Christmas, Tomatoes and Strawberries

By Cindy R. Williams

Christmas is in the air, even here in sunshiny Arizona. My wonderful tomato plants in my balcony pots actually froze the other night. The strawberries are doing fine. The leaves, stems and fruits of both plants, yes tomatoes are fruits, are decked out in red and green finery, each as holiday festive as the other, but the strawberries win. Why is that? Are the strawberries hardier plants? Were they in a better location on the balcony –one that has less of a chilly breeze and more protected from the elements? The answer is probably a bit of both.

Writing is a lot like my tomatoes and strawberries. Harsh comments, critiques and rejection letters can cause us to doubt our ability to produce tomatoes. Sometimes we feel the cold bite from even those close to us whom lack understanding of how important writing is to our central core or being. Are we sometimes our own worst enemies and let our self-doubt turn our writing ability into ice? Do we allow adversity to freeze our creativity and leave us dormant and fallow for a time?

I challenge each of you to be more like my hearty strawberries and ward off frosty comments, discouragement and despair. This Christmas Season, let’s deck ourselves with the tenacity of these wonderful strawberries and push through the arctic front we all face at times.

Grow strawberries! Grow!

Selfless Social Giving

By Tanya Parker Mills

During this season of giving, I was reminded last week of just how wonderful and generous the youth are in our area, whether members of the Church or not. I'm writing of a different kind of giving here--not the Christmas presents and food box variety--but the gift of social inclusion to those generally deemed "different."

When my son was first diagnosed with Asperger's in first grade, I checked off several things he would likely never do...play team sports, go to dances, date girls. A mission, college, and eventual marriage were even questionable. I thought he'd enjoy Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts and enjoy getting his Eagle, but no, unlike many Aspies, the outdoors held no appeal for him.

As he grew up in our old ward in California, the youth went through the motions of trying to include him, but many Sundays he came home upset because there were always those who laughed at him and tormented him in some way. I'm so glad we moved, if only for his sake, for it proved to him (and me) that youth in the Church could be as loving and inclusive as Christ wants us to be.

So, what happened last week? I got a text message from one of my former Mia Maids, now a Laurel and a senior in high school. She's not only a member of the Seminary Council, but she's quite popular at school (and she's one of the girls my son, a Junior, has a crush on). Here's what she texted:

Lily: Would it be okay to take Jason to winter ball on the 18th? Do you know if he wants to go? I know it's the night of the ward Christmas party.

Me: I know he'd love to go with you. I'm just not sure he's comfortable about dancing. Let me get back to you, okay?

Lily: Yeah those were my thoughts too. I was thinking maybe we could do the dance for a while and dance with the group and get pics and then peace [sic] out. We'd be at the dance for maybe an hour.

Me: Sounds great. Go ahead and ask him.

Lily: Great! thanks :)

Then on Friday, when Jason went to eat lunch at the Seminary building at school (yes, we are unusually lucky to have release time Seminary up here in the Tri-Cities), he saw this huge banner Lily had put up asking him very publicly to the girls ask guys Winter Ball. Of course, he came home pleased as punch. And on Sunday in front of his whole Sunday School class, he nervously presented her with a long-stemmed red rose and his reply, "Of course I'll go with you, Lily. I can think of nothing I'd rather do."

My only remaining concern was how he would handle the traditional dinner before the dance. My son eats only grilled cheese sandwiches (and only the way I make them), a banana here and there, one particular kind of cinnamon cookie, and Dreyer's Grand Vanilla Ice Cream, and he only drinks water.

As it turns out, I needn't have worried. Lily had already made plans to double with another girl in our ward (who has a brother with more severe Asperger's), and they were planning on grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner. The other girl's mother said I was welcome to come and prepare the sandwiches just the way Jason likes.

I'm not sure if Lily realizes the extent of the gift she is giving my son. Even though she's half a foot taller than him, this beautiful, talented, vivacious girl is showing everyone at school that Jason is worth spending a special evening with. My son is actually pretty popular on campus in terms of friendship. Perhaps this will open the way for him to actually try asking someone to Homecoming and Prom next year--steps I never thought I'd see.

I promise to share a picture or two from his special night out next time I post.

Reality and Perception

by Susan G. Haws

Every day I try once again to convince my mother that her home is the house where she lives. Some days she is willing to step into my reality and I catch a glimpse of the person I used to know. Other days my persuasion isn’t compelling enough to take that mental leap of faith. This made me think about how a writer’s job is to create a world and make it and the characters so compelling that readers choose to step into it for a while.

Reality and the perception of that reality: We have all heard the story of how when War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells was performed on the radio thousands of people believed that it was actually taking place as reported. Today’s movies and TV are much more sophisticated then a scratchy radio report of attacking aliens. The cues for news, reality entertainment, and fiction more subtle. The expectations of today’s audience are at a significantly higher standard than ten or twenty years ago. How can writers meet, and exceed readers' expectations?

Novels require an effort of imagination on the part of the reader. A give and take between author and reader; so, that the reader starts with words on a page and then pictures bloom in her head , and when she is pulled out of that world by the phone ringing she is surprised to see she is on page 46 since she doesn’t remember turning more than the first. TV and Movies require a lot less from their audience and present their world immediately and fully formed. But in TV and Movies the cast is already set; thus, the audience is an unseen observer on the adventure, riding the motorcycle with Indiana Jones. In a book the reader plays dress up if they want. They can feel like an observer or they can feel like the main character. So a 12 year old girl or a 30 year old man can both feel like an 11 year old boy riding a broom for the first time. Is this greater input by the reader enough? I love reading and I want to share that with others. But I wonder how to exceed astronomical expectation.

Pearl Harbor Remembered

by Terri Wagner

Every 7th of December I ask my dad to tell me what he was doing when the news came. He never says you've heard this a thousand times (that's obviously an a lie since I'm not yet a 1,000 years old). He just launches into his story. I never had the chance to know my grandfather and I lost my grandmother far too early so this story connects me to them and to my father.

My grandparents had 2 sons. My grandfather was in the service. According to my dad, he always wore his uniform off duty or not. That particular day, the family was in the car driving around Colorado, he doesn't remember exactly where. They stopped to get gas and the attendent raced out. He saw the uniform and said, "Soldier you better get back to base right now. The Japanese just bombed Pearl Harbor."

My grandfather turned to his wife and said, "I told you they would." My grandfather spent his war years training pilots in England. He himself was was considerd too old to actually fly. Later, he and his family were stationed in Japan just months after the bombs were dropped there to end the war.

What a marvelous legacy that greatest generation gave us. I never tire of hearing that story. Nor of thinking of their sacrifices to keep me safe and free a generation or two after. As did my father by serving in Korea and Vietnam. And as always my heart and my prayers turn to our soldiers out there today still defending, protecting and keeping me safe and free.

Thank you seems too little doesn't it? And yet when I thank a soldier, a vet, anyone serving, they stop for a fleeting second and then say "you're welcome." We both nod, trying not to cry.

I also have to thank our Heavenly Father for giving us this grand and glorious place to live free. He is still protecting us. I pray and work every day to make sure His protection and their sacrifice (and that includes the families) are not in vain.

See a vet today, thank him.