Disneyland with Besties

The "inner circle" so named by my friend MaryAnn's son consists of me and four close friends.  I am a people person and have many wonderful people in my life who I consider my close friends.  These four are women I have traveled with over the course of thirty plus years.  With my last four kids out of the house serving missions, my friends have become even more important to me.  You might well ask, "aren't you married, Jane?"  Well, yes, I am....  Jerry, of course, is a very important person being my husband and all.  and I do relish time spent with just him in the quietness of our home.  He has even started accompanying me on my errands which is rather unusual for him.  However, he does not like to spend money and has been fairly vocal about his dislike for Disneyland, a favorite place of mine.

   For my 58th birthday, my friends and I decided we were going to make it to Disneyland before we were too old to hobble around.  MaryAnn was unable to come, but Dorma, Debbie, Lori and I were stoked on the idea.  I saved some Christmas money, (thanks, JoAnn--my generous mother-in-law) and we were able to get a good deal on a flight.  Dorma got us some cheap tickets to Disneyland with her military discount, and we were on our way!!
  We left on my birthday, and met up in California with Debbie, our friend from Moses Lake, Washington.  We immediately made our way to Disneyland where too much fun awaited us.  It really is a happy place to be, and we saw lots of young families and young couples.  I use the term "young" because it appeared to me that we were the oldest people in the park.  Obviously this was not the case, but it did seem that most people our age were accompanying their kids and grandkids.  Frankly, they looked a little tired.  We were re-energized, delighted to be together and in the "happiest place on earth".  We walked and walked, took in the sights, rode every ride to be ridden (maybe not such a good idea) and loved every minute of our adventure.  I will not soon be riding the Matterhorn again in this lifetime.  Lori claimed that you can't go to Disneyland and not ride the Matterhorn.  I knew it was a bad idea, but I gamely wedged myself in the seat, made sure my body was not going anywhere, and hung on for dear life. My body stayed put, but, alas, my head did not.   I heard people screaming in delight, and in my mind, I was screaming too although I  was being whipped around too hard for any sound to come from my mouth. Lori, who was in the car behind me,  claimed my head bobbled exactly like those bobble-heads you used to see  in the back of people's cars. My brain felt fuzzy for an hour afterward.  A root canal with no anesthia would have been more fun.

  It rained a bit, and we were fine with it because California needed it so badly.  We were not going to let a little precipitation ruin our good time.   It was a little nippy, so we all purchased four warm, red sweatshirts with large letters labeling us BEACH PATROL.  This made it very easy to pick each other out in a crowd and also helped everyone in Disneyland to spot us from a distance.  We were in such a congenial mood that we didn't mind when we got some odd questions from people.  Generally, they wanted to know if we were in a club or something.  One lady asked if we were were lifeguards!  "Yup, we are senior citizens who like to hang out on beaches waiting to save people"....  One old guy who brandished a nice cane would wave it high in the air when he saw us, shouting "Save me, Girls!!"

The rain politely waited until we were inside the attractions and then misted gently when we were out and walking.  The next day the sun was out again, and we watched parades , shows and fireworks.  It was a grand way to spend my birthday and one I shall not soon forget.  We decided we were up for a little more entertainment and decided to make a visit to Universal Studios on Saturday.  We were all quite proud that we held up so well in spite of all the walking (and my bad knees) and commended each other on a great vacation and a great time had by all!

   We told ourselves we were in fine shape for our ages but decided our minds were going when  we arrived at the Salt Lake Airport with no memory of where we had parked the car.  It was soon apparent that none of us remembered much of anything after  boarding the shuttle.  We vaguely remember the shuttle driver telling us to take note, but we apparently paid her no mind.   I tried to convince the others that our car was in a section with a  rhyming alphabet and number such as B3, but it was not the case. I am not sure where that came from--Maybe the last few years of teaching letters, numbers  and rhyming words?   We casually disembarked the shuttle thinking that we could transverse the general area (which was huge) in the dark and cold and surely come across the car amidst hundreds of vehicles.  After ten minutes of futile searching we sheepishly made our way to one of the stations and called the emergency number.  Cody and his truck showed up , lights flashing where he tried to tell us that "this happens often".  He threw our suitcases in the back of his vehicle and we climbed in to go  looking for Lori's Ford Escort.  We re-traced the route we took and found it without too many minutes passing.  Cody was all smiles, and so patient as he led the way to the exit.  We were snickering just a bit over the occurence and grateful that we were on our way home.  Dorma tried to give the attendant a megaplex show ticket  when asked for the parking ticket, and we became quite hysterical with laughter.  She never did find it, and as we looked old and tired; the man behind the glass was filled with either compassion or exasperation.   He told us the approximate  fee for five days, and we soon were on the way home.  A fitting end to a great time with friends.  Life is so much better when you can find things to laugh about, and with this group of friends, there is always plenty of material!

My 58th birthday--I think I have a picture of my great grandmother looking pensive like this.

Disneyland, here we come!!

me, Lori , Debbie, and Dorma

Rain Rain  go away, we girls want to play!

The Tower of Terror was more fun than I thought!

Ready to come home?  Not!!

Universal Studios

Dorma making "the call"

Cody, the kind  rescuer of forgetful "older" women

Fireworks are always thrilling if you're young at heart

His weight made me think of mine.....

Last week I got a picture from Matthew sitting with his companion.  He did not look like the same boy I sent on a mission almost a year ago.  He looked different.  About thirty pounds different!  He has said in recent e-mails that he has been biking and becoming very "buff".  I believe that if he stays "buff" , people will finally be able to see the difference between my identical twin boys!  They have always looked a little different to the immediate family.  When they were born, however, I actually did paint Mark's fingernails so that for the first month or so I would not make a mistake.  Soon their personalities emerged and we were able to clearly see there were differences.  For most of their almost twenty years,  they have been the same height and weight.....the picture I saw refuted this.

Elder Taylor and Elder Cuestas

 I am certainly not bothered by the fact that Matthew has put on a little weight.  I hear wonderful things about him from his mission president and wife, and I am much more concerned about his work ethic and his spiritual development.  I just know it has made me think about the weight that I have put on a since the boys' births and wonder now if I have changed in other positive ways.

I remember being sooo pregnant with them the Christmas of 1993, about six weeks before their birth.  I just wanted my pre-pregnant body back.  I requested a bike for Christmas.  I was going to ride up and down the streets of Washington Terrace with my new postpartum body and take back my former self.  Little did I know that I would spend the next few years in survival mode and that included ingesting a whole lot of chocolate.

CHRISTMAS 1993

The weight has come and gone, but mostly stayed, and now it is not just about looking a certain way.  My 58th birthday is Wednesday, and my knees are pretty bad.  I need to concentrate on eating healthy, and strive just a little harder (okay ..a lot harder) to get in some exercise, portion control and to develop self mastery over a whole lot of things.

This mission was to be not only an self improvement  experience for my kids, but also for their mother.  I wanted to better myself, and so far, have not done much in any one area.  I find myself still struggling to just work, and get through each day with a positive attitude.  I am thankful for my many blessings,  and want to feel gratitude instead of weariness.  By the way, that bike never did get used much, and sadly went the way of most of our other exercise equipment.

I am going to start small, and cut out sugar from my diet!  Yikes!!!  That does sound drastic, but I think it is necessary.  I am sadly addicted to having a little something every day,  and it doesn't help that I have a box of treats under my couch for the piano students.

The boys are turning 20 on February 6th, and I can scarcely believe it!

MATTHEW AND MARK --ONE YEAR

MATTHEW AND MARK--19 YEARS

                                HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOYS!!!!!  WE LOVE YOU!!!!        

Warm and Cold

Mark says that this snow was about all they got in December and it is all gone now.

Mark, Elder Guzman and the ward missionaries.

preparing to bundle up

She loves her California winter

Bethany's home in Canyon Country California

Which road would be "less traveled"?

Elders Taylor and Cuevas preparing to go riding.  Matthew has been on a bike his entire mission.

This is "so" Rachel.  She likes photos to prompt questions.....Not sure which question to ask!! 

Ben, this is for you....her "selfies" drive him crazy

Two missionaries are cold, one not so much, and one is living in paradise.  Poor Matthew and Rachel have been been part of the artic freeze, and have had to stay in a couple of days because of the extreme cold.

They all have good attitudes about the weather (who wouldn't have a nice feeling about the weather in California?)  However, Matthew and Rachel say that the cold gives them a little extra time to study the Gospel.  They have not always been able to go out every day, and Matthew has played Risk a bit (is that an approved missionary activity?) Mark loves Vernon and the people he has met.  He claims it is like his second home now.  Matthew is plugging along with Elder Cuevas, who is from Guatemala.  Most people do not want to hear their message, but he is gamely still trying to talk to people.  Mark is determined to be happy in spite of the lack of work, and Bethany is finding out that missions are challenging.  Rachel is ready for a change , I think, but writes pretty optimistic letters.

I am in awe of their determination and fortitude.  I am cold, and impatient right now...and I am in my own home!  Missions are hard, and I told them that before they left.  Rachel wrote in one letter, "missions are all about getting out of your comfort zones, and I am just going to embrace this new adventure."  She said that her mission president used to say, "There's no growth in the comfort zone and no comfort in the growth zone."   She goes on to say, "  It is part of our spiritual nature to continually progress and learn.  That's our whole reason for being here on Earth.  If we tell ourselves that we're comfortable with where we are and see no reason to change, we are denying ourselves the opportunity to become more like God.  God has given us his power to learn and progress so that one day we can become more like Him.  Everything we go through in life is to prepare us for our life to come.  God gives us certain trials and obstacles to shape us into who he needs us to become.  He has a divine purpose for us and he has given us tools to help us fulfull that purpose."

She then quotes 2 Corinthians 4 17-18, "For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory: while we looke not as the things which are not seen, but as the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal."

It is wonderful to hear of their growth.  I must admit it spurs me to try to be a little better.  I am presently in one of  my of  least favorite months of the year, and do not ask myself to do much of anything outside of work and piano lessons.  I tell myself I will feel better as February comes on...

I just read "The Rent Collector" and I am filled with gratitude for all that I possess in the way of family, friends and spiritual blessings.  I am not living in a dump in Cambodia, and my kids are healthy and happy, unlike the main character in this wonderful story.  Cultivating an air of gratitude for everything I possess is my goal this year.

"Come what may and love it"

Celebrating the new year with a colonoscopy!

A couple of weeks ago I decided to schedule myself for a couple of dreaded tests, a mammogram and a colonoscopy.  I was long overdue for both of them but kept putting them off for a myriad of reasons.  I hate medical procedures of all kinds, and I dislike taking the time for appointments.  This is not a good reason for avoiding these procedures!  Too many of my friends are cancer survivors, and my own father died of colon cancer at the young age of 56.  My son Ben, who is only 29 years old, had a colonoscopy last year where they found polyps but his repeat colonoscopy showed none this year, thank goodness!!!

   My father, Thiel Johnson, was just about the best person you could ever know.  When he died, people came from all walks of life to pay their respects to a man who was kind, honest and giving. At his funeral, President Harris said, "Thiel Johnson was a man without guile" and he was....
He often claimed, "he was a jack of all trades, master of none."  He could build, wire, plumb and cement just about anything you wanted done.   I always lament the fact that he probably could have helped me do just about anything around the house I needed fixed or built, but that is not why I miss him.  He was so funny, so smart and so very loving.  When I think of him, I remember his huge smile, and his talent for whistling just about any song. He would also dance a little jig in front of my friends to embarrass me.  It looked a little like a strange type of  clogging, but it was the Thiel Johnson quickstep.

 At night I would lay in my bed and listen to him play his mouth organ as he called it (harmonica).  I grew up loving the hymns because I heard them played by ear on that harmonica.   He loved the  'old' country music, and I grew up listening to the verses of songs like "down in the west Texas town of Laredo" and "Don't you listen to him, Dan, he's a devil, not a man, and he's searched the burning sand for water".  I have no idea who sang these songs, it has been much too long.  Dad died September 10, 1979 from colon cancer, and I miss him still so much. The dead seem to grow more perfect with years, and although in my mind's eye now, I see him as such...he was as human as the rest of us.  His language could be a little salty when he got mad, but he always quickly apologized and when illness took him to his bed, he became so humble and contrite.  As he grew sicker, he would take to walking the floor above my bedroom at night,  pacing back and forth with the pain, playing the hymns while I listened in bed... tears filling my eyes.

He was a very spiritual man, and the gospel of Jesus Christ was everything to him.  I grew up watching him read his scriptures, and talk to us of the Plan of Salvation.  He knew the Savior intimately because he was a true disciple of Christ. He helped just about everyone, and was the neighborhood handyman.

 Mom met Dad at Utah University and their first date was getting ice cream.  Dad had just gotten his cone, and turned around to speak to my mom, and a bird flying overhead deposited a little something right on his cone.  They always got a good laugh over that!

Dad was very tidy, a quality that I did not inherit.  I am my mother's daughter, always cooking , reading, preparing and trying vainly to organize  without cleaning up the previous mess.  The shed he built in our backyard was a beautiful thing to behold though it was tiny and humble.  Every tool, gadget, or piece of equipment to build or fix something was stored in an orderly fashion.  He kept lemon drops there in a drawer, and I would sneak in and sit on his stool, and hide out from the problems of my adolescent world.  It was a little sanctuary to me where I could spend a few minutes away from the outside world.  I was a recluse in Junior High, hated it in fact, and just wanted to be home with my books and my cats.

He went to the doctor because of some rectal bleeding, and had a colonoscopy.  He had stage 4 cancer at that point, and he had some surgery to remove what they could at the time.  He then had chemotherapy that seemed to go on for months.  At the time of his death the tumors were shrinking, but we all thought that the chemotherapy had taken its toll.  He lay in his bed in our guest bedroom , and his wife and his daughters were his hospice nurses.  Liz would lay on the floor some nights by his bedside, and I would administer the  morphine shots.  He was so skinny that he wore his wrist watch around the top of his arm, and I would have to hunt for any fat deposits on his wasted body to inject him. I remember once tripping and spilling some soup on him, and feeling so bad.  He took my hand and kissed it, saying, "you're my angel, Jane". We would hand him a plastic urinal, and he spilled it once.  I , at the tender age of 21, undressed him, and changed his bedding while he sat and cried, shivering on the chair.  "I hate you to see your  Dad like this, Jane" he wept.  "Oh, Dad" , I replied, "you changed me all the time when I was little, it's my turn now".  Then I was the one who cried all the way to college classes.

 Mom was teaching school, and we needed all the help we could get with Dad's care.
 When we were not there, the Craythornes next door came and sat with Dad.  It was all quite horrible keeping the death watch, and not knowing when it would happen.  Thank goodness we were all there when it did, and I knew the time was close when I saw Dad holding up his hand to someone unseen, yet  very near and whispering, "help me".  He searched the room just as my mother did when she died, and I know that the veil is very thin between this world and the spirit world.  I entered the room to see how he was doing, and found him motionless on the bed with his eyes open, unseeing.  I called to mom, and I remember her saying, "Oh ,Thiel, have you gone?"  We gently closed his eyes and called the mortuary, and I watched my mom weep as she said goodbye for a season to her companion of thirty years.  Just a few weeks earlier Dad had crawled from his bed adjacent to their bedroom to her bedside.  She woke to find him crying as he cradled her in her arms.  He said, "Fay, you have and always will be the most beautiful woman to me, thank you for being my wife and the mother of our children."  What a tender moment that memory holds for me, and such an example of true devotion.

I had a beautiful dream sometime later where I saw my dad enter the kitchen where I sat, and talked with me face to face as in mortality.  I had prayed that I might remember the robust, funny guy I knew as my father and not the shrunken, sick shell of a man he became.  He looked so good!  The dream was startingly vivid, and I remember seeing the scars on his forehead, and his finger.  He was dressed in snowy white clothes, and he laughed and made references to all of us, and said how happy he was.  He mentioned our neighbors, the Somervilles, and I did not want him to go when he said he must leave.
I awoke from this dream so very grateful for the knowledge I have that I will see him again, and all others who have departed this earth.  Elder Russell M. Nelson said that" death is a gift from God because death allows your body to return home to Him.  From an eternal prospective, death is only premature for those who are not prepared to meet God."

I searched for pictures of Dad as I wanted to post them, and cannot put my finger on them (big surprise).  I found this not so good one of when I graduated from high school about three years before he died, and where he looked like the man I remember.

 And so, as I stayed up all last night, "making bathroom trips" in preparation for my colonoscopy....I thought about Dad and how he might have been with us a few more years if he had had the procedure done at age fifty.  I fixed myself up two icy pitchers of crystal light and added a little Mountain Dew for good measure.  Just saying I will probably not drink either one of those for a good long time!   The prep is horrible, but the results don't last forever (although in my case it was a very long night) ... I think I  may have overdone it with the powder!

All went well, and there were no polyps, so I am good for another three years!  I hope my siblings are falling suit with their colonscopies as colon cancer is certainly preventable these days.  I can at least say that I accomplished a couple of things this Christmas holiday.

I am hoping the new year brings much joy to you all along with the trials that are part of life.  I am not even going to embarrass myself by claiming resolutions to lose weight and exercise this year....(I have to try a little) because for thirty five years my journal entries are all the same thing!  "I need to lose weight, exercise, and get healthy, clean my house, get organized, yada, yada, yada...."   For right now, I don't have cancer, and I am happy to spend another year being with the people I love, writing others whom I love, and just being "me".

That "me" was raised by two wonderful parents,  who while certainly not perfect, tried their best to love their kids and teach them.   I am so grateful to Thiel and Fay Johnson.  Love you, Mom and Dad!!!!

Christmas Skyping

Alex and Dakota laughing with Rachel

Carly and me talking with Sister Bethany Taylor

Matthew can't believe how big Ruby is getting!

       This Christmas season was crazy in so many ways!  I thought it would be less hectic having four kids in the mission field, but getting those packages out, and letters written was a big project for me.  I am a procrastinator by nature, but those missionary packages needed to be out by a certain date, and I , being the Mom, was the one to do it.  Now I must admit that Bethany got "two" copies of the Carpenter's CD and Rachel is good for pens the rest of her mission.  It reminds me of when I was little, and my mom would put the wrong thing or  quantity in our Christmas stockings.  It's all good!!
We really had a nice Christmas and I enjoyed some peace and quiet until two days before Christmas.

 My niece Heather and her husband, Bob, plus four daughters came for Christmas Eve.  I warned Anne that she better "forget" herself and enjoy her grandkids and children, and she was actually pretty good.  For those of you who do not know my sister....I am not being mean, just practical.  Her son Jonathan, his significant other, Cassie, and their sweet baby, Zayla,  came and ate soup and rolls with us.

   Then it was time to cook up three breakfast casseroles, sticky buns, chop up fruit, and clean up the mess from the peanut brittle and fudge.  As I cook like a maniac, I remember the words of one of my ESL students, Eduardo, who upon hearing that I cook a lot at Christmas...said, "no wonder you're fat, Mrs. Taylor!"  Those words still pierce my heart as I furiously whip up way too much food.  My mother showed love that way, and I am afraid that I am much the same way.  Unfortunately, little Eduardo is probably wiser than his years!!

   Christmas morning was wonderful because we had the anticipation of FOUR phone calls/skyping from our missionaries.  Mark called about 11:00 a.m.  Bethany skyped with us at noon, Rachel followed at 1:00 p.m. and Matthew skyped with us at three o'clock.  It was so much fun to see their faces that I must admit to feeling a little gypped when it came to Mark.  His mission does not skype, but we had a good conversation.
  They all looked so good, and sounded wonderful.  It was so good to see their faces, and to hear that they are doing well, and enjoying their missions for the most part.  I am so proud of their diligence in keeping the commandments and can certainly see their progress in so many areas.

  The missionary moms of our ward were asked to speak in Sacrament meeting today.  Alisa got out of it because she was in St. George, but Melodee, Vickie and I spoke about Mitchell , Paige and my four. Drake is in Russia, where Alisa just reported that a bomb went off in Volgograd, not too far from him.  He is so positive and doing so well despite the problems there.  The support for our missionaries from our ward has been phenomenal, and we are so blessed!!  It is my fervent hope that they are all safe and happy in the next year and that that the desires of their hearts are fulfilled.  Paige and Rachel will be home this next year, and the boys and Bethany will soon follow.  Best wishes for a Happy New Year!!!


 

"tis the season to be jolly" even if you only have nine forks

My last post was sort of whiny, so I wanted to wait and  write when I was not feeling cold and anxous.  Hmmm...that will not happen until Spring, so I decided to write about my gratitude for my life, for things cold and dark, and for things sunny and warm. I am listening to Adam play the piano,  and I think about the reason my kids are on missions.  He  stopped in to have some dinner after working late at the Hospital, and now he is playing the piano.  It happened to be "O Holy Night", a song which has always been the epitomy of what Christmas is all about.  I feel such reverence for the Savior when I hear this song, and it never fails to bring me to tears.  Adam was always one of my kids who loved to play, and I am grateful he still enjoys it.  I am so fortunate to have about 42 kids make their way into my house weekly to have piano lessons.  It is hard at times when I am tired from a day at school, but I am so lucky to have had music in my home.  It elevates my mood and makes me so happy.
 
   I got a call from Sister Vallinga, who is Matthew's mission mom.  She related a story where they recently had a zone conference where Matthew was to play a solo on his violin for the musical number.  A visiting general authority was there, and Matthew was pretty nervous.  As he drew his bow to commence playing, an audible "PING' resounded in the room.  His G string had broken, and he looked helplessly at the men sitting on the stand.  His mission president arose, and said, "Elder Taylor, if you can continue to play, we would love to hear it, but if you cannot make it work, that is okay!"  Matthew  said a silent prayer and pulled  his bow across the violin and begin to play very gently the hymn  "Be still My Soul".  He made it through the number and everyone exclaimed that it was beautiful.  Matthew later wrote me that he had a "little" help and also that the number had very few notes played on the now-absent string.  

  I could not help but muse about the many times that I  cannot accomplish something, but that lack thereof is often made up by the Savior.  At this time of year, we think of Christ, we rejoice in His birth and in his ministry.   He can make up the difference, and I am so thankful for the Atonement.

    I am pretty much inept at a lot of things and it causes feelings of inadequacy and self pity.  I have always been able to put together a meal, however, but tonight it went south.  We were having the missionaries, and I was having chicken parmesian, (thanks Megan Eborn) .  It usually is quite delicious, and I was going to put together some garlic bread with cheese (usually yummy, a nice green salad, jello salad, peas and carrots with chocolate chip cookies for desert.  Ben and Jess, Layne and Emily, Alex and Daniel and Elders Chalk and Holman were coming.  At the last minute, I forgot the bread in the oven---burned the edges---couldn't find the rest of the spaghetti---killed the peas and carrots---and put the croutons in the salad too early (mushy).  Ben ran around trying to clean up after me as I sawed burnt edges from the garlic bread, dripped some sauce on the chicken  and tried to find the missing spaghetti noodles.  Ben is a neat freak, and it pains him greatly to see spaghetti sauce everywhere, and pans and pots piled as I tried to rescue dinner.  I start feeling anxous, and then the missionaries arrive.  I throw up my hands, and tell everyone to sit, whispering to Jerry, "don't eat any spaghetti".  We sat down to dinner, and I felt like we were ready to partake of the "five loaves and fishes" because of the small quantity of spaghetti.  I did find the noodles after searching one more drawer, and Ben had them on to cook.  Now, for the most embarrassing part of the dinner.  Unbeknownst to me, a knife thief has entered our home and we have none save nine forks!!!!  Seriously folks, who only has nine forks?   Jerry was the one assigned  to set the table, and I guess he thought we could make do with a spoon and a knife.  When I saw Daniel trying to eat balance spaghetti on his knife, I washed mine and gave it to him.  How pathetic is that?  

    Then, as we sat and talked with our missionaries and listened to their message, it occured to me that we were in a very warm place with people that we loved and that we had food to eat.  So many people

  cannot say that, and I feel blessed that I am comfortable when it is cold outside.   I have friends, family and a testimony of Jesus Christ.  I don't think the fact that I don't have enough forks can alter that fact.  Things often disappear from our house, and I don't have an answer for it.  I have no talent for organization, but I can keep trying.  In the meantime I will try to remember what I have to be grateful for and not berate myself for the things I am not....and they are many!! 

 I will listen to my kids play Christmas songs, rejoice in the season and continue to find the things in life that make me happy.   I know that there are people  who are suffering right now, and I will try to remember that while they have trials, I have minor annoyances.  I hope to focus more on what is right with my life, and to let the little things go.  I am so grateful for a loving Savior who knows us , and that someday all will be made right.  I believe it was President Gordon B. Hinckley who said, "have patience for the small trials in your life, and courage for the big ones, and when you go to bed at night, remember that God is in charge."

  

 

Adam Michael Taylor

Winter Wonderland? I don't think so....

Well, it's that time of year.  No, I am not thinking of the holidays, but rather the dark, cold days that lay ahead.  There are those times that I find beauty in the new fallen snow, or watch in awe as the street lights illuminate the falling snowflakes.  I love the way the trees look that first morning after a snowfall as their bare, heavily laden branches sparkle when the sun comes up.  Mostly, however, I just try to tough it out until Spring comes.  The night falls, and I find myself wanting to just crawl in bed.  I miss the sounds of kids playing outside in the summer evening,  and the sprinklers wetting down the freshly mown grass.  I like seeing little sprouted things coming up through the earth, and soo  do not like the demise  of the many beautiful flowers I nurtured all summer.  Clearly, I am not a winter person.  I hate being cold.  Don't even get me started on the driving conditions.  I come home white-knuckled after driving in a winter storm. Are there fun sports in winter?  I feel too old to personally like doing any of that now, although I love watching the Olympics.  People laughed at me when I tried ice skating.  Can I help it that my family has genetically weak ankles?   I really tried to like skiing, but was no good at it at all. I have no athletic abilities, but thought I could have a go at it.   I quit altogether when I fell off the ski lift and tore up my knee badly (the same knee I am having surgery on this Thursday, by the way.  For the last thirty years the pain has reminded me that snow is , indeed, my enemy.

  I feel guilty for my bad attitude.  I know we need the snow.  I realize that it will bring us much needed water and that we need plenty of it to enjoy the many pleasures of summer.  Still, I endure much of it and scoff at my friends who insist they enjoy the winter.  Robin loves to cuddle up in her spotless house and cross stitch away all comfy and cozy.  I don't have a spotless house, and I don't cross stitch.  The darkness closes in and I don't even feel like cleaning.  I eat more because I feel anxious, and that is never good.  I believe I suffer from SAD, (seasonal affective disorder).  I feel my best in the light of day, and tend to want to hibernate when it is dark and cold.  I do feel a little sad, and sometimes very sad! I am very excited for December 21 not because it is right before Christmas, but because the days will start getting longer.  Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas.  I love the lights, the music, the feelings of goodwill toward men, but Christmas comes during winter.  I am ashamed that even in the celebration of our Savior's birth, I whine about the darkness and cold.

This winter I have vowed to try to be more positive.  I have four kids serving LDS missions in the states.  Matthew and Rachel are in Ohio and Michigan and will, no doubt, be cold the next few months.  Mark does not think he will be in temperatures any colder than 50 degrees, and Bethany, well...she is in paradise.  The San Fernando Valley does not experience much in the way of winter.
I really do not want to equate happiness with summer even though I rejoice when spring starts to creep between the cold cracks of winter.  I know that I appreciate spring more because of the winter.  It is more miraculous, more beautiful and enjoyable because of the harshness of winter.

I like the scripture in the Book of Mormon where Lehi says "it must needs be that there was an opposition" talking about all things that are created.  We cannot fully appreciate the good without the bad.  Not that winter is all bad, but spring is so sweet because it follows winter.   When you live in Utah, you have the beauty of all the seasons, and each one is truly miraculous.  I happen to like some more than others, but I know my enjoyment would wane just a bit if I had spring all year long.

So...bring on the snow, the cold, the ice and scary driving conditions.  I will be grateful for a warm house that shields me from the cold, and a bed to lie down at night.  I know that many people in the world do not have this luxury.   When I see the devastation in the Phillippines and the people who have suffered at the hands of a typhoon, I am humbled and more than  disgusted with myself.  I have food , clothing and my family and friends are safe.   The coming of a different season seems a very trivial thing to be concerned about. I am so grateful for a Heavenly Father who loves his children and mourns with them.

I believe that much good can be found in every day, and that a little quiet contemplation about how to help other people will alleviate a lot of the seasonal depression I experience.  I  am hoping that we might all realize our blessings and rejoice in the arrival of another new year.

The morning Bethany leaves Utah for a year and a half to dwell in Sunny California.