For All Seasons

"I cannot even imagine where I would be today were it not for that handful of friends who have given me a heart full of joy." 

Charles R. Swindoll

Sure, I can do it alone. But I'm awfully glad I don't have to. I have encountered so many people in my life who make it easier and more fun. All kinds of friends, with all kinds of attributes make for a great mosaic. In my mosaic is a friend...

Who makes me feel needed. She has a way of reaching out. 

Who makes me feel appreciated. He makes a big deal out of the little things I do. 

Who makes me feel cared for. She fights with me over taking out my garbage, and besides I can see it in her eyes. 

Who makes me feel strong. He always sees the best in me. 

Who makes me feel playful. She is. Together, we are.

Who makes me feel valued. He compliments me freely and matches his actions to his words.

Who makes me feel loved and trusted. She listens and feels with me, and allows me to do the same for her. She feeds me, body and soul. She is the best kind of friend-therapist.

Who makes me feel clarity. He reads me with about 96.4 percent accuracy, and I read him right back. He let me see his heart. He knows what to do when the chips are down.

Who helps me see what's worth the fight. She asks tough questions and pushes me to analyze my mind-set.

Who makes me feel empowered to change. He says it like it is when no one else will.

Who makes me laugh. Her humor and perspective on life is refreshing.

Who makes me feel like a woman. Because he isn't scared that I am, nor does he think that independence and womanhood are in conflict.

Who makes me feel validated. She is all empathy, and even threatened to hit someone in the face for me once. (She didn't.)

Who makes me feel safe. He takes care of me in little ways even when I'm too independent to ask, but I'm not so independent as to not appreciate it.

Who makes me feel capable. She trusts my intellect and my friendship. It's mutual.

Who makes me feel confident. He saw my heart and taught me to believe.

Who makes me feel humbled. She showed me what faith through the fight looks like.

Who makes me feel intuitive. His reactions are 98.7 percent predictable.

Who makes me feel adventurous. She and I adventure together.

Who makes me feel special. Sometimes I can still make him laugh with a just a look.

So you see, a friend for each season. Find yourself--you're there, I promise.

Adventuring

I love adventure. Over the holidays, my two-and-a-half year old niece reminded me of an adventurer I loved as a child. Her name is Isabel, and she is the creation of Ogden Nash. His words, "Isabel, Isabel didn't worry. Isabel didn't scream or scurry," became my childhood mantra. Today my adventuring has less to do with childhood nightmares than it did then, but all the same, I try to look adventure in the eye and face it with a smile (or maybe a smirk).

The Adventures of Isabel
Ogden Nash

Isabel met an enormous bear,
Isabel, Isabel, didn’t care;
The bear was hungry, the bear was ravenous,
The bear’s big mouth was cruel and cavernous.
The bear said, Isabel, glad to meet you,
How do, Isabel, now I’ll eat you!
Isabel, Isabel, didn’t worry.
Isabel didn’t scream or scurry.
She washed her hands and she straightened her hair up,
Then Isabel quietly ate the bear up.

Once in a night as black as pitch
Isabel met a wicked old witch.
the witch’s face was cross and wrinkled,
The witch’s gums with teeth were sprinkled.
Ho, ho, Isabel! the old witch crowed,
I’ll turn you into an ugly toad!
Isabel, Isabel, didn’t worry,
Isabel didn’t scream or scurry,
She showed no rage and she showed no rancor,
But she turned the witch into milk and drank her.

Isabel met a hideous giant,
Isabel continued self reliant.
The giant was hairy, the giant was horrid,
He had one eye in the middle of his forehead.
Good morning, Isabel, the giant said,
I’ll grind your bones to make my bread.
Isabel, Isabel, didn’t worry,
Isabel didn’t scream or scurry.
She nibbled the zwieback that she always fed off,
And when it was gone, she cut the giant’s head off.

Isabel met a troublesome doctor,
He punched and he poked till he really shocked her.
The doctor’s talk was of coughs and chills
And the doctor’s satchel bulged with pills.
The doctor said unto Isabel,
Swallow this, it will make you well.
Isabel, Isabel, didn’t worry,
Isabel didn’t scream or scurry.
She took those pills from the pill concocter,
And Isabel calmly cured the doctor.

Isabel once was asleep in bed
When a horrible dream crawled into her head.
It was worse than an dinosaur, worse than a shark,
Worse than an octopus oozing in the dark.
Boo! said the dream, with a dreadful grin,
I’m going to scare you out of your skin!
Isabel, Isabel, didn’t worry,
Isabel didn’t scream or scurry.
Isabel had a cleverer scheme;
She just woke up and fooled that dream.

Whenever you meet a bugaboo
Remember what Isabel used to do.
Don’t scream when the bugaboo says Boo!
Just look it in the eye and say Boo to you!
That’s how to banish a bugaboo;
Isabel did it and you can too!
Boooooo To You!”

Heroes, Part I

I've decided to start a series of blog posts about some of my personal heroes. First up: my dad.

My dad currently teaches Sunday School in his local unit of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A couple of weeks ago he apparently ended up telling a story that has become something of a family legend--the time he threatened to tie his youngest sister to a tree and light a fire under her, and then actually did it just to prove he would. According to his version of the story, he put the fire out quickly and let her go, but she swears the neighbors had to rescue her. After the meeting, one of the sisters present turned to my mom and said, "Only someone as gentle and soft-spoken as your husband could tell a story like that in Sunday School." Yes, that's my dad: gentle, refined, and dignified, with his own kind of flare. 

He teaches university-level accounting. I love meeting his students and hearing their take on my dad. More than one has said, "Your dad is the man!" I always hear about his sense of humor, and had one student tell me about what he described as a “private fan club” in one corner of the lecture hall where he and other students sat listening eagerly for my dad's jokes. Once I had the opportunity to travel to London with a study abroad program Dad directed. I asked a couple of the students why they had come. The answer? "Because of your dad." One student told me, "He is one of the only professors who takes the time to get to know his students personally and to let them get to know him personally too. He's real."

I've watched my dad stubbornly do what is right, even when doing what is right creates challenges. I've seen him rise up to defend my mom. I've seen his humility when he is shown an error (although I have rarely seen him make a mistake and sometimes I wonder how he could be so infallible). I have watched him make endless sacrifices for his family, always putting us above worldly gain or personal comfort. He has fished and cooked and played tennis and racquetball to be with us. He has discarded any hobbies that don't help him to spend more time with us. I see him feel pain in two cases: when someone in the family hurts, and when someone in the family pulls away. In his own way he fights to keep the family close, yet he patiently allows us to choose. He has a way of helping each family member feel needed for his/her individual gifts. 

One of the sweetest things I know is watching my dad’s tenderness with my mom, seeing his love for her, his willingness to serve her, and his desire to be close to her. I watch him care for her comfort and her needs. I’ve seen him do so much to care for my handicapped brother so she doesn’t have to. I've watched my dad worry over my brother, but I've also seen the delight in my dad's eyes when my brother is feeling good and they sit together and laugh and laugh and laugh. For those precious moments, when he can make my brother laugh, the worry fades from his eyes. Dad loves playing grandpa to my sister's kids, too. It’s because of him that when my nephew was talking to my sister about how great it will be to be a grandpa one day, he said excitedly, "And I will have no hair!" 

My dad taught me about putting God first. When I was young, we lived eight hours from the nearest LDS temple. Once a month, our local church units would coordinate to rent a tour bus. We would leave on a Thursday night, drive through the night, arrive about 5:00 in the morning, spend most of the day in the temple, and arrive back late Friday night. I remember him telling me once that some parents didn't encourage their youth to go on these trips because it required missing a day of school. As serious as my dad was about our academics, to him there was no question about what mattered more. Consequently, we went about nine out of twelve times in a year. I'll never forget those trips, nor the love that I gained for the House of the Lord because of them.

At 21, I decided to spend a year and a half serving as a full-time missionary. Before I left, my family and I met with a local ecclesiastical leader who asked each member of my family, both older and younger to offer me a piece of scripture-based advice. This must have been instinctive for Dad, because he always used the scriptures to teach us. Dad told me how during the last part of his own mission, he had felt inspired to do certain things, and how he proceeded without understanding why he was doing what he was doing. It wasn't until 25 years later that he found out that his efforts had been what allowed The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to receive official recognition in what was then Yugoslavia. He advised me to listen to and obey the Holy Spirit immediately. He told me that it doesn't matter if I understand why at the time or if I ever understand why. "Just do it, and do it now," he said. 

When I left for my missionary service, my parents and grandparents took me to the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah. We attended a brief meeting before it was time to say goodbye. I love my family with every inch of my soul, and although I knew it would be another 18 months before I saw them again, I knew I was in the right place. I knew we'd be in touch every week throughout my mission. I knew that Father in Heaven would watch over them. I was so excited to be a missionary and to serve the God I love that I couldn't stop beaming. When the meeting was over, I turned and hugged my grandparents, then my mom, and then turned to hug my dad. When I saw tears streaming down his cheeks, I couldn't help it. Tears began streaming down my cheeks, too. I think I've seen my dad cry one or two other times in my life. I can think of only one time in particular. Seeing his depth of feeling for me, combined with his joy for what I was about to begin touched my heart in a way that I will always remember. 

My dad is a family man who knows what matters most. He loves the scriptures and lives and teaches by them. His example is one of service without show and of doing things right. He is stoic but candid. He is strong and gentle. He is intelligent, kind, dignified, spiritual, dependable, and wise. When asked, I have always been proud to say, "Yes, that's my dad!”

2 Timothy 1:7

"For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."

These things must be connected. It must be the power of God and of the Atonement of His Son that allows us to give and receive love and that love that allows us to have the steadiness of a sound mind. Without love, fear enters, and we begin to entwine ourselves in endless doubts. Without love, we dip into the shadows and our minds are obscured from the true nature of things. We fail to see who we truly are, what our relationship with God is, and how we fit in His plan.

So when you find someone who helps you feel soundness of mind, follow the chain backwards and I suspect that the rest will be in place. Love, power, and faith, all given as gifts from God. His gifts are good and lasting--the best gifts. His hand is forever present.