Finding Peace

by Kari Diane Pike

The tight grip of the blood pressure cuff released with a hiss, accompanied by the tap-tap-tap of the keyboard the nurse used to type the data into her computer. Two minutes to go until the next reading. I shifted under the hook-and-loop straps that crossed my chest, hips and ankles to prevent me from falling if I passed out during the test.

Nurse Rylee looked over her shoulder at me. "Are you doing okay? Let me know if you start to feel light-headed."

"I'm okay. Just tired of standing here." The thirty-minute standing part of the tilt table test was almost over. If I fainted, they would stop the test. If nothing happened, they would give me a dose of nitroglycerin and make me stand there another thirty minutes to see if they could recreate the syncope I had experienced at home a few weeks earlier.

Only thirty seconds to go...oh. Whoa. Heat spread out from the core of my body - as though someone had ignited a gas burner - through my limbs and up toward my face. "Ummm...something's happening. Oh, my head." My head felt like the hot air balloon I had once seen being prepared for take off. My peripheral vision started to go gray and then, just as quickly, someone turned off the switch. The heat drained from my face and limbs and my head felt heavy and dull, but I didn't pass out.

Rylee took my blood pressure and watched the activity on the EKG. "Well, your blood pressure definitely spiked there. But you stayed conscious. That's good. We just have to wait for the other nurse to come in before we start the next part of the test. So tell me. What do you do for a living?"

I shifted my weight from foot to foot trying to get the circulation back in my tired feet. "I have been a stay-at-home mom for thirty-eight years. Although I did do day care in my home for twenty-something of those years and have done of lot of free lance writing. I also teach childbirth ed and am a certified doula."

"Oh. That must be it." Rylee opened the privacy curtain to let the other nurse know we were waiting for her. "You just have something so calming about you and I've been trying to figure it out."

At that moment, the other nurse and a PA walked into the testing area and handed me a tiny white pill to place under my tongue, preventing me from further conversation with Rylee.

The rest of the test was unpleasant, but uneventful. During the drive home I told my husband about Rylee's comment and how I wanted talk with Rylee some more and tell her how I had prayed for peace of mind and how I knew that no matter what happened, or what the test results were, everything would turn out okay.

Later that afternoon, I sat down to study and prepare the following week's seminary lessons. We are getting ready to study Philippians 4 where I find great reassurance when I read verses 6-9, and 13.

Reading those verses again, I pondered on what it really means to have the "peace of God". I went on a scripture search. Isaiah 52:7 and Mosiah 15: 16-18 teach about how Christ redeemed us from our transgressions and our responsibility to publish peace. I asked myself and then in prayer asked Heavenly Father, "What does it mean to publish peace?"

Christ is the Prince of Peace. As part of the armor of God, we are admonished to have our feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace. We are comforted and strengthened by "the peace and power of [His] Spirit that will flow unto [us]" (Doctrine and Covenants 11:8). The Lord is the founder of peace. He has power over death - both physical and spiritual. There is hope.

It was during this point in my study that I realized that what I really wanted/needed to know is what is peace? So I looked up peace in the dictionary. Then I looked up the root of the word "peace".

"Peace" has the Hebrew root [slm], which means to be "complete or whole" or to "live well". Deeper digging - root verb shalom meaning be be "complete, perfect and full". "Wholeness, health, peace, welfare, safety, soundness, tranquility, prosperity, perfectness, fullness, rest, harmony, the absence of discord."

Another source mentioned a word the Kekchi Indians of Guatemala have that comes close to the meaning of shalom that defines peace as "quiet goodness".

All of this pondering on peace teaches me that peace is active and vibrant. When we do as Paul taught and "in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God", He blesses us with the "peace of God which passeth all understanding" and guards our hearts and minds from needless fear and worry (Philippians 4:6-7), because  we "can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth [us]" (Philippians 4:13).

Elder Richard G. Scott taught, "As you exercise that agency and include [Father in Heaven] in every aspect of your daily life, your heart will begin to fill with peace, buoyant peace. That peace will focus an eternal light on your struggles. It will help you to manage those challenges from an eternal perspective" (Make the Exercise of Faith Your First Priority," Ensign, Nov. 2014, 93).

To publish peace is to testify of Christ, not just vocally, but in the way you live your life every day. Love, live and serve to the best of your ability the way Christ did, knowing that He loves each of us and that He is always with us. We can feel that inward peace, wholeness, and completeness that living after the manner of Christ brings, even during difficult challenges. Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, it will all work out. I hope and pray that Rylee finds the peace she is looking for.

Life is magnificent.

Some Talents Are Overrated

by Kari Diane Pike

A couple of weeks ago I discovered a hidden talent. My devoted eternal companion regrets not recording the event. He claims I executed a faint that would make my corset-wearing Victorian grandmothers proud. What can I say? After nearly forty years, my man can still make me swoon.

It all started when I walked into his office to discuss our plans for the evening. I stepped through the door, took one look at the love of my life and the whole world started to spin. My heart skipped a beat or three, my peripheral vision disappeared, and everything started to turn gray.

"Doug, I think I'm going to pass out."

He swiveled his chair around to look at me. "What?"

"I...I..." All I remember after that is wanting to sit down before I fell to the floor. What seemed to me to be just a moment later, I woke up with Doug kneeling beside me and lifting my head. "I'm awake. I'm awake. I'm okay."

But I wasn't okay. When I sat up, my heart raced so fast I couldn't count the beats. I tried to get to my feet, but even with Doug's help, I couldn't move. The heat in my face and the pressure in my head made me think of one of those old Disney cartoons where steam comes out of the character's ears.

Doug tried to help me up again. I told him to leave me alone and run across the street to get help from our neighbor the nurse.

He let go of my arm and frowned at me. "I can't leave you here by yourself. What if you pass out again? I'm not going anywhere."

After another minute I caught my breath enough to stand up. "Honey, help me get to the bedroom so I can take my blood pressure. The reading will give us my heart rate." Except it didn't. My heart beat so fast the monitor couldn't read it. I closed my eyes and tried to visualize my heart slowing down, but it continued to race like a locomotive that lost its brakes on a downhill slope. Another minute passed. I tried to lie down, but I couldn't breathe in a prone position. I perched on the edge of the bed. Doug stood next to me and wrapped his arms around me.

I leaned my head against his side and tried to swallow the increasing tide of panic. "Doug. Call 911."

"Let's just get you in the car and take you to the E.R."

"No. If I pass out in the car, you won't be able to help me. If we call the paramedics and they have to transport me, they have the right equipment and know what to do."

Doug grabbed his cell phone and dialed 911.

"911. What is your emergency?"

Doug described our situation to the dispatcher. About the time he gave her our address, my heart rate returned to normal. Just like that - as if nothing had happened. The fire died down, the tracks leveled out, and my sweat covered body shivered in the chill that took place of the heat.

"Doug. Doug. Tell them never mind. I'm okay now. My heart is okay now."

Guess what. Once you call 911, they have to come check things out. There's no such thing as "just kidding" in that kind of situation. While Doug remained on the phone with dispatch, I reclined back onto the bed. I felt so silly when just a couple of minutes later six, not two or three, but SIX firemen came into the room. They looked like they had just stepped off the set of one of those Hallmark romance movies - you know- tall, buff, and ruggedly handsome. If I had been single and thirty years younger I might have been tempted to swoon again.

Anyway...when I started to sit up, those young men ordered me to stay down and asked Doug and I questions while they took my vitals: blood pressure, oxygen levels, heart rate, blood sugar, and temperature.

Everything was back to normal except my blood pressure. Much too high and it had nothing to do with the company in the room.

"Mrs. Pike, we can call an ambulance to transport you to the hospital, or..."

"Actually, I'm okay now." I started to sit up, but they ordered me to stay put again.

"You don't understand. You have two choices. We can call transport, or we can walk you to your car and let your husband take you to the E.R., but you are going to the hospital."

"Oh."

Doug brought me my slippers and with a fireman on each arm and others in front and behind me, I walked out the door to the car. Once they saw me buckled in, they turned things over to Doug and off we headed. The rest of the story is pretty unexciting. When the E.R. doctor asked what happened, Doug told her that I performed the most graceful faint he had every witnessed and wished that he had recorded it. My blood pressure ebbed back toward normal and three hours and several blood tests later, we returned home.

In a couple of weeks I have an appointment with the cardiologist. He wants to see if he can recreate whatever caused me to faint by putting me on a tilt table. I suggested that the Tilt-A-Wheel at the fair would be way more fun and a lot less expensive, but he didn't go for it.

Why tell this story? This experience made me ponder a bit more on my mortality and the ups and downs that make my stomach flip and my heart race. President Gordon B. Hinckley once described life with this quote:

Life is like an old-time rail journey—delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed.
“The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride (“Big Rock Candy Mountains,” Deseret News, 12 June 1973, A4).

What I really want to remember in thanking the Lord for the ride is that each and every day is a gift. Every morning when I wake up, there are new and exciting things ahead. Because of the Savior's Atonement, no matter what happens, everything is going to be okay. No matter how challenging the gift might prove to be, it will all work out.

To quote Elder Jeffrey R. Holland:

... Don’t you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead—a lot of it—...You keep your chin up. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come (General Conference, October, 1999).

During my life's journey, I've learned that the steepest mountains and the harshest of deserts offer the most spectacular vistas - something miraculous and amazing. And while I think the Victorian Era's fascination with fainting was highly overrated, I am grateful for the reminder that Life is Magnificent.

hugs~

Finding Strength

by Kari Diane Pike

When Theresa Sneed introduced me to American Night Writers twenty-one years ago, I had no idea what was in store. Through ANWA I’ve not only had the opportunity to improve my writing skills, but made lifelong friendships. Those friendships have given me strength when I’ve felt weak, courage when I’ve been afraid, and hope when I couldn’t see beyond the challenges.

That’s the biggest reason, when asked by Deb Eaton if I would be willing to step in and serve in the treasurer position, I had to say yes, even though I had zero bookkeeping experience (Don’t worry – I am being trained by highly qualified mentors). Deb’s comment that the experience would look great on my resume may or may not have played a tiny part in my agreeing to give it a try. Of course, there’s also the opportunity to hang out with some pretty amazing ladies behind the scenes and soak in their wisdom and wit. Sometimes they even share chocolate. Was I scared? Definitely. I still am. But I know it will all work out.

The parable of the talents in Matthew 25 is one I have read and pondered on multiple times, but every time I study those words, I gain a new perspective. My most recent encounter came while preparing to teach a seminary lesson. In Matthew 25: 14-30 a wealthy man, before traveling to a far country, gives of his goods to his servants. To the first he gave ten talents, the second, five talents and to the third, one talent – “…to every man according to his several ability.” The rich man then left on his journey and during his absence, the first man took the five talents with which he had been entrusted and “traded with the same and made them five other talents.” The man who had received two talents put them to work and made two more. The third man, afraid of losing what he had received, buried his talent in the earth and did nothing with it (You can also watch a great video portrayal here).

From a lesson I gave last week, I learned that during the time of Christ, one talent equaled about 10,000 denarii (Roman currency) and that a common laborer typically earned one denarius per day. Can you imagine being handed one talent (the equivalent of twenty-seven years of labor) let alone two or even five and being trusted to take care of it for someone?

When the lord of those servants returned to reckon with them, he gave the same response to the first two servants, “Well done thou good and faithful servant,” and made them rulers over many things. Their blessing was the same because they had used their gifts to the best of their abilities and fulfilled their purpose. Even though the third servant didn’t lose the talent his lord had given him, it was taken away from him because he let fear keep him from using the gift and increasing it.

Elder Sterling W. Sill of the Seventy said, “[The third servant’s] loss was not because he did anything wrong, but rather because his fear had prevented him [from] doing anything at all. Yet this is the process by which most of our blessings are lost…When one fails to use the muscles of his arm he loses strength….When we don’t develop our abilities, we lose our abilities. When the people in past ages have not honored the Priesthood, it has been taken from them. Neither spiritual, mental, nor physical talents develop while they are buried in the earth” (The Law Of the Harvest [1963], 375).

Another little story taken from the Savior’s life helped me better understand what it can mean to not be afraid to share what gifts we have, as insignificant as that contribution may seem.

When Jesus learned about the death of his beloved friend and cousin, John the Baptist, He crossed the Sea of Galilee and took Himself “into a desert place apart” (Matthew 14: 13-21). When the people discovered where He had gone, they followed Him. Even in His own time of sorrow, Jesus took compassion on them and healed their sick. The hour became late and being “in a desert place” there wasn’t a place close by where the multitude could find food. Andrew told Jesus that there was a young lad with five barley loaves and two small fishes, “But what they among so many?”

The Savior instructed his disciples to bring the bread and fishes to Him. He gave thanks for the food, blessed it and brake it and gave it to His disciples to distribute among the people. Everyone all ate until they were filled and twelve baskets full were left over.

In the past, I’ve always focused on the compassion the Savior had and the miracle He performed in providing for some five thousand people. I hadn’t thought about the young boy giving all he had, even though his offering seemed meager and wholly inadequate. And then the Savior used His power to make the young boy’s sacrifice enough and to spare – a wondrous miracle indeed.

The Savior has given me gifts according to my abilities. Every talent carries tremendous value, but I don't need to be afraid to use them because I know more than ever that the Savior accepts whatever I can give, no matter how insignificant my offering may seem. All He asks is that I try. He makes my effort enough.  He makes me enough. Through His atoning sacrifice He cleanses, heals, enables, redeems, inspires, strengthens, and helps me become what He created me to be.

Life is magnificent. 

hugs~