed of finding a secret place to make my own like Mary discovers the garden. Now, I recognize its deeper message of healing which feels urgently relevant today. Mary and other characters are healed physically and emotionally as they care for the abandoned garden, let go of fear, overcome selfishness, and develop meaningful relationships with each other. As Mary cultivates interests and a purpose outside of her own self-centered ways, she blooms and grows harmoniously with the garden. We all seek personal healing in some form, and this story brings hope that the healing we seek is possible.”
Some of you have read this blog from its beginning, eleven years ago, when I was in my smug thirties, so self-assured that I considered myself a lifestyle expert. Perhaps you noticed the move to Utah in 2012 was the death of many things, including the belief that I know anything. Over the years, the posts about parenting and education have slowed, and a trend towards more religious thought comes through. I know I am not sophisticated in my understanding. In case you wondered, I do see my limitations in logic, experience, skill, and depth on the topic, but my basic faith is almost all I feel like talking about. Teenagers will do this to you, no matter how much you love them.
To grow up is to give up idols, even the ones that we thought were safe to keep: dependence on a friend, youth, surroundings, talents, processes, or routines. To grow up is to be shaken, again and again, out of comfy shoes to march in new ways. At age 45, growing up is squared shoulders and brisk walks into unfamiliar rooms, sometimes seeing smiles fade with my approach. It’s white knuckles, holding on to a few words that are true. It’s finding meaning in the warmth of the sun hitting my hair as I pray before facing a challenge. It’s a racing pulse while saying the things God puts into the heart. It’s choosing silence in order to snuff out animosity. It’s discerning light, despite people expressing doubt and fear everywhere. It’s goodbye after goodbye. It’s disappointing people. It’s watching myself become ridiculous and also deaf. It’s ignoring the urge to blend in. It’s giving, despite an absence of response or a negative response to the gift.
To write is to give and give. What can I write about? I choose to write what I love. What do I love? The gospel of Jesus Christ. Family. Beautiful things. Hope. Faith. Revelation. Good bread. The struggle to understand truth. The battle for joy.
Thanks for your patience as I figure out how to write these things with greater skill and without the smugness of my thirties or a hint of offering platitudes. Growing up is taking a lot of energy lately. Who knows, maybe I’ll write something here tomorrow, but maybe not for while. I surely don’t know. And I am ok with that.