Hang In There... Kirstin Udall

My first two weeks of summer have been a roller coaster ride to say the least! 

Our family lost my mother-in-law unexpectedly...we were whisked up by grief, sadness, mourning, comfort, smiles, laughs, reconnecting with family and friends... in the midst of this loss, my son Levi received his mission call...Yay! excitement, wonder,...wait did you read Mongolia?  Apprehension, accompanied with slight bouts of worry, fear, and a little more grief, to reluctantly be replaced with small smiles! .  To follow up all of this, my oldest son Jake welcomed a new baby boy into the world in the midst of a wildfire burning all around the Show Low area...worry, concern, excitement, love and joy!  Like I said, a roller coaster!

I don't even feel like I've had a chance to react to any of it.  I am still in a state of shock I guess. Why can't life just slow down for a minute? All of these changes firing off in my life at such a rapid pace has reaffirmed in me the notion that like the Lord, TIME, is a respecter of no one.  It marches on continually with or without us present. Sometimes it seems unfair, that when our life seems chaotic, time presses onward.  So what's the Lord's answer? in the scriptures, we are told to press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, and endure to the end. Surely when life gets to be overwhelming there has to be a special case, or disclaimer, right? So,I checked and reread the chapter to see if the words or scriptures that surround this idea of pressing forward possibly had some exceptions associated with it.  But interestingly enough it didn't say press forward unless you have a loved one die, nor did it say you can pause from pressing forward if your child is being sent to outer Mongolia and you need time to come to grips with it. And it didn't say press forward only on the days you feel are convenient for you, or press forward only if you feel safe. Rather it says "Press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope and a love of God and of all men"... and then follows up with the end part where it says to endure to the end.I tend to associate a negative connotation to the word "endure".  I view it with the definition of suffering or putting up with what's there, or hanging in.  Lately, I have been telling myself, 'Hang in there, just hang in!." My thoughts reminded me of a talk by Kevin Pearson, called Feel Like You're Barely Hanging in There? It said, "Enduring to the end is a hallmark of true discipleship and is essential to eternal life, But when trials and challenges come our way, we are often told to simple "hang in there." Let me be clear: to "hang in there" is not a principle of the gospel. Enduring to the end means constantly coming unto Christ and being perfected in Him."   

So I am currently struggling to pull myself together to press forward. A step on the right path comes from a lesson learned losing my mother-in-law, Mary Lou. She was one of the kindest people I've ever met. She pressed forward through a lot of trials, but also joys.  She was an example of love.  Her passing has reminded me that life is a gift.  I have begun to try and see each day, or each "tomorrow" as a gift from God.  This has shifted my attitude somewhat and I can see the other definition of endure which is to continue on, or live. I am reminded that we are living on "borrowed time". It is God's time and therefore should be valued.  It is up to each of us to make each moment count, and find ways to share God's love in those moments.  He has blessed me with so much! And so I will press forward with a love of God, knowing that he will guide my missionary son, and be there for him when I can't.  I will press forward and love the new grandson that God has trusted to our family!  I will press forward through sorrow, with a knowledge that families can be forever... All of this pressing...enduring...living, gives me a brightness of hope.

Be YOU by Monica Naegle

As I top Grovers hill and pass the Town Of Friendly Neighbors sign, a feeling of melancholy settles in.  Part of me feels like home.  The kind of feeling of walking into Nonie's house and you haven't been there in ages but certain things still feel the same.  There would be Banana bread with butter and cinnamon along with the homemade dried apples brought out to snack on.  Or a meal magically erected from a random supply of country crock and parkay tubs emerged one by one from the refrigerator.   If love was tangible Nonie's house would be how it felt.  The other part of me when topping the hill feels a sadness that I tucked away when I left almost 30 years ago.  A sadness not for me but for those who judged me then but never knew me.  That happens often in a small town where sometimes one thinks their opinions matter more than others feelings. I learned after fighting for many years in my relationship that harboring anger only hurts one person and that's the one it's inside of.  So although to think about them brings back a spark of what I felt then I quickly shuffle that to the back of my mind and smile at the memories that rush in and the lifelong friendships that forged.

I never knew street names existed only directions given using landmarks, buildings and people’s houses.  I lived across from the baptist church.  There was only one so never any confusion there.   Nonie's house was across from the Pioneer school.  I was finding a cousin's house recently and the directions given to me were,  "Turn right on the middle road across from the jr. High and go up by the old barn."  I drove right to it.  I still can remember certain phone numbers and P.O. Boxes when half the time I can't even recite my own cell number.   Just like the sticker I can feel in my toe from walking across the cemetery yesterday.  You can't see it,  you can't even feel it on the outside to get it out.  But every step you know it's there and it reminds you painfully at times.  

Yesterday I was only in town for a few hours. One of those life long friends lost her mother, unexpectedly.  And maybe it was only a few heartfelt hugs I could offer, you show up and you're there if merely just to show you care and offer support because that's what growing up small town is about.  Sitting there in the chapel that I grew up in, singing from the hymn books I held back then.  I realized once again how short and unpredictable life can be.  And how lucky I am to be able to share.  To share my heart, my stories or maybe even just a smile or a hug.  That's what it's all about.  You put yourself out there and you love, grow, influence, cry, laugh, celebrate, make mistakes, be unforgettable, be YOU.

(Monica is the daughter of John Naegle and Marsha Sowder; Her "Nonie" was Bernice Naegle)

The Life You Got by Orlando Mora

Some time ago I was watching a movie about a girl who was given up for adoption. When the girl (now seventeen years old) finds out she was adopted, she sets out to find her birth mother.

When she finally finds her birth mother and confronts her, the mother lies, and says, “I never had children,” completely denying her. The girl, now overwhelmed with feelings of abandonment, is devastated and asks, “Why doesn’t she want me?” A long-time friend, who is an older and very wise woman, responds to her questions: “The miracle is not the life you missed …the miracle is the life you got.”

We have all felt life’s devastating circumstances, and sometimes, it causes us to become bitter. Too often these circumstances can consume our lives and deprive us of happiness and of living life to our true potential.

As the movie progresses, the teenage girl returns to her mother’s office, who is a successful attorney, and she leaves a note with the secretary. When the mother arrives at the office, she receives the note and sits at her desk to read it. When the writing is revealed it reads, “I forgive you,” and the mother begins to weep in regret.

Don’t waste your life in anger and resentment wondering why things happened to you…that is not your purpose in life…God has an awesome plan for you…Find it…Live your life to the fullest. “The miracle is the life you got.”

The Elm Principle By: J Brown

There are certain trees in my life that feel like close friends––none are an elm. Elm trees invoke strong emotions in St. Johns. Aside from the great American Elm (now a stump) in front of the Elm Motel, the emotions are usually not of pride, love, or admiration. I am talking about the invasive variety––the Siberian Elm. My house is surrounded by a large Siberian Elm forest (behind Dr. Platt’s dental office). I have skipped planting a garden the past two years, because my first garden here was a failure. The corn rows looked like a mathematically inconsistent bar graph––up and down. The theory is that the elm roots are reaching far under the garden, and slurping up needed nutrients and water. These elms have the ability to completely take over a yard, break-up foundations, and clog drain pipes. A freshly cut trunk today is an elm bush by next spring. However, because of the hard work my grandfather made in clearing some of these areas, regular maintenance would be sufficient, and not that difficult. Unfortunately, “regular” is a concept I regularly forget to employ; or everyone’s favorite phrase, “I don’t have time.” The Elm Principle is about priorities, and how life’s problems are often the result of not seeing clearly what things we can change and what things we should take in stride. Going to work “on the ranch” often meant going around the corner to do yard work at Grandpa Brown’s house (now Norman’s). On one particular day we were tasked with digging up the sewer line because a plumber’s snake and a bottle of Drano were no match to this backed-up pipe. I was astonished at the discovery we made. Little elm roots, forming a solid cylinder over 10 feet long, had worked themselves into the pipe through a hairline crack. I could not stop gawking at the tube-snake of roots, and wondering how it all happened. Grandpa didn’t seem that impressed, and prodded me (a nice way to put it) to get back to work. We purchased our house and property from my grandfather’s estate while he lived at Hinkson’s battling mobility issues and the onset of dementia. His handiwork and cultivation skills are evidenced everywhere on the property: 2 garden plots, grapes, fruit trees, cottonwoods, willows, golden locusts, ornamental grasses, coniferous shrubs surrounding the house, a rose garden, 5 different coniferous windbreaks of different varieties, 4 sheds, 2 large chain-link dog pens, various flower beds, and interestingly, cultivated stands of elm trees. Unlike me, he never skipped planting a full garden or two. Like most new owners of a home, I had questions about the house and yard: “Where is the water shut-off valve?” or “How does the sprinkler system work?” But the question that nagged at me the most: “Why did Grandpa leave so many elms?” During one of our last conversations, I finally asked him about the elms. After his meditative silence became uncomfortable, I interjected with my own impromptu theory: “Was it because you wanted to have the benefits of large trees until your other trees grew up to take their place?” More silence…but this time he made that click sound with his mouth when he’s thinking about something deeply. Finally, he answered, “uh huh,” with a nod, but his gaze and attention were already somewhere else. I realize now my motivation for the question was impure. My question was a criticism. The elms were a tangible representation of the stress, real and perceived, from feeling inadequate as an employee, a father, a husband, a son, or a grandson. So I resented the elms, which unfortunately led to resenting my grandpa. The spring cleaning to-do list was ambitious this year. In fact, most of the items were just roll-overs from years past. But this year I was armed with a new chain saw. Number one on the list: eliminate elm trees! In the area around a chain-link dog pen I soon found out that my chain saw was useless. As the trees have grown wider they have absorbed the chain-links into their bark. Making it too dangerous to run a chainsaw through them. I started to question (criticize) why anyone would use live trees for poles or why anyone would even want a dog! Bolt-cutters were needed to separate the fence from the trees. Frustrated, I feverishly slammed the handles together to clip one of the thick wires. My left hand was positioned such that I smashed one of my fingers between the handle and the tree. The pain rifled through my body. I dropped to my knees while squeezing my pulsating finger, put my face in the dirt, and let out––not more curses––but tears. The tears soon became sobs as the following questions pulsated my mind: “Why is this task so important? Will it bring you peace? Is your heart at war?” With my face in the dirt, I was awakened to my guilt. Grandpa had known for a long time, and I suspect he was still trying to teach me. There is no end to projects, or problems or even elms; elimination of them is an illusion, even a lie. Jesus told His Disciples of the great calamities and sorrow that would precede His second coming, but He counseled, “see that ye be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass.” He then used a tree (fig) to teach how to accept these things. Jesus said when the branch starts to put forth leaves “ye know that summer is nigh” (Matt. 24:32). In other words: when it’s summertime, there’s no point to complain about the heat. Soon after Grandpa died last Fall, I scoured through my letters, pictures, and journals for things about him. I didn’t have much, and letting go was harder than I anticipated. I finally found a letter he had sent me while I was on my mission, which included black and white photos of the Gaertner family he had baptized. They were the first family to join the church in the city of Ponta Grossa. Grandpa and I had served our missions in that same Brazilian city exactly 50 years apart from each other. When I visited Rosaldo Gaertner, the stake patriarch of one of the two stakes in that city, he showed me the same black and white photos of Grandpa hanging on his wall. Along with the reminder of our Brazil connection, the letter included the following counsel: “It is easy to get discouraged and then get all enthused. It is harder, but more important, to stay on a more even level, taking things in stride.”

 Other things I have come to learn from the Elm:

• -Shade from an elm feels just as good as shade from any other tree. 
• -The elm root system protects it and makes it everlasting.
•  -Elms block St. Johns wind, and dampen traffic noise from the highway.
•  -The elm prefers lots of sunlight, and poor soil that drains well (aka St. Johns). 
• -Elms create a private forest right in the middle of town.
•  -The elm forest is an imagination heaven for my kids. 
•  -The elm seeds can be roasted and served in fancy restaurants (Forage).
•  -Elms are the preferred tree for Japanese Bonzai artists.
•  -Grandpa Brown would likely say, “An elm tree is better than no tree.”