Christmas Blessings

by Kari Diane Pike

Having grown up in the snowy mountains of northwest Montana, I always struggle to get into "Christmas mode" without some snow and ice. Thank goodness for music and cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies and yummy cookie traditions.

This year has proven to be particularly difficult. Honestly, between health challenges and the recent loss of family members and close friends, I couldn't find it in me to drag out the tree and the boxes and the strings of lights. My husband knew it was bad when, after wandering a bookstore for nearly an hour with the intent of purchasing Christmas gifts, I turned to him and motioned toward the door.

"Get me out of here." 

"But you didn't buy anything. Where else you would like to go?" Doug put one arm around my shoulders and pushed the exit door open with the other. A cool breeze swirled through the door and I shivered. The ache in my heart and the fatigue of a long day made it difficult to walk let alone think and make decisions. All I wanted was my bed.

"Can we just go to church Sunday, sing a few Christmas hymns and listen to a couple of talks and go home and go to bed? Can we just call off all the celebrations this year? I can't do it."

So home we went. A little chocolate and good night's rest helped restore my mood for a day or two. When I realized I had 9 days until Christmas and I hadn't even started shopping yet, I kind of freaked out. 

Then Tuesday happened. 

There's nothing like a little "could have been deadly" accident to bring the important things back into perspective. Doug and Amy were driving north from Gilbert to Prescott Valley on I-17. Just before the Pinnacle Peak road exit on the north end of Phoenix, the semi in front of them changed lanes, revealing a hand truck in the road. With no time to react, they hit the hand truck and lost part of the front bumper along with a parking light and damage to cowling around the tire and some sensors. But no one got hurt!!! And the car was driveable.

The highway patrolman asked if they saw what they hit, because all he could find was a couple of wheels. The hand truck had disintegrated. We have insurance and they will cover a rental car while repairs are made. The mechanics couldn't believe everyone walked away uninjured. We are blessed beyond measure.

Tomorrow the grandchildren are spending the day here decorating cookies and having fun. We will go caroling and play games Saturday evening. Sunday we will change up our traditional Christmas Eve trip to the zoo and act out a family version of the nativity. Family members will perform musical/reading numbers and we will enjoy lots of food and laughter. There might even be a few gifts exchanged...(assuming I can get off the computer and go shopping!)

It's going to be a magnificent Christmas.

I hope your holidays are full of love and joy. Merry Christmas to all and a very happy New Year.

hugs~

Dealing With Writer's Block

I knew this would eventually happen.  After five years of constant obsession over writing, editing, and improving my craft, I knew I would eventually hit a wall.  And, in true Susan Allred fashion, this writer's block is spectacular. Not spectacular as in, "this is so much fun I must do this every winter." More like "is this ever going to end? I have stories to write this century."

And it hasn't been just novel writing. The inspiration for our mystery game business has dried up, I have difficulty editing for more than fifteen minutes at a time, and I posted all of 238 words for NaNoWriMo in the month of November. Sigh. That's still 238 more words than I wrote in October.

Every day I sit at my computer with a list of different topics I could be writing about. And every day, I stare at a blank screen. I've plotted my Tim Reaper book twice, hoping to get the creative juices flowing. I've read other author's books. I've listened to a variety of audible books. I consider story lines as I'm driving and falling asleep, and have post-it notes all around my work space with ideas and prompts to motivate me to work.

I pray. I read my scriptures. Yesterday I went to the temple in hopes of finding the peace I need to begin working again. This blog is the closest thing to writing I've done all month. I'll take it.

As I struggle to find the creativity I need to push through this quagmire of creative mud, I'm reminded of those in the scriptures who endured hardships much more difficult than mine for years, sometimes decades, before finding relief.  I'm reminded that this minor struggle is a twinkle in the fabric of time, and it will pass. 

Until then, I take a deep breath, set my stories aside, and focus on my family during this holiday season.  Maybe what my mind is really telling me is that I need to spend more time with the little ones while they're still in my home. Make new Christmas memories, bake cookies, visit friends and loved ones, and serve those around me. 

What is a few months of writer's block if it means strengthening family and relationships and truly celebrating the birth of our Savior? So, I guess for now, I will continue to plot my stories while they're fresh in my head. And the true writing will begin in January. Sigh.  This too shall pass.

Trying to Catch Up

by Marsha Ward @MarshaWard

Wow! I have to apologize. I've missed a bunch of blog dates. The last one I did was way back on November 8, when I announced that I was beginning an online workshop. Nope, I wasn't starting up a new project, I was commencing a course of study under the able oversight of someone who is a much more experienced writer than I am. And, well, I fell off the earth for a while, learning to write.

Then, Thanksgiving and Christmas happened. And planning for a new year for the kids' department at church. And ZooLights.

So here I am, back in the land of the living. To alert you beforehand, I've signed up for another workshop, which takes place in March and part of April. I suspect it will be even more brutal. I'm just sayin'.

And taxes.

I can't forget that the workshop will happen right in the Heart of Tax Season. I'm not a tax preparer or anything like that. I'm only a humble taxpayer, with a self-run business. Sometimes it gets complicated.

I've planned ahead for this writing and publishing year, too, and have high expectations that I will write and publish six works this year. Good luck to me!

I'm working on the first project now. It's a non-fiction guide to a certain aspect of indie writing that I hope will interest writers who look toward becoming independently publishing authors.

I likely won't make my first projected release date on the book, but I set the date before reality dawned big and bright and I realized that what should have been a small, simple project has expanded into a big, complex one. Why? Because I looove to explain things, and the topic demands some explanation to make things crystal clear.

I've got some fun fiction projects coming this year, too. I'm hoping to make one shorter than I at first envisioned, so readers can more quickly learn about the genesis of the Owen Family. We shall see what comes of that wish.

Enough about that. How was your day?

Is it 2017 Yet?

Elisha and Jason Lee, Married 12/17/16
at the Spokane, WA temple

I want to apologize for missing my last two blog posts.  I don't know about you, but these last few months have been crazy, busy for us. I came home from the NW Retreat at the end of October and kicked it into overdrive.

Somehow, I managed to find time to work, finish NaNoWriMo in November, have Thanksgiving (that's the holiday with a turkey dinner, right?), taking my daughter through the temple for the first time, plan for and have a wedding the week before Christmas, THEN have Christmas, followed by sending my husband and son off on their "Christmas gift": a trip to Denver to watch the Broncos play football.

I'm sitting in my chair, nearly comatose, my house looking like a tornado hit it, and a pile of un-finished writing assignments and tasks screaming for my attention. My neglected to-do list is pages long, and I'm ready for it to be over already.  Much like 2016.

And although 2016 had many incredible highlights, I am ready to move forward onto bigger and better things.

This year I hope to focus more on my health, strengthening my family, and carving out more time for writing.  In 2017 my youngest daughter will get baptized and my oldest son will be a senior in high school.  This will be the year I hope to have my first book published - either traditionally or independently.

When I look back on 2016, I'm tired; weary from the struggle of growth and endurance.  But when I focus on the next year, my spirit lifts, and I envision so many hopes for the future, and all it's possibilities.

I hope that as we say good-bye to the old, and usher in the new, we can take a moment to reflect on the lessons we learned, the blessings we received, and the lives that we touched.  May you find strength and peace in last year, while experiencing giddy anticipation for what lies ahead.

Happy New year everyone!  I'll see you next year!

Seek the Light

One of my favorite scriptures is Moses 6:63 “... and behold, all things have their likeness, and all things are created and made to bear record of me, both things which are temporal and things which are spiritual; things which are in the heavens above and things which are on the earth, and things which are in the earth, and things which are under the earth, both above and beneath: all things bear record of me.”

Basically, this says the whole world is full of visual aids, things that symbolize Christ and his gospel of peace.  At this season, when the world is at its darkest, I crave light the most. Here in the Pacific Northwest, we’re losing seven minutes four seconds every day...not that I’m counting, mind you...and I seek light! The electric bill skyrockets, I light candles, and I seek Christmas lights wherever I can find them.

Giving and serving others in tiny ways doesn’t take much time, yet  the light it causes in your life and theirs is magnificent.

Seek the light in whatever form you can, and Merry Christmas!

More Christmas Memories

By Kari Diane Pike

Deb and Terri's posts stirred up all kinds of thoughts about past Christmases. I dug out a few of my journals and wandered through some of those memories. Wow. I wish I had been better about writing in my journals in my younger years. The pages that I did manage to fill over the years contain experiences that I thought I would never forget - I even state how I would never forget - and yet, I have almost no memory of  many of those events.

What I do remember about Christmas during my childhood is the anticipation. The closer the big day came, the longer time took to pass. I thought  Christmas would never arrive. Mom would tell us that the sooner we went to bed, the sooner the next day would get here. Going to bed was easy. Falling asleep, not so much.

I wanted to go to sleep. I really did. But I wasn't tired. So I threw the bed covers off and stretched out on my back. I kicked my legs as hard and fast as I could, hoping to tire myself out. Mom would hear all the activity and yell at me to settle down. I could see the Christmas tree lights glowing through the curtains hanging over the French doors that separated my bedroom from the living room, so I started counting how many times the green lights flashed, then the white ones, then the red ones. Lights turned to stars and the next thing I knew, it was Christmas morning. 

I also remember wishing that every day could be Christmas and how I expressed that thought out loud. One grown up who heard my wish crushed my heart when he told me that if every day were Christmas, then no one would care any more and then there would never be Christmas again. My adult self understands what that person tried to teach, but I still remember how sad I felt at his words.

The more mature me has learned that I can make my childhood wish come true.  Every day can be Christmas when I remember Jesus Christ and follow in His footsteps. Every day that I choose right over wrong, defend the weak, mourn with those who mourn, and comfort a weary heart, I give a gift to Christ.

Through the years, our children have asked, "Mom, what do you want for Christmas?" My number one wish has always been, "I want my children to be happy." 

3 John 1:4 - "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth." 

This scripture expresses my heart's desire. When I see my children and grandchildren walk in truth and light I know that no matter what circumstances they might find themselves facing, my children can feel joy and peace in their hearts and live "after the manner of happiness." 

I know how much joy the gospel has brought to my life. It's the kind of joy that sustains me through tough times and opens my eyes to the Lord's tender mercies. The light of the gospel shows me how to truly be happy. Heavenly Father gave us His Only Begotten Son who gave us the greatest gift of all. 

Jesus Christ is the Son of God. He lived on the earth. He performed miracles. He loved. He suffered, bled and died, just for you and me. And then He rose again. He broke the bands of death so that we, too, might one day live again and return to live in our Father's presence. Gordon B. Hinckley taught, "There would be no Christmas if there had not been Easter."

I hope all of you find peace and joy this Christmas and throughout the coming year. Life truly is magnificent - but we have to decide to make it that way.

Merry Christmas!

hugs~

Best Christmas Present Ever

Best Christmas Present Ever

Our family begins asking, “What would you like for Christmas this year?” in October. Several years ago, I wanted to head them off.

Our kids were all in their twenties; students, newlyweds, one with a young child, two pregnant, busy, all underemployed in various stages of poverty, but each with a giving heart. They’d want to give me a Christmas present; gift giving is a big part of the season’s fun. Telling them, “Don’t get anything for me” would hurt their feelings. Besides, I like gifts!

I don’t need more Stuff, and at this stage of life, if I see something I’d like to have, I buy it myself. What could they give me that I’d really treasure, not tuck away on a shelf? If I could come up with a wonderful, meaningful, inexpensive gift, I’d be happy; bonus points if it was a long-term idea.

I pondered for days. 

What do I value? I value my family, the Savior, travel, conversation, and the power of Story. We’d taught our young ones to tell stories since they were tiny; it's part of the fabric of our family. Stories bind us together and set us apart as people. You don’t see raccoons sitting around telling tales, do you?

That was my answer: I wanted stories! I pondered for days, and settled on these criteria: I wanted a story from each adult and literate grandchild (one, at that stage). I clearly said, “This is not a let-the-wife-handle-it-type gift.” The story was to be non-fiction, preferably a memory from their own life, it could include me, but didn’t have to, and it was to be long enough to properly to tell the story, whether that be eight pages or six lines.

In October, I sent out a mass email to all of our children and their spouses, detailing the gift I wanted. Just think, all they had to do was write a story! It’s the perfect gift---no cost, except their time, no stress or shopping, and it’d be something I would cherish. My heart smiled as I imagined reading stories for Christmas, my birthday, Mother’s Day, and onward.

I was excited to hear their responses. Instead, my email was utterly ignored. Over the weeks approaching Christmas, my broad hints were brushed aside with a sighed, “Oh, Mom, really.” My heart sunk, resigned to another lovely throw pillow or bowl.

On Christmas morning, tears flowed, but not from disappointment. While I thought my kids were ignoring me, they were conspiring. A daughter bought plastic sheet protectors. A daughter-in-law was tasked with designing a scrap-book-type cover for the optimistic-sized loose-leaf bind my son was ordered to purchase. All of them wrote a story, just for me!

The stories gave insight into family members. I learned why a daughter-in-law’s family values education so strongly, and I could feel her shock in finding her dad’s 8^th grade report card with a C+ on it, tucked in with his baseball award. Another daughter-in-law detailed the day of her engagement. I hadn’t known my son proposed to her on a cliff. As he knelt, he “accidentally” dropped the ring box into the valley a thousand feet below. As I read, I could imagine her scream echoing across the canyon, and her relief when he laughed and pulled the glittery ring from his pocket.  

My five-year-old granddaughter dictated her story, and drew a delightful, wobbly illustration of the stuffed felt chickens I had helped her sew the previous month. A son-in-law wrote of a camping trip on a sailboat in Alaska with his eleven siblings... and no running water. My daughter wrote of the things she had learned from me, her mother, and her hopes of being a good mother to her unborn child. Our son wrote of the joy he felt teaching the gospel and bolstering the sagging spirits of discouraged missionaries; in his mission, he was known as a “fixer.”

Another  son detailed memories of a family trip in which we played in the snow on a mountain, acquired sunburns in the high desert, sledded, swam, hiked through a canyon, toured an orchard and sampled new apple varieties under development, rode a ferry, visited a museum, splashed in  a waterfall, enjoyed an old-fashioned soda fountain, toured a hydroelectric dam, crossed a steel-mesh bridge on foot through an old-growth forest, climbed on a vintage train, played on a massive new playground, toured a candy factory (with samples), drove through desert, mountains, farms, forests, meadows, across rivers and valleys and canyons...all in two days. I sighed, remembering our many family vacations, most of which were just that packed. “As long as we’re nearby, we may as well see as much as we can” was an unspoken motto.

I wiped tears, I laughed, I choked up as I read each story aloud. My heartfelt response encouraged my kids: at last, they had a gift idea Mom loved! Every Christmas, birthday, and Mother’s Day since then, I’ve received a set of new stories. That optimistic-sized binder is stuffed now, as stories multiply and grandchildren grow old enough to add their own stories. On sad days, I take comfort in reading over my fat collection of stories. This truly is the best gift I could ask for.

Christmas is coming! If you love stories as much as I do, feel free to take my idea.