For her birthday, my oldest daughter Brooke asked if I would accompany her on a hike, high in the alpine mountains above Hyrum, Utah.

First you have to know that she is more than twenty years younger than I am – and has always had incredible energy and drive. She accomplishes more in a few hours than I do in an entire day.

I love the mountains, and I love her, so I willingly accepted. I did not take into account that, due to my recent schedule, I have not been consistent in my daily exercising (so I am somewhat out of shape), and that hikes usually entail significant uphill trails which can be pretty demanding. I only envisioned the joy of being out in nature with my daughter, and I was excited.

As we headed up the steep rocky trail, it very quickly became apparent that she was setting a pace I was unaccustomed to – and one that I would not be able to hold for very long. The path followed a stream that gurgled over rocks and tree roots, and there was frequent welcome shade where the tall trees’ branches reached over the trail. It was beautiful, and I drew strength from the beauty that surrounded us. But that strength was not quite enough, and after not too long, I guess she perceived I was beginning to ‘lose steam’.

“Let’s rest in this shade…” she graciously offered as we arrived in a cool glade of aspen. Her husband and my youngest daughter were with us, and they seemed almost as relieved as I felt when we stopped to catch our breath.

After a brief rest, we were back on our way. And although I loved being out in all of that breath-taking beauty, I wished I could slow down a bit! The pace demanded too much of my focus just to keep climbing, one step after another.

Brooke thoughtfully stopped us for frequent rests that I know she didn’t need. She still seemed full of energy when, after a few hours, we had hiked through meadows of wildflowers, groves of pines, hillsides of aspen and sheer rock cliffs. We finished the hike and headed down toward the car,  filled with a deepened appreciation for the beauties of this world.

But I have decided that I am at a place in life where, although I still love hiking, I now go with a different objective. No longer am I driven to get to the top of the mountain, or the end of the trail, or even to the wonder that the guidebook promises is just around the next bend.  I now enjoy a slower pace, and I am prone to halt more frequently to study the rock that, in earlier years, I would have simply stepped over. My eyes are less focused on the montain top and instead are drawn this way and that, eager to study a wildflower that beckons to be smelled, an unusual leaf, or the butterfly that flits from one blossom to the next. I am lifted by their beauty, and I am renewed by being surrounded by God’s abundant creations. I am content to sit and listen to the breeze rustling the tops of the giant pines while others continue the climb to the top of the trail.

I believe that trauma, loss, discouragement and grief require us to slow down and pull back from the frantic pace of daily life, and can even be an invitation to look for the small things that witness to us that God is aware of us and our struggles, and that He desires to lift us with all that He created specifically to bring beauty into our lives, and peace into our hearts.

Of course He knew we would meet with difficulty in this life, and I believe He planned  to surround us with things that would give us healing, hope and courage, if we would only open our eyes to them.

So if you are seeking that healing, and if you find sometimes that your hope and courage are failing you, slow down. Don’t let the length of life’s journey discourage  you, but rather, focus just on today, and open your eyes and find one of God’s messages of hope – a beautiful view of a mountain, meadow, or lake;  the song of a bird outside your window, or the intricate beauty of a flower.

Choose a slower pace – and find hope!

-Roslyn

So says Alan Christofferson, the main character in Richard Paul Evans’ new book, The Walk.

Does any one of us know what the future holds? I can think of so many times in my life when I had a plan all laid out for the next weeks, months, and even years – and then, in the blink of an eye, everything changes. A phone call; a chance meeting; a turn of events, and life is altered forever.

After Alan lost his wife, his business, and his home, he decided to walk across the country to the place furthest from where his dreams all died. As he stops each night, he writes in his journal. His entries are brief, but telling. One night he wrote, “We can be victims of circumstance or masters of our own fate…” and I thought, “How can you write that when you have just lost everything, through no fault of your own? How can you say you are the master of your fate?”

Then it hit me. Alan had learned what Viktor Frankl taught: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances – to choose one’s own way.”

The night his wife died, Alan’s journal entry read simply, “All is lost.”

Shortly thereafter, he sat in despair at the kitchen table with two bottles of pills, contemplating taking his own life. He could find no reason to live, and was ready to end it all quickly, when he heard, from somewhere, the words,

“Life is not yours to take.”

Then, he thought he heard the voice of his late wife, McKale, whisper, “Live.”

I believe that is what each of our loved ones would say were they able to communicate with us. Not to simply exist, but to live with purpose; to choose our own way.

Again from Frankl: “Man does not simply exist, but always decides what his existence will be, what he will become in the next moment.”

I believe we too can make that choice, and determine who we will be and what we will do with whatever circumstances we are presented.

There will be times we too will say, “I do not know what lies ahead of me,..” but in those times, we will also be able to say, “…but I do know what I want to become.”

That decision will change everything.

The book is about Alan Christofferson, a man who has everything, and how, through a series of tragic losses, he ends up homeless and begins a journey, walking across the country. At first, he walks to get away from everything in his past – but as he continues, he learns lessons that change his life, and realizes he is really walking to face his future. In his words, “This is what I’ve learned. We can spend our days bemoaning our losses, or we can grow from them. Ultimately the choice is ours. We can be victims of circumstance or masters of our own fate, but make no mistake, we cannot be both.”

“We are all on a walk. Perhaps not as literal as mine, but a walk all the same . . .”

It hit me in the early hours of the morning as I finished the epilogue that he is right. I too am on a walk, and I’ve been shuffling my feet. Some days I have even refused to take one step. I had once again slipped into that seductive passivity of victim mode.

Yet I have opportunities before me, all around me, that, if I embraced them, could burn more of the dross out of my soul, and help me to become a better tool in God’s hands. On the other hand, if I continue to resist them, that dross will grow darker and thicker, becoming even more permanently adhered to the chambers of my heart.

I want to grow. I want to be able to look back on this time of my life with no regrets, knowing I truly did the best I could. But I will need God’s help. The compassion and charity I need are not within me, but are gifts only He can give. I pray He can soften my hardened, selfish heart and as promised in Ezekiel 36:26, replace it with a new one.

There are more lessons to be learned from this powerful book. I will share them as I continue on my walk, and encourage you on yours.

Stepping out, once more,

Roslyn

The next morning, we awoke to cloudy skies, which, within the hour produced snow. By late this afternoon, it was still lightly snowing. It felt like we were headed back into the dark, cold days of Winter, and I felt that darkness creeping into my home.

I turned on the lamps, put in some of my favorite music, and started making some comfort food. That day it was Curried Lentil Soup*, and the aroma of the basil and curry steaming through the kitchen cheered me and helped me realize that the snow outside really is trivial – and temporary.

It reminded me of the days when I wake up in a dark, cloudy emotional state, and how I have come to realize I need to have some emotional ‘comfort food’ to lift me – certain music I listen to; designated books to read; light and fresh air – to buoy up my spirits.

Do you have your list of emotional ‘comfort foods’ ready in case of stormy weather? When we are grieving, it is essential to have a way to ward off discouragement and depression before they settle in our soul.

In my book (SOLO – Getting It All Together When You Find Yourself Alone) I suggest several ideas to keep handy so that as soon as you sense that darkness begin to invade your soul, you can drive it away.

Begin your list today – and be prepared!

-Roslyn

*for recipe, email me at author@roslynreynolds.com

After three years of constant despair, fretting and worrying, Mrs. Susan Smith reported that her worry paid off: her son graduated last week from junior high with a perfect record.

Right.

It’s a story we’ll never see. As a matter of fact, evidence all points to the exact opposite result. Worrying about something bad that could happen has never been linked with the accomplishment of what we want to happen.

Researchers tell of the “self-fulfilling prophecy” effect that often brings to pass the very thing we worry about. Dennis Waitley, Zig Ziglar, Leslie Householder and numerous other prominent motivational speakers and authors have each promoted the idea that we should, instead of worrying about something we fear might happen, keep at the forefront of our mind that which we want to happen. We would do better to constantly think about the outcome we hope for, and feel the joy we’ll feel when it is accomplished.

Just picture yourself when you are worrying: the crease in the forehead; the downcast demeanor; the knot in the stomach; the despair. Not a pretty picture.

As a widow, I find frequent ‘opportunities’ to worry. How am I supposed to sufficiently support this family? How will my sons do without a father when they need those man-to-man talks? How will my daughters fare when they crave the safe feeling of their dad’s arms around their shoulders, and there’s no father to provide that? Who will they turn to? Will it be someone I can trust?

I have found, however, that following the suggestion of the title to a popular song is a better course: “Don’t Worry; Be Happy!”

What good does it do to worry? It darkens my outlook, saddens the whole household, and, perhaps most damaging, blinds me to the blessings that are abundant in my life and to opportunities that may be right next to me.

Be happy? I am reminded of Paul, standing before the Pharisees and the Sadducees, having been persecuted, arrested, and bound. He speaks the truth, and Ananias orders “them that stood by him to smite him on the mouth.” Forty men are conspiring to “neither eat nor drink till they had killed Paul” – and that night the Lord appears to him and says, “Be of good cheer, Paul . . .”*

Paul is in bondage, being falsely accused, abused and in pain, and still has more difficulty ahead to face, and the Lord tells him to be of good cheer.

What reason does he have to be of cheer? In John chapter 16, the Lord tells His followers, “In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”**

I believe He is telling us the same thing. I believe we can be of good cheer, in whatever circumstances we find ourselves, if we look to Him. He offers us comfort, strength, and courage. His life is the greatest example of looking beyond the difficulties of the moment to that which is truly important and eternal.

When I feel alone; when I can’t see the answers I am so desperately seeking; when I am deeply concerned about a child, or when my sorrow is nearly overwhelming – I can be of good cheer and know that as I do my best, in His time and in His way, things will work out. He is with me.

He is there for you, too.

Don’t worry, Be Happy!

In good cheer, 

Roslyn

*Acts 23:11

** John 16:33

Fresh starts.

Anticipation.

Hope!

I love the New Year.

New beginnings are vital to me. Even each new morning gives me hope because the day is yet unstained by discouragement or weariness. In the morning, I feel almost anything is possible! As our family kneels each morning in prayer, one thought often expressed is, “ . . . we are thankful for another day to live.” And truly, we are grateful for the chance to try again to be what we hope to be, and to do what we hope to do.

By the end of the day, the reality of what I didn’t accomplish can make me feel discouraged and overwhelmed if I allow it to. By the end of each year, when I evaluate what I have done and compare it with what I hoped to accomplish, it can make my heart lose hope.

But the New Year is full of hope. It reminds me that life keeps going, and I can too. It is another chance to learn, to grow, to find peace and to give love. It is a time to dream big, to think about possibilities and to believe in miracles.

So now, on January 1, 2010, what do I feel today?

Confidence that God is aware of my plight, and is watching over me, and will provide the way.

Assurance that if I keep doing my best, dedicating each day and each task to Him, He will continue to carry me, just as he has before. I will not be alone as I move through this New Year.

I love the book of John in the Bible. Christ’s words fill its pages, and today as I contemplate this upcoming year, I find great hope in verse 18:

“I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.”

May you have that same assurance. As you ponder the things you would like to do, and as you dare to hope and dream, remember Matthew 19:26: “ . . . with God all things are possible.”

Read Mark 9:23: “ . . . all things are possible to him that believeth.”

“All things . . .” Aren’t those beautiful words? We just have to believe.

It is a day of new beginnings, fresh starts, and anticipation. Our Redeemer stands ready to help us heal and help us to reach for our dreams.

May you feel Him near, and may His nearness bring you everlasting Hope.

To the future!

-Roslyn

He was so thrilled to receive, and even though it was a tiny trinket, his heartfelt gratitude was obvious. I wondered, what does it take for me to feel that depth of gratitude?

Especially in times of difficulty, how can we find something to be grateful for?

I’ve been studying the works of Leslie Householder lately. Her two books, The Jackrabbit Factor and Hidden Treasures are full of concepts and truths I’ve been searching for and I am now trying hard to understand and put into practice. One principle she teaches is that our very best position, when we are seeking more abundance in our lives, is one of gratitude. She suggests that we need to feel and express gratitude for how things are right now before we can expect more good to flow into our lives.

Thanks to Leslie, this Thanksgiving I have been able to really feel gratitude for some very challenging situations, knowing that truly, it could be so much worse. I can be thankful that it isn’t worse, and I can be grateful for the lessons I am learning, even though they may be painful ones. Truly, there is something good we can learn from every difficult situation.

As I look at my situation with new eyes, I remember the admonition in 1 Thessalonians 5:18: “In every thing give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” I have determined to do so, and so, today, I say, for everything in my life, even, and especially, the challenges:

“Oh, thank you!”

Could there be any less appealing name for what I see around my eyes in the mirror?

I first really noticed them yesterday as I was driving home. I’d been listening to the Showtime CD by the Tabernacle Choir, and when “Fill the World With Love” came on, I was overcome with emotion, and I wept. As I brushed away the tears, I glanced up at the mirror attached to the visor. I had bumped it that morning as I pushed the garage door opener, so it was hung at an odd angle. All I saw was the corner of my eye.

There they were – not just one or two, but ever so many lines, curving out from the corner of my eye. I adjusted the mirror and looked at both eyes at the same time, and sure enough, the lines had taken up permanent residence equally, evening out the effect.

Through my mind flew images from all the ads that come to my mailbox and which I see displayed on billboards lining the freeway: beautiful young women with flawless skin, next to the name of a treatment or potion that seem to promise it could make me look like she does.

I’ve seen the before and after photos of women near my age, having undergone various treatments, and how their ‘crows feet’ are diminished, and they do look younger.

I pondered, Where have the lines come from, anyway?

As I examined them, and then looked at the ones at the edges of my mouth that I found have become more pronounced, I realized most of them curve upward. That’s a good sign, I thought. At least they are a result of smiling!

I pondered all the things that had given me reason to smile over the past fifty or so years. The beauties of nature; the sweet fellowship of great friends; exquisite music; young love; holding newborns; thrilling achievements; kindnesses offered by others, both from people I’ve known and others given anonymously; deeply spiritual experiences; and budding rapport with my children as we move from a mentor-mentee relationship to fellow travelers on the pathway of life.

Were there other causes for those wrinkles?

Yes, as I thought about it, it became clear that I have a habit of squinting to see things more clearly. I know – I need to break down and buy glasses – but there was a lesson here for me, also. As I seek to see things more clearly, and as I continue on a lifelong quest for clarity and truth, my life gets better. My happiness expands; my outlook improves, and I am able to see the blessings and miracles all around me that I had been missing before.

I suppose I could pay to have those lines removed. Others have, and their skin does look smoother, and more youthful.

But maybe, at least for now, I could use the reminders they bring me, that I have so many reasons to smile, and that the strain to seek further truth is worth the effort – yes, even worth the crows feet.

I’ll keep them for now.

But I am going to come up with a better name for them!

Still smiling,

Roslyn

He had just turned three. He had awakened early in the morning calling out, “Mom, Dad? . . . Mom….Dad….?”

I am “Grandma”. I was staying there for the birth of the baby and to help them move to a new home – two very big adjustments in the young family’s life.

I hurried in to his room, calling out to him as I approached, “Grandma’s here, Jeff! Remember, Mom and Dad are at the hospital with Baby Duncan!”

I entered his room and saw him standing in the crib, his lower lip quivering and tears filling his eyes.

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”

“I want Mommy. . . I want Daddy…”

I gathered him into my arms, scooped up his favorite blankie and carried him to the rocking chair in the living room and began rocking slowly, holding him close.

“It’s hard when they are gone, isn’t it?” I felt his shoulders begin to shake as sobs racked his little body.

“I miss them…” he said between sobs.

“I know, honey, so do I. We love them, huh? And we love to be together, don’t we? And we feel sad when they are gone, don’t we?”

He nodded his head in answer to each question, still quietly weeping.

We rocked in silence for a few minutes, and as his sobs subsided they were replaced by the jagged intakes of breath that usually follow such an episode.

How could I help him focus on something happy – and change his gloomy mood? An idea came to my mind.

“Jefferson, do you know what I remember?”

He shook his head. “No, what?”

“I remember something you got for your birthday yesterday – something that grows in water – and I remember that you wanted to play with them today! Would that be a good idea?”

He sat up, turned and looked into my eyes and said, “Right now? Before breakfast?”

This would be a change from his usual routine, and it was just what he needed.

I swooped him into his high chair, filled up several small bowls with hot water, and brought out the package of tiny colored capsules. “Watch them grow into amazing animals!” the package proclaimed.

I let Jeff choose the first few and place them in the water.

As they started to change and expand, his eyes got big, and he exclaimed, “What is it? What animal is it?”

“We’ll just have to watch,” I answered. “It takes time for us to be able to tell what shape they are.”

A head popped out of one foam shape, and a leg, and I thought, Yes, it is beginning to look like an animal. Jefferson called out, “How about it’s a bouncing turtle? No, it’s a snapping turtle!’

Turning to another, he shouted, “It looks like a dromedary!”

Peering closely at the next one, he saw a tail emerge, and said, “This looks like a meercat!”

I marveled that a child just barely three years old could see such exotic animals in little non-descript sponge shapes. Then as I thought about it more, I realized that his parents have exposed him to a wide variety of books, and taken him to museums, and to the zoo, and he is familiar with many animals I would have a hard time naming correctly.

Now, months later, I am sitting at home, thousands of miles away, but that day is fresh in my mind. As I visit with women who are grieving, going through loss or disappointment, and as I reflect on my own experience, I notice that there are varying responses to grief and difficulty, and it makes me wonder:

Could it be that as we become more widely read, develop outside interests, and are actively curious, we can see more in life than before? Could our tendency to be despondent be tempered by our exposure to a wider variety of experiences?

In their book How to Make the Rest of Your Life the Best of Your Life, Art Linkletter and Mark Victor Hansen suggest that using our mind to learn new words, discover new facts, attend classes, lectures, and group discussions helps “develop our intellect and curiosity and open new horizons of inquiry”.

As Paul said in 2 Corinthians 4:16, “…the inward man is renewed day by day.” We can be renewed by what we choose to bring into our minds, and it can affect the way we see our challenges and difficulties.

Just like Jefferson. When we turned to another activity, he was able to come out of his despondency – and because of his prior exposure to a wide array of experiences, he found greater interest in his new activity, and he was able to see much more than I did.

I said, “It looks like an animal.”

He said, “It looks like a dromedary!”

I think I need a trip to the zoo!

Yours for lifelong learning,

Roslyn