Walking in Darkness

I don't feel like I belong here any more.  I am all alone in a very dark place.  I am no longer someone who matters.  Love is gone, no hope, nothing left but feeling shame to be so worthless.

Why do I even ask why?

People help me in my helplessness, but it makes me feel even more worthless and hopeless.  I have no escape.  No place of refuge...

Living Water

Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again:

But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.  (John 4:13-14)

These latter days are a time of great spiritual thirst. Many in the world are searching, often intensely, for a source of refreshment that will quench their yearning for meaning and direction in their lives. They crave a cool, satisfying drink of insight and knowledge that will soothe their parched souls. Their spirits cry out for life-sustaining experiences of peace and calm to nourish and enliven their withering hearts.

Indeed, “there are many yet on the earth among all sects, parties, and denominations, who are blinded by the subtle craftiness of men, whereby they lie in wait to deceive, and who are only kept from the truth because they know not where to find it.” 14 Let us work with all our heart, might, mind, and strength to show our thirsty brothers and sisters where they may find the living water of the gospel, that they may come to drink of the water that springs “up unto everlasting life.” ( Elder Wirthlin, Living Water to Quench Spiritual Thirst)

Another setback

Another episode of stroke affecting me last week.  This was probably what the drs characterize as a TIA, Transient Ischemic Attack.      By definition, a TIA is a temporary experience, leaving no permanent brain injury.

Last Thursday night, I had an episode that included dizziness, everything spinning around me, diminished sense of awareness, vision compromised with encroaching gray out, and more confusion than usual.

Someone helped wheel me up to my room, but she was behind me, so I wasn't sure who.  I thought it was my friend Lilian, but she said no, she saw me weaving around the lobby, and was concerned about my drunken careening, so she got the nurse.I asked to be left alone, because I was wanting to avoid another ER fiasco.  They can't seem to do anything much about events like this except compile extravagantly expensive billing for inconclusive tests.  I went to bed felling dizzy and groggy.

The next day, I was feeling recurring weakness in my lower body, and my speech was slurred more than the previous day.  Back to the routine of trying to recover...

Enduring Well

Life is carefully designed to produce for us, if we are willing, a harvest of relevant and portable experience...

Part of enduring well consists of being meek enough, amid our suffering, to learn from our relevant experiences. Rather than simply passing through these things, they must pass through us and do so in ways which sanctify these experiences for our good (see D&C 122:7). Thereby, our empathy, too, is enriched and everlasting.  Elder Maxwell, Enduring Well

In darkness I cry...

Alone and lonely,

runnels of hot tears

course across trails

long traveled.

No balm for ills,

impossible challenge

blocks every effort.

I live in the blackest well,

subterranean existence

devoid of a glimmer of light,

bleak and hopeless.

Ugly bigotry, self-recrimination

damns every thought -

bleak lives don’t matter.

I struggle to rise to the level

of support and charity

extended by so many.

But still inside myself,

I cannot break past walls

that await in front of every hopeful turn.

Contemplating the potential peace of non-existence,

I consider the horror of self destruction.

It would be so easy.

It would be so easy.

It would be so easy.

But my counselors remonstrate,

“Just a change of scenery”.

And those professing care and love,

injured beyond imagining,

wounded to the heart

by my selfish impulse,

unable to comprehend

the dark force that ever drives my thoughts.

Helpless and naked

I cry unto God for relief.

What answers mocks my pain.

I cried because I had no shoes

until I met a man who had no feet.

The mist of darkness will cover you at times so much that you will not be able to see your way even a short distance ahead. You will not be able to see clearly. But you can feel your way. With the gift of the Holy Ghost, you can feel your way ahead through life. Grasp the iron rod, and do not let go. Through the power of the Holy Ghost, you can feel your way through life. (See 3 Nephi 18:25; D&;C 9:8.) Elder Boyd K Packer: Lehi's dream and you



Suicide: Some Things We Know, Elder Russel M Ballard

Moved

Moved to a new location.  Senior Living center in Orem.  New Church ward, lots of nice people.

Treeo Orem

Extra charges for pets - I won't be getting a poodle.

A bit too expensive for my budget, but otherwise ideal for my needs at the moment.  Working on stroke rehab - again. Insurance refused to cover any further treatment, so I am on my own this time. Done this enough times, it is a familiar trail.

Looking for another place in Salt Lake County; my boys said move closer to them, so they can visit more often.

Could no longer justify living at my moms house.  Cannot help her any more, I'm more handicapped than she is.  Folks from her ward and community promise to help her, and she will be getting home health visits.

Suggestions for nice future apartments  welcome.

Another stroke

Another weekwe y in rehab hosptakl, recovering. Another week orslo. Changes coming in  my life....

Flowers Were Made for People

The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us. Thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. The trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird song, wind song, and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song, our very own, and sings our love.  (John Muir)

Abronia fragrans, Sweet Sand Verbena

Balsmamorhiza sagitata, Arrowleaf Balsamroot

Calochortus nuttali, Sego Lily

Delphinium occidentale, Tall Larkspur

Epilobium angustifolium, Fireweed

Fragaria vesta, Strawberry

Geranium viscossisimum, Sticky Geranium

Helianthella uniflora, One-flower Helianthella

Iliamna rivularis, Mountain Hollyhock

Juniperous osteosperma, Utah Juniper

Lupinus caespitosus., Utah Lupine

Mimulus guttatus, Yellow Monkeyflower

Nasturtium officionale, Watercress

Oenothera fruiticosa, Evening Primrose

Pedicularis groenlandica, Elephant's Head

Quercus gambelii, Gambel Oak

Rosa woodsii, Wood's Rose

Solidago missouriensis, Goldenrod

Tragopogon dubius, Salsify

Vaccinum scoparium, Low Huckleberry

Veratrum californicum, False Hellebore

Wyethia amplexicaulis, Mule's Ear

Xerophyllum tenax, Bear Grass

Yucca baccata, Spanish Bayonet

Zigadenous elegans, Death Camus

Whence?

When you see such an image, you must be thinking of some specific word, in your mind.

What is that word?  Have it fixed in your mind. Now, tell me, how is that word pronounced?

For me, the word is M.O.U.N.T.A.I.N.  But for a distressingly growing number of the local populace, it seems to be pronounced something more like "mou-un".  I've been trying to imagine where the traditional middle part of the word got lost.

How does this mysterious evolution of language take place?  Who started it?

I fully recognize that the actual spelling of the word, M.O.U.N.T.A.I.N., has never in my recollection been strictly related to how we actually pronounce it.  But I was always of the impression that the mangling we do is fairly unanimous, and we have some consensus, about how to say this and most other words.

It appears that my impression was mistaken.  Not only do words change meaning, right before our eyes, but they also sound different.  I feel somehow let down by all of this.  Like an article of faith that I cling to has been callously violated, with some impunity.

Pioneer Tribute

Faith in Every Footstep

In Utah we have parades and fireworks to celebrate the arrival of Mormon pioneers in the Salt Lake Valley.

Many of my ancestors were among those who trekked here from Winter Quarters in 1847 and after.   The Cobabe ancestor FFL Cobabe joined the Church in Copenhagen 12 Oct 1862, and immigrated to Utah in 1864.  He and his family arrived in Salt Lake City on 15 Sept 1864 with the William B. Preston Company and a group of LDS converts from Scandinavia.  More of his story here.

We have all been pioneers in our own life, finding our own way.  My sisters Mary and Kathy helped the handcarts roll into Temple Square, around 1970.

My sister Beth was born on Pioneer Day.  Her birthday celebration is rather lively.