Hold On!

by Marsha Ward

Life has been topsy-turvy for me lately: my younger brother's heart attack, two-week + coma, and death; two trips in two weeks during that time, including a physical trip and fall; an out-of-control government on all sides; weather on the rampage; the unkindness of our fellow human beings; my writing time taking a beating.

Sometimes it feels like I've come to the end of my rope. At those times, I've learned that it's best to tie a knot in the rope and Hold On!

A beloved LDS composer and singer, Michael McLean, wrote a song about how one feels at such times, and gives encouragement that has uplifted me many times before this. I'd like to share it with you.

HOLD ON, THE LIGHT WILL COME

Words and Music by Michael McLean

The message of this moment is so clear;
And as certain as the rising of the sun.
If your world is filled with darkness, doubt, and fear,
Just hold on, Hold on, the light will come.

Ev'ryone who's ever tried and failed
Stands much taller when the victory's won.
And those who've been in darkness for a while
Kneel much longer when the light has come.

It's a message ev'ry one of us must learn;
That the answers never come without a fight.
And when it seems you've struggled far too long,
Just hold on, hold on, there will be light.

Hold on. Hold on. The light will come.

If you feel trapped inside a never-ending night.
If you've forgotten how it feels to feel the light,
If you're half crazy thinking you're the only one
Who's afraid the light will never really come

Just hold on. Hold on! The light will come.

The message of this moment is so clear;
And as certain as the rising of the sun.
If your world is filled with darkness doubt and fear.
Just hold on, hold on, the light will come.

(Here's a video with the music:)

Hold On!

Happy July 4th!

by Cindy R. Williams

Happy Birthday to the United States of America. I cry as I write this. I love my country. It is hard to see such selfish, willful, and often misguided minds controlling this great land. I pray that the Lord will not forget us. I pray that we will be willing to rise up and be counted on the Lord's side. No more going with the flow, because the flow is going the wrong direction.

So many men and women have sacrificed their lives for us and our freedoms. We are now losing so many of those freedoms at the hands of our own citizens as they push extremes and begin to infringe on our religious freedoms.

I want to share a story, or at last part of the story of why I will stand firm and fight if necessary for my religious freedoms.

Once upon a time there was a gregarious young man who grew up on a ranch/farm. He loved everyone he met. At 19, he was called to serve a mission to Helsinki, Finland. While in the Missionary Center in SLC, he was drafted by the United States of America to serve in the Korean War. Soon he found himself in another country, on the front lines, guarding a General's life instead of preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

This new assignment meant he often slept under the General's cot. Several times he woke up needing to protect the General from the enemy creeping into the tent, He was trained to use his hands and body as a killing machine and learned to do his job well. This was a great sacrifice for him personally, but he knew what he was called to do was protecting his great country.

One day, while out running the hills for exercise, he and 12 other soldiers were captured by the enemy. They were shoved into dirt floor huts with guards placed at the door. Days later, thirsty and almost starved to death, they planned a night time escape. When the enemy settled in for the night with their usual drinking, they waited until their guards started snoring and crept out. They were recaptured not too far from camp by another group.

Each American soldier was stabbed by baynettes through the knee caps and hands, then tossed back onto the dirt floor in their hut. The guards celebrated their recapture with more drink. This young farming man crawled to each of the other 12, helping to bind their woulds and encourage them to try again while all were now sufficiently drunk. They all were in great pain and it seemed their spirits were broken. None could, or would, make another try for freedom that night.

The young man went on his own, using his elbows to crawl and drag his useless legs. He continued for several days, drinking dew, eating roots, passing out. Finally he saw a convoy truck and with his last energy, pulled himself into the back and blacked out. He woke up in an American Military Hospital. He told his story. The company went back to the site where the others were being held. Fighting, and arrests were made. None of the other American soldiers survived.

This young man lived the rest of his life sorrowing over his 12 friends, and wondering if he could have somehow saved them. He went on to build a good live with a wife and three children. He became a teacher and coach in hopes to help build others. He loved his country and never, ever regretted serving in the military.

This man was my father.

I am one of the lucky ones. So many have died for us. How can we not show them our love and appreciation by protecting our country.

I will stand up, even though it is not "politically correct" for God's words and fight on the Lords side.
I will make my fathers proud, both earthly and Heavenly.

Happy Birthday, United States of American, my country!

Why I Joined ANWA - Comments From a Newbie

For those of you who don't know me, which should be nearly everyone, let me introduce myself. My name is Susan Allred and I am a writer. I am also your new Thursday blogger alternating with Kari Pike for the next six months.

 At least that's what I keep telling myself. :) I am brand new to this whole writing thing. I began writing a couple of years ago when my little sister, an English teacher at Washington State University, called and informed me that there was this thing called NaNoWriMo and a National Novel Writing Month. I was already five pages into a story about my oldest daughter, so I figured, 'why not?'

On the first day, Patty had written 56 words, and I had 1200 words from the story I'd already started. By day two, I'd penned 2000 words, and Patty had 56 words. By day three, I had 2300 words. Patty had...56. She e-mailed me and said she was quitting, but best of luck with my book. By then, I was enmeshed in my story and there was no going back. I finished my 10,000 words by the end of the month, and that was just the beginning. Since then, my single story has turned into a seven-book series, of which I have completed my first editing group on my first book, in the process of editing my second, and writing my third book.

 After the first book was in it's fourth draft, my dear friend Kathryn Rosenbaum found out I was a writer and asked to read the manuscript. Then, she invited me to the Seattle area ANWA retreat in October. I agreed, since I didn't know another living soul who had written a book and Kathryn was willing to take me under her wing.

I followed that poor woman around like a lost puppy dog the entire weekend, met some amazing women, gathered invaluable information from the workshops and speakers, and came home enriched, enlightened, and excited to pursue writing my series. Whether I publish or not, doesn't matter to me. When all is said and done, I will have written a book with each of my children as a main character that they can keep and show to their own children when they get older.

Since that fateful weekend when I was introduced to ANWA, Kathryn and I have begun to form our own chapter in the Spokane, Washington area, and I am now blogging on the ANWA Founder and Friends Blog. What a difference a year makes. And thank you, to all of you – some that I've met already, and others that I hope to meet in the near future - for being such an amazing group of women. This experience has been one of support, encouragement, and sharing every step of the way. It truly is a sisterhood in it's finest form. I look forward to getting to know each of you.

Summers Can Be Weird

by Terri Wagner

I'm late, I'm late and it's 7 am CST. How can I already be late? Because the last time I was supposed to post I was sitting in Foley High School unable to access the Internet working with the Educational Technology group. I got a text message to call my sister immediately, my mother's boarder had passed away. Everything including posting went out of my head. I raced up to my mom's which is about 3 hours away, and tried to help her through all of this. It was unfortunately a very dramatic way to go. After being very restless and agitated (I had spoken with mom about 10 pm Sunday night), he awoke suddenly around 1 am. Sat up in bed, roused my mom who was snoozing in a chair, stood up, fell over and banged his head on the oxygen tank. He's bleeding copiously, she's calling 911, he calls out to her. She runs back in and is trying to control the bleeding. He grabs at his chest and slumps over. The paramedics work on him for about an hour before announcing time of death. Because he was at home, because there was an injury, the cops have to come and question my mother.

She had to arrange all of the funeral because his family has been and remains either cleverly helpless or truly helpless. It was funny, a sorta of Mormon funeral in a Methodist church. We got through all that. Packed mom up and made her come back with us for a week. It was tough because my mom is at best difficult. And this was not easy or fun. Halfway through I was becoming exasperated when the Spirit whispered, "You are here to serve." I chuckled and reminded myself of that daily as I struggled to help my mom.

Yesterday when I was supposed to post, I was at Gulf Shores High doing more ET work. When I am with them, there is a lot of tech talk, I need to listen too. And at noon I get another text from my sister telling me I'd better plan to go back to mom's over the Fourth weekend. She is melting down again. I had plans!!!! But then remembered, I am here to serve. So back I go. That's why I didn't post June 16 and am late for June 30. Let's hope things calm down by July.