Ya Feel Me?

     I went on a walk with a friend of mine a week or so ago, and we got talking about what had been taught in our sunday school lesson that week.  It was about spiritual experiences, and how we should write them down, and if appropriate then share them with others.  I was telling her about a cool experience I had recently had, and now I'm gonna sit here and write it down so I don't forget it.

    Growing up in the LDS church I was taught about the atonement.  I knew that Jesus had died for me and for my sins.  I knew that he loved me. I knew that I am a child of God and that Jesus as the Son of God, is my brother.  I remember learning that Jesus was my brother when I was very young, and that made me think of my own brothers. My oldest brother Adam was my hero!  I KNEW he loved me.  That was the closest thing I could relate my Savior's love to.  I remember thinking about Jesus dying for my sake and trying to understand it all.  I compared him to my hero, Adam, (this still makes me cry every time I think about it) and I remember wondering, "Would Adam die for me to save me?" ..... Yes.  Yes, my big brother Adam loved me that much, I was sure of it.  At that young age, with very little understanding of the fullness of the gospel, that was what it came down to.  Jesus must love me as much as Adam does.  That was where I left it.

    I know that he paid for my sins in the Garden of Gethsemane, but I have never really "felt" it.  I have repented for my mistakes in the past, and I truly feel like I've been forgiven for the things I've repented of.  I get that.  When there have been lessons about the atonement, or testimonies born about the Savior's sacrifice I have seen others get emotional, but I haven't really 'felt it'. And I know many people have a very strong testimony of the atonement.  But, that has honestly never been a strong point of my testimony.  

    A couple of weeks ago my mom called me up and invited my family to go to the BYU art exhibit, The Sacred Gifts.  A couple of my kids had already been there with their youth groups, but I had yet to see it.  Now, if you know me, I'm not a real Artsy-fartsy type person.  I can be kind of lazy,and sometimes going to things like this is hard for me to get excited about.  I had heard of Carl Bloch, but I hadn't heard of Heinrich Hofmann, or Frans Schwartz.  Nor do I think I really cared.  I was a little interested, but truly, I went because my mom invited us.  She does a good job of motivating me to provide my kids with a little culture here and there.

    We got dressed up almost to church level, and headed off to the museum.  There was a short little movie first that set the tone, and explained where the paintings had come from.  Then we got to go in and check out the religious pieces that had been loaned out for this exhibit.  I walked down the little hall and the very first painting 'Agony in the Garden' by Frans Schwartz just glowed!  I stared at it, and at Christ's eyes.  The pain and sadness and worry, and pleading.  It hit me straight in the heart.  I have plead like that.  On some level I have felt that emotion; worry, hope, love, sadness, helplessness, thankfulness... kind of all wrapped up in one.  I finally got it, I understood.  I was standing there captivated and crying, humbled and grateful, in awe of his love for me.  It was that love that Adam has for me, but it was so much more, and it wasn't just for me.  

           

     I noticed the people around me with their little informative iPads, learning about the artistic side of it.  I didn't feel like they were seeing it like I was.  I was a little embarrassed for myself to just start crying at the first painting amidst a group of people.  And I was concerned that the rest of the paintings were going to blow me away, so I hardened up again and moved on.  I looked at the rest of the paintings but couldn't get that first one out of my head, so when I had made the rounds I went back.  I read the scripture that went along with it:
Luke 22:42-43

 42 Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.

 43 And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him.

    It hit me again. When we teach that he has suffered all things, I used to think of things he hadn't suffered, like having a baby, etc.  And I would get very literal.  He probably hasn't had a son with leukemia, or experienced all of the exact struggles that I have.  But that look on his face tells me that he has prayed for God's children even more earnestly than I am capable of.  His eyes tell me that he has felt that tangled up emotion.  He understands the joy and excitement of having a baby, and the worry for their welfare.  He understands the overwhelming feeling of wanting it all to just be ok again, wanting there to be another way.  He understands being so overwhelmed that he needs strength from angels.
    I stood there with 2 of my boys and tried to explain it without crying too much.  I couldn't justly express it.  I asked Rick to make a "donation" so I could get a copy of the painting in my own home so I wouldn't forget.
    A couple of days later some things happened in our world that were hard and very frustrating.  Somethings felt like people were actively trying to be dishonest and manipulative, others were very sad and just hard to know how to handle best.  While working through one of the problems with another family, all I could think of was His eyes.  How much He loves us, how badly He wants us to accept His sacrifice.  I could feel it as I talked to them.
   I probably still don't get it all.... but I'm much closer to getting it than I was, because now I can feel it.
    I feel like a science project experiment.  Like I'm a big dam. And everything that has been happening is just more water thrown into the reservoir that I am supposed to hold back.  Frustrating things, and things that make you feel helpless, as well kind things, and love and support shown to us.  It all adds up to some type of emotion.  Emotion = water in the reservoir.   The water feels like it is getting so high sometimes.  Sometimes it seems very calm, and things are beautiful and that reservoir doesn't seem like a big deal.  There are still a lot of fun things you can do on a reservoir,  right?   But somedays it's as though the experiment is to see just how much water can be held back, and then to see what happens if a little pin hole is poked through me (the dam).  When I can feel myself getting a little choked up or emotional, this vision of a dam exploding open fills my mind.  The flood of fear and hope, frustration and gratitude,  confusion and understanding would cover everything in sight.  It scares me, so I patch up the holes as quickly as possible.
    I'm trying to find a way to share the good emotions.  To share the hope and the love.  And even though the unpleasant emotions are still there, maybe by sharing the good ones I will have a lighter load.  Then if I were to ever burst at the seams the flood would be much less devastating.
Ya feel me?

Are We Smarter Than a Pea-Brained Chicken?

      So, knowing that we would be spending a lot of time in the hospital with Ricky this summer, I felt that there were a couple of things that had to get taken care of before I went.  One of those things was to relocate the chickens.  I have a rickety old pen that I built, but there are 16 chickens packed into it, and it should fit maybe 4-6.  So not the most ideal environment.  With the help from some guys in our ward we built a new wall in the back of our shed to create a small room with nesting boxes and a roost, and I put up a wire fence to try to keep them in.  It isn't a very high fence, so I needed to clip their wings before I moved them.  Chickens can't fly very well, but they can fly enough to clear my little 4 ft fence.  I am awesome at procrastinating, so of course it was the morning of the day we had to leave, and the chickens still weren't ready to be moved, nor was the fence finished.  So I got up early, threw on my big rubber boots and headed out to hurry and get the job done.  I finished the fence and patched up any other escape route I could find, then watched a youtube video on how to clip chicken wings. :) ----click here to learn how to clip a chicken's wings  Then I went out and started catching chickens one by one, then two by two once I got the hang of it (Noah had a rough job!).  I walked them back to their new home, pinned them down and clipped off their "flying feathers". Then I'd put them in a nesting box to show them really how nice their new set up was and go get the next one. I got the job done and was pretty proud of myself, I stood outside the fence for a minute and watched how they would react to the new situation.  One hen jumped up and a ledge looking for a way out, even though this new situation is way better.  When she tried to jump down/fell off it was pretty apparent that not having flight feathers makes a big difference. She thumped down to the ground on her side, then stood up and tried to save a little dignity. I was sad for the chickens, but I needed them to be in a better place, and if I hadn't done it then they would just hop the fence and return to their old coop, out of habit, even though it is gross and cramped and not as nice as the new one.  I was pretty sure it had worked, so I went to get the "people" ready for the day (there are only 10 people to take care of, phew!)

     A couple hours later we were sitting waiting for our boy to wake up from his lumbar puncture, and test on the bone marrow.  They had also started the chemo by giving him a bit in his spine.  Rick and I sat waiting and talking about how awesome Ricky is, and what his future might hold.  We really believe that the future holds some amazing things for this kid.  But we are also aware that there are some great responsibilities that go along with greatness.  So that makes me nervous, because I know it won't be easy.  He is being prepared to be strong enough for great things... great things don't come easy.  He started the Methotrexate that evening, and slept most of the time.  The next day he was still sleepy and nauseous, throwing up a little, and very weak except for a mean case of hiccups that you can hear down the hall.  The drastic change in his condition, going from up and about, going to school and basketball and being pretty independent, back to weak and needing help to get around and to the bathroom and needing motivation for everything, caught me off guard.  I wasn't expecting things to change so quickly.

     It felt like his wings had been clipped.  Although he hadn't flown very high to begin with, now he was really limited.  It was sad to see him need his dad to hold him up while he walked and help shower him.  I didn't want to clip his wings!  I want him to walk through this with his head held high and have people say, "Wow! Cancer can't even touch that dude!"  In a blessing he had received earlier it talked about him realizing what things are really important and getting his priorities in order, and that this hard time was meant to help him do those things.  I realized that sometimes we have to get our wings clipped.  We have to stay grounded for awhile and get a refresher course on our priorities.  When we have our wings clipped we get a chance to stop and look around at what is really going on, and realign ourselves with what is really important.  

    Rick told me that when he got home that night every chicken was out and back to the old pen.  I thought "They are SO STUPID!" The new pen has fresh water flowing through it, clean beds to nest in, a new big ladder to roost on, with room for all!  I don't get it!  Why go back?  Why go back to a coop full of crap!?  Why go back to a stinky, cramped, nasty old place where you have to hope someone will come feed you and bring you water that day!?  Habit!  It is what they are used to.  Its all they know.  They don't get that I am offering them greater things than I ever have.  They haven't taken the time to see how great this new situation can be, they just looked for a way back to "Crapsville" as soon as they could.  So when I got home I found the hole in the pen, and fixed it.  Rick helped me catch them all again and move them back over.  They were all still there the next day, so hopefully they will look around this time and see how good it is.

    Back to the analogy...  How often does our Heavenly Father want to bless us with greater things and we are too busy with our habits to accept his offerings?  We just keep looking past the fresh flowing water to what we are used to.  Like "Man, I'm so thirsty!  If I could just get around this beautiful flowing stream of fresh water, then I could get back to that nasty algae ridden water bucket and get a muddy drink of murky muck!"  How often do we think we know better? And we go back to doing what we were, and what comes easy, or what is fun, cool or popular.  So I guess the question of the day/month/year/life time, is 'Are we smarter than a stupid chicken!?'

    Not just Ricky, but it seems like most of our family has gotten their wings clipped lately.  Dad, Mom, Ricky, even down the line to Hyrum, and in some ways even the littlest ones.  It has been a rocky 2014 to say the least.  We have been getting our rear kicked!   And there are times where I just want things to go back to normal.  To go back to where we were.  We were fine! Right?  But that would be looking past all of the love that has been shown to us by family, friends and communities around the world.  It would be looking past the blessings Heavenly Father wants us to have, and longing to be back to the things that I am familiar with.   I have got to be smarter than a pea-brained chicken!  Our wings will grow back.  Eventually we will easily be able to hop over that fence and head back to Crapsville if we still want.  But then we'd just have to get our wings clipped AGAIN!  Or!.... we can use that time while our flight feathers grow back to readjust our focus, so we can eventually fly on to even greater things than we ever had planned.

     I just sat down with Ricky and explained my little analogy of getting our wings clipped, hoping to open his eyes a little.  Because he was being grumpy and barking around at me.  He even told the maid who was taking the garbage out to "Be quiet, and Knock it off!" Then he apologized cuz he thought it was me doing it.  He didn't seem very thrilled with me nor with my analogy. Nurses kept interrupting the story, and when they would he would turn his ipad back on and continue with his movie.  So when I finally finished with my story, I asked him if he was smarter than a chicken, or if he would continue to return to Crapsville (i.e. just chilling watching tv, wasting time with unimportant things, grumping around at family, etc).  If he would get through cancer and be no better off than he was before, or if he would use the chance to become great and miraculous....  He sat up in bed, (which got my hopes up) then grabbed his IV pole and went to the bathroom.  Darn!  I grabbed my computer and left the room.  After chatting with the nurse for a second I went back to the room to remind him to eat his breakfast that had arrived.  I expected to just yell it into him while he was in the bathroom, but when I opened the door to his room I found him kneeling on his bed praying....  So I left.

    Here I am now finishing this blog in a room down the hall, starting to tear-up a little, and praying that my Heavenly Father will help me be smarter than a chicken.