Creating

Does the God of all the universe and all within the expanse of eternity care about my measly writing goals? Does it matter one bit if I craft a perfect paragraph, finally locate the key to my research, design a stunning book cover, type The End on a manuscript?

In the same way I cheer on my young grandchildren when they learn a new skill or stretch in anyway, I think He does. I think the act of writing, of linking words together  like beads on a string is a significant part of eternity. There’s a lot of dark influences in the world; anything we can do to push back the darkness even a little bit is worth doing.

Dieter F Uchdorf said in October 2008:

“The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul. No matter our talents, education, backgrounds, or abilities, we each have an inherent wish to create something that did not exist before.

Everyone can create. You don’t need money, position, or influence in order to create something of substance or beauty.

Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment. We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty—and I am not talking about the process of cleaning the rooms of your teenage children.

You might say, “I’m not the creative type. When I sing, I’m always half a tone above or below the note. I cannot draw a line without a ruler. And the only practical use for my homemade bread is as a paperweight or as a doorstop.”

If that is how you feel, think again, and remember that you are spirit daughters of the most creative Being in the universe. Isn’t it remarkable to think that your very spirits are fashioned by an endlessly creative and eternally compassionate God? Think about it—your spirit body is a masterpiece, created with a beauty, function, and capacity beyond imagination.

But to what end were we created? We were created with the express purpose and potential of experiencing a fulness of joy. Our birthright—and the purpose of our great voyage on this earth—is to seek and experience eternal happiness. One of the ways we find this is by creating things.”

How does this apply to writing? Have you ever found yourself caught up in a plot line, enthused about  how well that part turned out, felt a swelling sense of accomplishment reading over words you personally strung together? In a very small (but valuable!) way, that’s a shadow of God’s creations. After the earth was created, Genesis records the Creator stepping back and saying, “It is good.” Not spectacularly overwhelmingly awesomely wonderful, but good. Our writing is like that. Perfection is a process. Anything we learn in this world becomes part of us, our very being. Learning to expand our skills in communication and expression is not sneeze-worthy.

In Alma 34 we read:

 Cry unto him when ye are in your fields, yea, over all your flocks.

Cry unto him in your houses, yea, over all your household, both morning, mid-day, and evening.

Yea, cry unto him against the power of your enemies.

 Yea, cry unto him against the devil, who is an enemy to all righteousness.

 Cry unto him over the crops of your fields, that ye may prosper in them.

Cry over the flocks of your fields, that they may increase.

 But this is not all; ye must pour out your souls in your closets, and your secret places, and in your wilderness.

 Yea, and when you do not cry unto the Lord, let your hearts be full, drawn out in prayer unto him continually for your welfare, and also for the welfare of those who are around you.

I don’t have flocks or fields or crops. I’m not really an animal lover, and this is the first year in twenty-seven I didn’t plant a garden. What I do have is a desire to write. For a while, I felt funny praying for help in my writing, but old Alma had a point; if it matters to me, it’s worth praying over. 

Sometimes, usually in that place between awake and asleep, inspiration will strike me and I’ll pick up paper and pen. Ideas for a new book, a plot twist, a way to untangle written dialogue, a nudge to write that article I’ve been putting off; often, ideas flow faster than I can write them down, like a waterfall of inspiration. Irrelevant things, perhaps, in the scheme of things, but it’s a reminder that my attempts at creating are noticed outside of my own mind. Sometimes I can sense a heavenly cheering section, encouraging me on, imperfect though my attempts may be. 

Waffling about writing? Feeling like you’re not good enough? Get back to it anyway! And don’t forget to pray. Help stands waiting, I’m certain of it. 

New and Exciting Things - Life Happens

by Kari Diane Pike

In that space between sleep and wakefulness I watched the sun rise.The light chased away night's shadow and dressed the clouds in gowns of fuchsia, and gold, and copper. Color overflowed from the sky and a vibrant rainbow arched down to touch the valley below. The feelings of peace and gratitude  and joy that accompanied the scene added to the beauty.  The rainbow began to fade and I reached for my camera in order to capture the moment but I couldn't find it. The rainbow shimmered in a valiant effort to keep shining, then burst into glittery specks that fell to the earth. That's when I realized I had to be dreaming because (1) seeing a rainbow in front of the sun was scientifically impossible and (2) rainbows don't explode into glittery confetti.

The light faded behind a silvery mist and the echo of a train whistle outside stirred my consciousness. One more thought rode on the tail of my dream as it slipped away:

You couldn't take a picture of what you saw, but you can share its beauty by writing about it. The gift is yours as long as you use it for good.

 Today I met my new visiting teaching partner. As we chatted and got to know each other, she told me at least three times that I should write a book.

I haven't even been consistent lately about posting on this blog. What makes me think I can write a book? Sure, I talk about it. All.The.Time. But, you know. Life happens.

And then it hit me. Life happens! And it is magnificent. I love recognizing the Lord's tender mercies and watching the way He has prepared a way for everything to work out. Every day He sends angels to assist me on this incredible journey. And I want to share the beauty of witnessing how the Atonement of Jesus Christ blesses my life.

Two weeks ago, I learned I would be helping our oldest daughter drive her vehicle with five children, a dog, from Fairbanks, Alaska, to Phoenix, Arizona - oh, and towing a tent trailer the whole way. Sheer terror twisted my stomach in knots because, you know, two lane roads, ice, bar ditches, ice, never been there before, ice, camping along the way, ice... So I prayed. Our daughter prayed. My husband prayed. And several people came across our path. I learned from one friend that if we took the ferry to Seattle, we would save 1200 miles. That sounded like a perfect solution to avoiding the snow and ice that decided that week to cover the roads across Alaska and Canada.  Except we couldn't find a ferry schedule. And believe me, we searched.

A few days later, I met a man in a hospital waiting room who had lived in Alaska for twenty-five years. In less than thirty seconds, he pulled up a ferry schedule. Hoorah! Another step forward. But alas. The ferry wanted $4500.00 for the three day trip for our Clampett-like entourage. Nope. Not happening. More prayers were offered. More research took place. My husband determined that the best decision was to store the truck and the camper in Fairbanks and fly everyone to Arizona. Staying alive was much more important than the expense of flying. Our daughter searched some more and found plane tickets that would cost less than the amount needed for gas to drive for 60 hours or more. Win-Win!

That's how a Grandma, a Mom, five children, a dog and kennel, 13 checked bags and backpacks of various sizes, seven carry-on bags and seven personal items descended upon an Alaska Airline flight to Seattle and Phoenix. Compared to the idea of driving and camping in the snow for a couple of weeks, the ten hour layover was a piece of cake.

Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin spoke about "Come What May and Love It". He taught about four things that help us get through life:

• Learn to laugh - it will extend your life
• Seek for the eternal
• Understand the law of compensation - every tear today will be returned a hundredfold
• Put your trust in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ

So during the past couple of days when my list of things to do threatened to topple over and bury me, I took a deep breath and watched the sunrise. I focused on the most important things, including a bike ride around the block with an active grandson and playing Mr. Potato Head with an imaginative granddaughter. I even found the time to post this blog, even if it had to wait until 10:35 p.m. 

In about eight hours the sun will rise again and new and exciting things are waiting to happen. I look forward to seeing what comes. I know it will be spectacular. 

hugs~

Sunrise in Fairbanks. October 23, 2017

Life is Magnificent

by Kari Diane Pike

Hello Friends!

Did you miss me?

I have most certainly missed you.

I love sharing thoughts and inspirations and learning from your comments. But life happens. I saw my podiatrist, cardiologist, oncologist, dermatologist, optometrist, and gastroenterologist, and child number seven married the man of her dreams, all in the short six to eight weeks since I last posted here. I reached a goal to ride a distance of fifteen miles on my bike, shed nearly thirty pounds, and my blood work results came back better than they have been in years. There has been no progression in my M.G.U.S. and my heart is full of gratitude. Yep, we've been crazy, busy, happy.

During all of this craziness, an experience of a four-year-old grandson helped keep me grateful and grounded:

Mom: Time to get your jammies on and get ready for bed.
Four-year-old: Wait. What? But I want to have dessert.
Mom: It's too late for dessert. It's night time. You need to go to bed.
Four-year-old: Humph. No fair. Jesus ruins all my plans.
Mom: Did you say Jesus ruins all your plans?
Four-year-old: Yes. He ruins all my plans.
Mom: What do you mean by that? Why would you say that?
Four-year-old: Well, you told me that Jesus made the whole earth and He made the day and the night. And you said that since it's night we have to go to bed and I don't get dessert. So He ruined all my plans. 
Mom: 😲

I've pondered on this little discussion for weeks. Part of me is in awe of this little man's reasoning skills. Another part of me laughs out loud when I think about the future parenting adventures that lie ahead for his lucky mom and dad. Deeper thought reminds me that, like our little grandson, there have been many occasions when I've been unable to comprehend why the Lord asks certain things of me. I get a plan in my head, pray about it, set goals, and start putting those goals into action only to run up against what I perceive to be road blocks. And sometimes I wondered, "Why did You ruin all my plans?" or "Why did I feel prompted to make this choice only to have everything fall apart?"

In 2009 we earnestly prayed about moving our family to Utah where my husband had been working for nearly a year. Let me emphasize that word "earnestly". We wanted our family to be together, but we truly wanted to make the best choice and accept the Lord's will. We received a miraculous confirmation to our prayers and decision and used every last penny to relocate. More tender mercies paved the way for us to find a lovely home in an incredible neighborhood. We had no doubt that the Lord had guided our steps all along the way. Until things started to fall apart.

We lost our renters soon after the move and eight months later lost our home in Arizona that held thirteen years of precious memories. Well, "okay", we said. We love it here in Utah and we'll start over. Our landlords had given us a lease with an option to buy, and we had come to love Utah county. We could get over that little bump. We didn't see the hairpin turn up ahead.

A year later, downturn in the economy caught up with Utah and my husband was laid off from his job as a civil engineer. We used the money we had saved for a down payment to get us through six months of unemployment. Our landlord kindly encouraged us to stay in the house until school let out for the summer, at which point they moved back to Utah and we - two adults, three teenagers, a cat, a dog, and a parakeet - moved into our little tent trailer and camped in my sister-in-law's driveway.

The first few days of "camping" was kind of fun. Our two families cooked together and hung out on the porch and played night games. Even having only one bathroom available for eight people worked out because the Texaco station down the street opened at 6:00 a.m. "House" cleaning took less than thirty minutes. What a great adventure! Until it wasn't.

The violent windstorms that whip out of the canyons of Utah county are scary enough when you live in a sturdy house with a strong foundation. The rain and hail and flying debris accompanied by micro bursts of sixty to eighty-mile-per-hour winds are down right terrifying in a tent trailer. I broke down that night. I learned what it means to "cry unto the Lord". Why, oh why, had things turned out so differently than we expected? Had I failed to listen to His will? Were we supposed to stay in Arizona? Had I put my own desires in place and made the wrong choices?

I begged for protection for my family. I pleaded for peace of mind. I cried for mercy.

And then it was quiet.

Oh, the storm outside our canvas walls raged on. But in my heart and in our little home on wheels, I felt love. The thought that grew in my mind:

Just because things didn't turn out the way you expected doesn't mean you made the wrong choice. You are not being punished. You will discover great blessings. Do you think that things worked out for the early pioneers they way they anticipated? Do you think they expected drought and crickets and nearly starving to death? Did they do the wrong thing? No! They followed the counsel of the Lord. They learned. They grew. They endured. And look at the legacy they left for you and others. Laman and Lemuel murmured because they didn't understand the mind of the Lord. They refused to try. Remember what you learned before about being prepared to receive blessings? You are being prepared. Don't be afraid. Faith endures.

Six years have passed since that storm raged. I never imagined we would be where we are today. I can honestly say I count my blessings every night and thank Heavenly Father for "ruining my plans" because the life with which He has blessed me and continues to bless me is far more magnificent than I could ever dream.

Hugs~
 

Two families tied together through the blessings of eternal marriage. I love being connected to all of these amazing people!

So Much Pain Going Around

by Marsha Ward @MarshaWard

I woke up to the news that a writer acquaintance's missing hunter husband had taken a fall in desolate country and died.

We in the United States are going through the most bitterly contentious and divisive presidential election since 1860.

The daughter of "The Piano Guys'" Jon Schmidt is missing near the Columbia River Gorge in northern Oregon, and official search efforts have been called off, while family and friends soldier on.

So much sadness and despair. So many prayers being offered. What can we do?

I recently posted a meme with an image of Dr. Ben Carson, that tells us what we can do. In his words:

"When we have done our best, we also have to learn that we must rely on God. Our best - no matter how good - is incomplete if we leave God out of the picture."

Vice Presidential candidate Mike Pence has asked us to pray to God to heal America.

That's profound, and echoed by many other wise men and women of our day. Many people will be participating in a "fast" on November 6, with accompanying prayers and with repentant hearts to ask God to do just that.

I agree. It's time for the people of the United States to fall on their knees daily, not just on one special day, to give our hearts to God in supplication, not only for optimal results in a pivotal election, but to ask for comfort and healing for those who mourn.

I know God works in our lives. He has a plan for each of us.

We sing a little song in my church's children's program, in which I am privileged to play the piano. It's called, "I Will Follow God's Plan," written by Vanja Y. Watkins.

My life is a gift; my life has a plan.
My life has a purpose; in heaven it began.
My choice was to come to this lovely home on earth
And seek for God's light to direct me from birth.
I will follow God's plan for me,
Holding fast to his word and his love.
I will work, and I will pray;
I will always walk in his way.
Then I will be happy on earth
And in my home above.

Here's a version from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir:



What are your thoughts?

Circles

       I believe in circles. So much of what we do is affected by, and effects, things on down the road.  I also believe in The Great Video Replay In The Sky. In several hundred years, we will all gather with our boxes of celestial popcorn and watch the story about what really happened while we were on Earth. I firmly believe we will be jaw-dropped awestruck by how often God moves things and people and circumstances around to benefit His beloved children...and we miss most of it! 

         This is a story that I did not miss. It takes place in three places: Austria, a Chicago suburb, and my living room, here in Washington.

       Once upon a time (because that is how all good stories begin) we invited a couple to dinner to get better acquainted, soon after our daughter became engaged a few years ago. After-dinner talk turned to missions. They had both served LDS missions in Germany/Austria, and married soon after they came home. The Cold War was in the headlines, a risky time, late 1970s. That mission did not have any MTC training, and no translated materials; no scriptures, no lessons, nothing! They had to obey rules so very carefully, and after The Incident, the couple said missionaries were under communist government scrutiny constantly, because the people believed they were spies.

        The man, Carl, told a story that took place in their mission. Four young American elders on P- day crossed the communist border into Czechoslovakia, down that forbidden road, past the huge warning signs, past the armed guard towers, past the painted warning lines. They actually crawled through razor wire fences, just to take pictures to send home!

They were arrested, and it was all over the international news. The Church took a huge PR hit, once the media reported that all missionaries were actually American spies, worldwide. After a couple of days, two LDS apostles flew to Austria, along with several high-ranking American officials. They negotiated for their release for two full days and nights. Finally, they convinced the military holding the young men that that they were merely unwise, not devious. They flew the elders back to the states, without any of their belongings, straight from the firing squad to the airport, under military guard.

Carl said many areas were closed because of The Incident, and missionary work was much more controlled after that. As he related the story, waves of chills washed over me, and not just because I love a good story.

Carl concluded, "...and we never heard what happened to them after that.”

        Shaking, I burst out, “I know! That is my story!" 

           To condense my conversion story: I was a teenager in Illinois, meeting with the Assistants to the mission president at the mission home, and went to tell them I wouldn’t be meeting with them again. Good men, I'm sure, but seemingly carved of wood, as exciting as dust, and determined to recite the discussions, word for word, when all I wanted was to ask questions. As I went to the mission home that final day, a bouncy young elder with round John Denver glasses popped out, greeted me warmly, and said "Hi, I’m new here. I hear you have questions. Let's sit here and just talk."  Turns out he had just arrived, and expected to be sent to the far reaches of the mission the next day.

           I found out much later that he had been called to serve in Austria. He and some others had crossed a forbidden border. They were imprisoned as spies for five long days, then put in front of a firing squad, which was halted just moments before firing commenced. He was sure he was going to die.

Two apostles negotiated for their release, and dragged them to the airport under heavy police guard. He said that flight was very long, longer because the Church leaders never said a word to the terrified elders. They were dirty, had not slept or eaten in five days, and were not sure what would be done to them once they arrived in Salt Lake City.

Landing in America, the young missionaries were taken directly to Church headquarters. In a meeting with all of the twelve apostles and the First Presidency, the four young missionaries were verbally blasted. They were told they had set back missionary work by decades. Each was given the option to be assigned to the Illinois mission, or to go home. Three chose to go home. One said he had been called for two years, had only served one, and would be grateful to be allowed to serve anywhere. He arrived in Illinois the next day, I met him that evening, and I was baptized two weeks later.   I had to delay a week, due to all of America celebrating the Bicentennial.                                 

          I was stunned that night as Carl told the story – my story! I told you I believe in circles. The couple we invited to dinner was our daughter’s fiancé’s parents.  What are the chances of them having the other half of my story? Or their son marrying my daughter, thousands of miles from both Austria and Illinois?  There they sat in my living room, as shocked as I was to finally learn what had happened to those four renegade elders who stirred things so badly, then vanished.  The story parts came together in a tidy circle, thirty-five years after the events. 

        What if I had not stopped to hear that bouncy new elder, the one who was in such trouble the mission president promised to banish him to outer darkness, AKA southern Illinois, the very next morning? I prayed for the very first time that night, something like, “Look, God, I don’t even know if You are there, but if this is Your church, as they say, and You want me in it, put him nearby. I can listen to him.” At 7am the next morning, Calvert called to say he’d be living two blocks from my home. 

 The circle rolls on. If I had not been baptized, I would not have met my husband, had our daughter, she would not have met her husband and now they’re expecting their third child. Pretty amazing circle, don’t you think?

At the end of a long, distracting story, I hope you get the point that God is real, and concerned about even details.  He loves us! The Lord is in charge of small and large things.

        I believe firmly in circles. I also believe that we are blind to most of the Lord’s blessings. For all you know, that one person you meet, that one uplifting sentence you say, that one service you offer, may be the catalyst that sets off magnificent things. 

We won’t know until all the circles are revealed.  

Are You Afraid to Write?

by Marsha Ward @MarshaWard
This blog post is adapted from one originally published on this blog on March 11, 2007.

It's amazing how much fear can paralyze a writer right from the start. Let's take a look at some of the fearful reasons people don't write, even when they long to do so.

• I'm afraid to write because I'll have to cut back on spending time with my friends, and they won't like me anymore.
• I'm afraid to let anyone read my work because they might steal it.
• I'm afraid to share in a writer's group because people might criticize my work.
• I'm afraid to submit my work because it might be rejected.
• I'm afraid to revise because I might get my work published.
• I'm afraid to get published because I might be successful and have to change my life.

How interesting it is that a writer's fears begin and end with making life changes.

Frequently self-doubt, a scurrilous fear, attacks a writer--even a published one--and causes him or her great anxiety, even to the extent of threatening a promising career. I know of a writer who was so convinced that he/she could not write his/her way out of a paper bag that he/she got rid of every vestige of the writing life, including the latest manuscript from the computer. Fortunately, calmer heads overruled the faulty self-assessment, and he/she has gone on to much success.

How does a writer overcome these fears?

That's a big question, because every writer faces it. Writers are notorious for mood swings from the heights of arrogance to the depths of despair. How can he or she keep on a more even keel?

Here's a list of things that help other writers:

• Listening to inspiring music
• Reading affirmations each day
• Hanging quotes above the computer monitor or in the writing space
• Praying before writing
• Lighting scented candles in the room

Probably the best suggestion for overcoming writer's fear is to face it head on and WRITE EVERY DAY*, even if it's only 100 words. This method of facing fear has the added plus of helping a writer overcome writer's block!

*I'm amending the suggestion above to "write every day" to include the phrase "when you are in writing mode." I've discovered over the years that I need breaks from writing constantly on a project. I don't mean taking breaks in the midst of writing on a project, but taking breaks between projects.

What do you do to conquer your writer's fear?

Moving Day

By Kari Diane Pike

Moving day. Those two little words have the power to make even the most unflappable person cower in the closet with a year's supply of chocolate, caffeinated drinks, and Cheetos. No matter how happy I am about the circumstances behind relocating, the effort needed to accomplish everything that entails remains the same. That said, some moves are better than others, and certainly when I am happy about moving, there seems to be less pain involved. But still...it's moving day.

Our oldest daughter and her family are also in the process of relocating. I am moving less than 20 or so houses down the street. Our daughter is moving from Wyoming to Anuktuvuk Pass, Alaska. They can't even drive there! So when I catch myself getting whiny about our little hop around the corner, I remember that it could be worse. Then I may or may not open up Facebook and adjust my attitude with my favorite dark chocolate.

The most moves I ever made in one year is five. The longest move I've made was from Kalispell, Montana to Phoenix, Arizona. The fastest move came about the first time we lived in Gilbert, Arizona - the beautiful town in which we now reside. My husband Doug had tried for nearly six months to get a business off the ground, without success. He received a job offer from a company in California and had to decide if he wanted to keep trying to make a go of self-employment or accept the position. While he mulled over the pros and cons we had discussed, I had mom stuff to do. I left to run errands and pick up some much needed groceries to feed the five littles we had at that time.

I lugged a load of groceries in from the garage and Doug called to me from the living room. When I entered the room, I noticed that he had changed out his casual jeans and t-shirt for a pair of dress slacks, white shirt and tie. I also realized that a strange woman sat on a chair across from where Doug sat. Doug stood and walked toward me, gesturing toward the woman and introducing her as a reporter for the Gilbert Independent - the local newspaper.

"Honey, I accepted the job in California. I called and resigned from the Town Council and they sent [the reporter]. The packers will be here tomorrow and the movers will be here the next day."

Yes, we are still married.

I guess the point of sharing these thoughts is to express to you how grateful I am for these experiences. Yes, some moves have been harder than others. I always dread leaving friends and having to find new doctors and someone who can cut my hair (that struggle is real). But every move has given me new friends, new perspectives, and many opportunities for growth.

Kneeling by my bed the other night, I realized that my prayers had become far to focused on me - asking the Lord to help me do this and help me get through that. I stopped mid-thought and I asked,

"Heavenly Father, what can I do for you today?"

A sweet stillness filled the room and the thought came to my mind, "Be kind. Be patient. Love those around you. Be happy. Everything will work out."

So, if you have read this far, thank you. Do you know how wonderful you are? I love you. I believe in you. Life is magnificent.

Squeee~
The realtor just brought us the keys. Moving day just became official!

hugs~