Life took a turn, however, on Monday afternoon. We were visiting my sister’s family at a cabin in the mountains above the Salt Lake Valley, and the cousins offered to teach my daughter, Meg, to ride a four-wheeler.

“Have fun – and be ’safety sallies,’” I called as they trooped down the cabin’s front steps. They left, joking and talking, and my sister and I settled down on the couches in the front room for a much-needed nap.

The next thing I heard was  my sister’s voice saying, “Is she okay?”, and my nephew’s voice hesitating, “Um….no…”

I awoke to see him carrying Meg into the cabin, obviously injured and in shock.

He laid her on a recliner, my sister grabbed a towel and  began tearing it into strips for bandages, and while we continued to assure Meg she would be okay, we began cleaning her wounds.

I began feeling light-headed. I’ve never been good around blood. But I was determined to stay present and to be a help, not a hindrance for Meg at this crucial time, so I sat on the floor as I attempted to wash the gravel out the palm of one of her hands, breathing deeply to keep the faintness away. We decided we’d better get her to emergency care immediately.

It seemed to take forever to drive her over the rocky roads to the nearest help in Park City, but thankfully the waiting room wasn’t too crowded, and soon we were ushered into the triage area.

As the doctors examined Meg, I became more and more relieved. No broken bones; no apparent internal injuries; no concussion – just a painful bump on her nose, a knee needing stitches and arms and hands in need of bandages for her ‘road rash’.

After the doctors made their decision and left the curtained area to get the supplies, Meg and I looked at each other, and I think we were both overcome at the same moment with the thought, “There were angels protecting you.” It was a deeply spiritual moment when we received that thought, and we knew it was true.

Later that night, Meg was lying in her bed resting when one of her cousins that had been riding an ATV behind her came to visit and see how she was doing, and he told me what he had seen from behind.

Meg had been following another cousin, who had turned to go down a hill. Meg turned too sharply, and the ATV lifted up on two wheels, then bounced down on the other two, and then completely flipped and rolled. It ended up right-side up – on top of Meg – who had landed face down in a ditch. The ATV wasn’t even touching her.

I know that for some reason, angels can’t – and don’t – prevent all tragedies. All of us who have lost any loved one are all too aware of that fact. Many of us know people who are para- or quadraplegics after incidents such as Meg’s. We were told Monday about a man whose ATV did the same thing as Meg’s – and he didn’t live.

Why was Meg spared? We may never know – but I can – and forever will express gratitude for those protecting angels, and for the answer to our prayer of that morning, asking for “protection in all that we do this day”.

As we strive to stay near to our Savior, He promises us, “For 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.”*

As widows and widowers, and those who have suffered loss, even though our lives have not turned out as we would have hoped, I believe we can see evidence of that Heavenly help, and of those angels, in our daily lives. I believe they help us ward off despair, and whisper hope to our hearts. I believe they give us courage to go out just one more day and face the world. I know they give us strength to face the tragedies life brings our way.  And, sometimes, for reasons we may never understand, I believe they perform miracles that help us see that truly, we are not alone on this journey, and that Heaven is only a prayer away.

May you more often see the influence of those angels that are “round about you”, and may you, too, feel to give thanks for that Heavenly help.

With a thankful heart,

Roslyn

*Doctrine and Covenants 84:88

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

Paul, instructing the saints in Galatia how to find their greatest happiness and peace offered the following counsel: “…by love serve one another.” We can do the same. Make a difference for someone else – create a bright spot in someone’s day; place a call to someone you know needs a lift; contact a humanitarian center and volunteer a couple of hours; deliver a handful of flowers to someone who is down. Your service can be done anonymously, or out in the open – you choose.
And do it in loving memory of your loved one.
Yes, they are gone – but we are still here, and I believe that we each have something good to give to the world. No matter how small our offering may seem, we need to give it – for the world’s sake, and for our own.
I think I’ve decided what I’m going to do. I am getting excited thinking that those who’ve gone beyond this life may be able to look down and smile that we are remembering them this way.
I know I’m going to look heavenward and whisper,
“This one’s for you!”
In loving memory,
Roslyn

P.S. Once you’ve completed your service, I invite you to my facebook page (search “SOLO – Getting It All Together”) to post what you did – remember you can do it anonymously if you wish – and let’s share what good was brought into the world in memory of those we are remembering!

Each talk focused on the different ways Mom’s life blessed and lifted others, and how her example can help each of us make a difference for those around us. The thought came repeatedly to mind that we have no idea how much time we each have on this earth, and how fleeting time can be, and that if we are to be like Mom, we need to be focused on doing whatever good we can in the time that we have.

I remembered a poem I learned in my youth:

Do all the good you can
By all the means you can
In all the ways you can
For all the people you can
In whatever place you can.

Mom did. Wherever she went, she left a trail of goodness.

As the crowd left the flower-bedecked graveside, I stood next to my Uncle Wayne. My emotions were close to the surface, and I found it hard to speak. He noticed and said, “You know, you’ll find that one day, the pain leaves – and the beautiful memories come flooding in – and that’s what you hang onto.”

He is right. I didn’t even have to wait until the pain left. In spite of the ache in my heart, beautiful memories are flooding into my mind – and I am cherishing them.

Thanks for the memories, Mom. Thanks for a great life, well-lived. Thanks for raising me with the knowledge that this life isn’t the end, and that I will see you again. That future meeting will be an added incentive to live like you did, so I can be with you once more.

I love you Mom. You’ll ever be close to my thoughts.

Hanging on to the memories,

Roslyn

Three days ago my step-father called me.

“Ros, there’s something wrong with your mother.”

I stopped what I was doing and drove immediately over to their home, twenty minutes away.

I found Mom, age 88, in her recliner, head bowed, slowly rocking. I took her hand.

“Mom, it’s Ros…”

No response.

Dad told me she’d been like that for over six hours – not answering when he talked to her, not responding to anything he said or did.

My brother-in-law Brian arrived and we rushed her to the hospital, where they quickly took her back and began the assessment and testing process.

As the evening wore on, family members began to arrive at the hospital. The doctors took Mom away for a brain scan, and after diagnosing the results, the doctors called us together for a family meeting.

“Your mother has had a subdural hemorrhage, and the pressure it is putting on the brain is causing loss of function. We could do surgery to drain it, but due to her age and physical condition, she most likely wouldn’t survive the surgery. Without the surgery, because she can’t swallow and has lost so many other functions, she may live for ten days – maybe less. Your family needs to make some decisions.”

Dad began weeping, and the rest of us all looked at each other as the doctor left the room to give us time to discuss the options. We referred to Mom’s living will, and realized that if we were to honor her wishes, we would not put her through the surgery. We decided to do all we could to make her last days comfortable. Financially, a care center wasn’t really an option – so we chose to have her transferred to my home so I could help care for her while caring for my children who are still living at home.

We met with the Hospice team; those compassionate people who help make the end-of-life process as bearable as possible. Arrangements were made; the hospital bed was delivered, and soon the medical transport team arrived and brought Mom in on a gurney.

As I watched her being carried in, I wondered what the next days would hold. Would I be able to provide the care she needs? The aides will only be here for a few minutes each day, and other than that, Mom’s care is up to me. How will I handle it? What will it be like to care for her as she approaches the final curtain of death, and enters the next stage life?

I find I am apprehensive and unsure. Can I deal with death this closely? I have to trust that God will give me the strength to do what needs to be done.

Once again, my life journey is heading uphill. I pray for strength and courage as the ascent steepens, and as, once again, I take one plodding step after another into the darkness.

Once again in God’s hands,

Roslyn

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

Some women are abandoned by a spouse who no longer values the vows taken years before, and still others have had to seek escape from a marriage that has become life-threatening.

No matter the cause, there was always that moment when the realization hit – things are not going the way I had planned, and they are not in my control. We sometimes approach life thinking that our plans and hopes and dreams create the path we will tread. And although it is good to make plans, and to have hope and to dream dreams, life has a way of reminding us that we live in an imperfect world. There will be unexpected, unplanned events that will change the course of our life, and that serve as a reminder that often, life hangs by a thread, and we are completely at the mercy of a loving Father.

Just such an event occurred in my life Tuesday morning. My son-in-law called to tell me that my daughter had gone into labor two months early, and had just given birth to a tiny, three-pound, fourteen-ounce baby girl.

I changed all my plans for the week and made the long drive to the neighboring state where she and her husband attend the university. As I hurried into the hospital I tried to prepare myself for what I might see, but when my son-in-law guided me into the Newborn Intensive Care Unit, it took my breath away to see how small she really was.

She was laid on a slanted warming table, with monitors taped to her chest and stomach, a hood attached to her head that held two oxygen tubes in place over her nose, a tube in her mouth, another monitor attached to one foot, and an IV in her hand.

My daughter was standing at the side of the table, gently stroking the little bit of soft dark hair that was exposed through the hood. We embraced, and as I looked into her weary eyes and saw signs of the trauma and shock she had been through, I perceived that same thought: ‘”Things are not going the way I had planned, and they are not in my control.”

That little life is in the hands of God, and every moment she lives is a miracle. We are so grateful for the technology that is helping her to overcome the huge disadvantages of not being able to develop fully in the womb. But this afternoon as I walked the hospital halls, my mind full of the many difficulties she faces, I realized that there are probably many times when our own lives are in a dangerous place, and we may not even be aware of it.

One mis-step; one turn in the wrong direction, one random act of a complete stranger, or one natural disaster and our lives could be drastically changed or even ended.

We truly are in the hands of God. Though life takes unexpected turns, and though we feel totally out of control, we need to ask ourselves, whose hands would we rather be in? I believe we are learning the lesson of trust on this mortal journey, and I seem to be a slow learner. But each time I am in a frightening situation and I remember Who is really in charge, I can find peace as I submit to His will and change my plans to more closely follow His.

As John Nicholson said, “We must the onward path pursue – as wider fields expand to view, and follow Him unceasingly, Whate’er our lot or sphere may be. *

With you, in the hands of God,

Roslyn

*Come Follow Me, p.116 Hymns

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.”

It was his birthday. He’d been so excited – even thrilled – when he had seen the “skuut” bike he’d received. He squealed, “A bike?! A bike?!”

He put on the helmet immediately and began to walk the bike around and around the living room.

His father, (my son-in-law, Grant), capturing it all on video, asked Jefferson, “Do you want to go outside and ride your bike?”

Jefferson answered with his enthusiastic phrase that always makes me smile: “Of COURSE!”

I followed as Grant took him down the three flights of stairs to the sidewalk that winds through their apartment complex, and showed Jefferson how he could sit on the bike seat and push with his feet, but Jeff wasn’t interested. He was comfortable with straddling the bike and walking, step-by-step traversing the concrete pathway circling the apartment building.

“Jeff, don’t you want to try riding it? You can sit down and push with your feet,” I encouraged.

“No, it’s okay,” he responded, his eyes on the sidewalk ahead, and intently walking forward.

Grant and I smiled at each other. It couldn’t be very fun. Ahead we saw a small playground with a slide and a swing, and Jefferson headed straight toward it, gladly abandoning his bike to climb up the ladder, slide down the slide, and then go for a swing.

After awhile, Grant asked, “Are you ready to ride your bike back home?”

Jefferson slid down out of the swing and walked over to the bike. With noticeably less excitement than the first time, he dutifully buckled on his helmet, and straddled the bike for the uphill trip home.

What must he have been experiencing? I wondered what he was thinking. As we were finally approaching the stairs leading to his apartment, he stopped, started to unbuckle his helmet, sighed, and said,

“You can take this one back to the store now.”

It was so sweetly said. He appreciated the thought – but it had been nothing like his expectations. It just hadn’t been fun, and he wanted to trade it in on something better!

It reminded me of so much of life. We think of something we want, and we build up expectations of what it will be like. We have such high hopes!

Then, when we get what we wanted, and it’s less exciting or more work than we expected, and it’s just not fun anymore, we want to trade it in. We want to make a change, give up, or move on.

However, we know something that Jefferson has yet to learn. There isn’t anyplace where we can take what life dishes up and say, “You can have this back. Could I please have a better one?”

We have to deal with what we are given. Thoreau reminded us of that when he said, “Man is the artificer of his own happiness.” We can choose to be happy even when circumstances aren’t ideal. We can learn new things that will help us find the good in our situation.

Grant didn’t return the bike. He knows that Jefferson will soon come to love his bike. As he learns how to balance, and how to make it go, he will find some of his happiest moments sailing along the pavement.

We need to decide to make the best of life – whatever circumstances come to pass – and have faith that if God allowed it, He will also give us the courage and strength to live through it – and learn and grow from it.

I have always loved Victor Hugo’s words:

Be like the bird

That, pausing in her flight

Awhile on boughs too slight,

Feels them give way

Beneath her and yet sings,

Knowing that she hath wings.

We, too, have wings! Our faith in God allows us to rise above life’s challenges and difficulties and not be lost in the fog of despair and discouragement.

When we want to trade in what we’ve been given, we must remember: “With God, nothing is impossible.” And, “I can do all things through Christ, which strengtheneth me.” We can find the good, in any place God puts us.

“Ah, great it is to believe the dream

As we stand in youth by the starry stream;

But a greater thing is to fight life through,

And say at the end, “The dream is true!”

-Edwin Markham

Seeking the good in every day,

-Roslyn

Several children raised their hands and offered their answers, ranging from being nicer to siblings to being more obedient to their parents.

Then one small child raised his hand and said, “Not me! I wouldn’t do anything different!”

Oh, to be able to say that – and to say it with confidence!

In the book Les Miserables, the good Bishop of Digne, lived so that he could say that. When Jean Valjean, an ex-convict, seeks shelter in the bishop’s home, the Bishop treats Valjean with the same kindness and courtesy he would a nobleman. When Valjean expresses his disbelief at being so treated, the bishop explains;

This house is not mine but Christ’s. It does not ask a man his name but whether he is in need. You are in trouble, you are hungry and thirsty, and so you are welcome…Let me assure you, passer-by though you are, that this is more your home than mine. Everything in it is yours. Why should I ask your name? In any case i knew it before you told me.

“The man looked up with startled eyes. ‘You know my name?’

‘Of course,’ said the bishop. ‘Your name is brother.’”

If we could see clearly we would see that we are all, truly, brothers and sisters. How our interactions would change if we remembered that!

May we each live each day so that we can, with assurance, say that we wouldn’t have to do anything differently if we could see the Savior standing there, where He actually is, right next to us.

In His love,
Roslyn

* see www.defordmusic.com