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

I had just called in, a few moments late, to a seminar hosted by Heather Madder, and those were the first words I heard her speak. I immediately felt a confirmation that what she was saying was true – that I am not alone, but that there are unseen forces at work helping me.

I am studying to learn about the Internet and how to more effectively market my book and coaching services. I sometimes have thoughts that I am alone, and that it is too difficult, and that I cannot do it. Yet Heather says, “The whole universe exists to support what you want to build,” and tells us that we need to have a clear intention and belief that the answers and help we need will come quickly and easily, and that doors will open to pave our way.

Another thought I have frequently is, “I don’t have time to do all I need to.” Heather teaches that we are constantly scripting our own limitations, and that we need to be aware of thoughts like that, which become ‘programs’ we may be creating in our own lives that are holding us back.

We can change those scripts! I decided tonight as I listened to Heather that my old way of thinking and system of beliefs is not serving me! I am going to take her advice and open my spiritual eyes to the help all around me. I will envision, as she suggested, people all around the world, sitting at computers, making connections to help pave the way for my success. She also suggested there are spiritual beings ready to help us as we request that help.

I believe that. I love the promise in the scriptures:

“I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.”*

We are not alone!

I believe each of us has something to give to the world. Longfellow said,

“Time is with materials filled;
Our todays and yesterdays
Are the blocks with which we build.”

If we are to build something worthwhile to share with the world, we need to spend our time creating it – and we will need help. And I believe, with Heather, that it is there.

Open your spiritual eyes – and believe – and keep building!

*Doctrine and Covenants 84:88

I guess it might be that way for a while until I get used to the fact that she isn’t here, and won’t be, ever again.

It was just three weeks ago that the doctors at the hospital sent her home for hospice care, and we knew our time with her would be brief. We had them put the bed in a large room where there would be room for friends and family to come see her and gather at her bedside – and they did. Cousins, children, grandchildren, and friends all came to see Mom, to tell her of the love they had for her, and of her great influence on their lives, and to wish her well.

Early in the days of her care here, a friend told me that there would be angels coming and going as her time in this mortal sphere was ending. I felt them. There was a sweet spirit about her and in our home during her stay here.

Early on, she was still able to communicate just a bit. She let me know she wanted to help me – and that she didn’t want to be a burden. I think of sweet things she did or said, hoping to help lighten the load she perceived I was carrying, and it reminded me of the things she had done her whole life long – always doing something to help someone else, never thinking of herself.

I think of times I would walk into the room to see if she wanted water, or food, or needed other care, and the sweet smile that lit up her face when she recognized me.

I think of the times a family member would call on the phone, and I’d hold the phone up to her ear, and watch as the things they said brought an attempt at a word, or a sigh, or a smile.

Then, as the days went on, that smile came less and less frequently, and the recognition faded, and the responses were limited to an occasional faint squeeze of a hand, or the slight lifting of an eyebrow.

The last day, it pained me to watch her breathing. I gave her the medication that was supposed to make it easier for her, but it was never easy to watch the irregular rise and fall of her chest. Then, I stepped out of the room for a few minutes, and when I returned, she had taken her last breath, and was gone.

Although there were challenges – difficult ones – in caring for Mom, I will always be grateful for those days that I had the chance to serve her. I was not perfect at it. I wish I had done better. But I learned lessons I could not have learned any other way – and I was convinced more than ever before that Mom was a beautiful soul, and that I want to do whatever it takes to arrive at the same place she is when my turn to leave this sphere comes.

Thank you, Mom. I love you. I’ll miss you.

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

Leslie Householder, author of the books The Jack Rabbit Factor and Portal to Genius says that when we reach our low points, the very best attitude to adopt is one of gratitude. Nothing invites inspiration and goodness, hope and success into our lives like gratitude.
That song always fills me with gratitude – and tonight, by the time the singing was finished, the pain had lessened. My mind was filled with images of the beauties of creation, and I realized, once again, that no matter what problems are threatening my peace, I do have much to be grateful for.
I silently gave thanks to my Creator for the beauties He surrounds us with, for dear friends and family, and for all things that testify of His great love for us. I know He is aware of me and sends help for my challenges – and, truly, I see evidence of His love in so many ways every day. I was humbled – and felt to repent of my short-sightedness. He is there. He will provide the way. I need only believe.
“For each perfect gift of Thine
To our race so freely given,
Graces human and divine,
Flowers of earth and buds of heav’n,
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This our joyful hymn of praise.”