Last week I threw out my back while making the bed. I fell on the floor in pain. This had never happened to me before. I have seen Mike deal with back problems on a regular basis. Did I realize it was this bad? As the week went on I felt better but then sat for a couple of hours on a low couch at book club. When it was over my back was cramped and by the time I got home I was having back spasms and barely made it to bed, downing pain pills and sleeping pills on my way. I can understand how people get addicted to these things. I had a desperate night. There was no place I could find relief. Pain is not new to me. I have spent many nights walking the floor with a Rheumatoid Arthritis flare up. Is it the dark aloneness that makes pain worse at night? My RA is migrating and usually eases in a day or two. I feel blessed because so many with my disease are so much worse. Thinking about my plight this week I came to realize that pain affords the opportunity to learn several things even mental pain:
1. Patience - Pain has its own agenda and course of action. You can do what you can to head it off with pills and such but in the end it will have its way in its own sweet time. You have choices: complain a lot or suffer in silence. Or maybe complain a little and suffer in silence a little. We like to muster up a little empathy by groaning here and there. But, mostly we are on our own. No one can really understand unless they have been there.
2. Empathy – I now understand Mike’s back pain more than I did before. I hope I can be better to support and console him in his afflictions. Isn’t that what the atonement is all about? Can we have our own atoning experience by showing empathy and doing what we can when others suffer.
3. Humility - Oh we humans think we are so powerful, smart and independent.
We think we can do it all on our own until pain and suffering hits us and our pride crumbles. We then understand our vulnerability and weakness. Why is this good? We become more open to God. We are more submissive. Hebrews 5:8 says: Though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered; Hopefully it can work for us too. Otherwise we are subject to the alternative:
"...when I...saw their lamentation and their mourning and their sorrow before the Lord, my heart did begin to rejoice within me, knowing the mercies and the long-suffering of the Lord, therefore supposing that he would be merciful unto them that they would again become a righteous people. But behold this my joy was vain, for their sorrowing was not unto repentance, because of the goodness of God; but it was rather the sorrowing of the damned, because the Lord would not always suffer them to take happiness in sin. And they did not come unto Jesus with broken hearts and contrite spirits, but they did curse God and wish to die. Mormon 2:12
4. Our Mortality – Our mortal existence is tentative. Our body is part of a fallen world; subject to all sorts of buffetings. We learn through pain that our body needs special care and wisdom in its treatment. We are less prone to risky behaviors after suffering pain due to our carelessness.
5. Spiritual Growth - Our spirit is honed as we plead for comfort and relief. We become reflective. Life has new meaning. The following is a quote from the writings of William R. Palmer on the Martin Handcart Company:
"It was in an adult Sunday School class of over fifty men and women. Nathan T. Porter was the teacher and the subject under discussion was the ill fated [Martin] handcart company that suffered so terribly in the snow of 1856.
Some sharp criticism of the Church and its leaders was being indulged in for permitting any company of converts to venture across the plains with no more supplies or protection than a handcart caravan afforded.
One old man in the corner sat silent and listened as long as he could stand it, then he arose and said things that no person who heard him will ever forget. His face was white with emotion, yet he spoke calmly, deliberately, but with great earnestness and sincerity.
He said in substance, "I ask you to stop this criticism. You are discussing a matter you know nothing about. Cold historic facts mean nothing here, for they give no proper interpretation of the questions involved. Mistake to send the Handcart Company out so late in the season? Yes! But I was in the company and my wife was in it, and Sister Nellie Unthank who you have cited here was there too. We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? Every one of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with Him in our extremities!
"God in our extremities?" Many of us have pled in the long dark days and nights of pain and felt Him.
6. A Need For Others – Some of us have a difficult time relying on others for help. Sometimes pain forces us to solicit help and we learn to be grateful when it comes. Perhaps this feeling of indebtedness inspires us to reach out when we are well.
I often think of my mother and how much she suffered at age 64 from her brain tumor and the vertebrae disintegration caused by the heavy doses of steroids she was on. If you don’t learn the positive lessons from pain you surely will become bitter and angry. She never did. She wanted to live. Life was precious to her even in her terrible pain. The day before she died she said she was getting better.
Garden Veggies
Made into tile for my stove backsplash
Portland Rose Garden
Mike and my 2 youngest sons Ian and Leif
Grandson Michael's Birthday 2014 throwing water balloons
With son Beau, Grandson Luke and his mom Jennifer
Maren
I cut this out of a wedding line. I must take more pictures of her.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
My Book Club Reading Schedule For 2008
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
The History of Love by Nicole Kraus
The Whistling Season by Ivan Doig
Hard Times by Charles Dickens
Cages of Stars by Jacquelyne Mitchard
The Painted Veil by Somerset Maugham
Peace Like a River by Leif Enger
Benjamin Franklin by Edmund Morgan
A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini
Hallelujah by J. Scott Featherstone
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
THE BEST HOT FUDGE SAUCE
This recipe has been a staple at our house for a long time. It is a quick and easy and tastes wonderful. My original recipe had 1/2 Cup butter but I lowered it to 1/4 cup and I think it is even better...at least no one complained.
Hot Fudge Sauce
1/2 Cube of butter (1/4 C)
2 C. semi sweet chocolate chips
1 Can evaporated milk
2 C. powdered sugar
Stir together and bring to a boil.
Simmer until as thick as you like
Add 1 tsp. vanilla.
ENJOY!
Hot Fudge Sauce
1/2 Cube of butter (1/4 C)
2 C. semi sweet chocolate chips
1 Can evaporated milk
2 C. powdered sugar
Stir together and bring to a boil.
Simmer until as thick as you like
Add 1 tsp. vanilla.
ENJOY!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
THE BOBBYPIN - A STORY FROM A CHILDS POINT OF VIEW
I am starting a class in "Writing Family Stories" soon where I mostly motivate people to do it. One of the things we do in the class is write a story from a child's point of view in present tense. The "Bobbypin" happened to me when I was about 3 years old. My mother told me the details often enough that I was able to create the setting and details. I actually remember seeing the X-ray in the Drs. office. For me and hopefully for my family it is life-affirming because without the mishap in the car I would most likely have died.
THE BOBBYPIN
Written from child’s point of view
By Charmaine Anderson – September 2003
My mama is making me take a nap. I am three years old and I don’t need naps anymore but Mama doesn’t believe me. But I do get to sleep in her big bed and I like that. She makes her bed every day and it is smooth like snow when it falls in our yard. The blanket on the top has white fuzzy bumps on it. She hides the pillows under the top of the blanket and they look like two fat marshmallows. I don’t like to mess it up but I know Mama will make it look nice again when I get up.
I can’t sleep. My fingers are touching the fuzzy balls on the blanket. I pet them like I do the poodle dog that lives next door. I like the way they feel in my fingers. I am wiggling everywhere. I wish it wasn’t this hard to go to sleep. I need a book to look at—maybe that would help me. There is a bobby pin under the pillow. I will play with it for awhile. I like bobby pins. Mama puts them in her hair when she looks pretty. I mostly wear my hair in braids my Mama calls pigtails but if there is a hair hanging out and Mama can’t get it back in she will put a bobby pin in my hair too.
I like to chew on bobby pins because they have soft ends that feel good on my teeth. I am going to put it all in my mouth and see how it feels—OOPS! It went down my throat. I better tell Mama.
"Mama, come here, I need to tell you something."
"I am not coming. You go to sleep."
"I can’t Mama. I swallowed something. It is a bobby pin I found in the bed"
"You are just trying to get out of a nap. Now be quiet and go to sleep."
So, I am rubbing the blanket trying to go to sleep. I wonder what will happen to the bobby pin inside me? I’m getting tired.
Every day Mama is looking in the potty for the bobby pin after I go. I guess things go in the mouth and come out the bum. She hasn’t found it yet. She still doesn’t believe I swallowed it.
Today we are going to town in the car. I like to sit close to the door and look out the window. There are so many nice things to see. Once I saw a deer in the trees and another time some rabbits hopping along.
We are starting down the street. I am close to the door stretching to see out. As I lean against the door it opens and I feel myself falling on the road. I am very scared when I hit the ground and the tire of the car cuts my head. I am crying. I can hear my Mama screaming as she stops the car and jumps out. I know she is coming for me. When she picks me up I can feel the red blood running down my face and into my eyes. I can’t see but I can feel my Mama’s arms and they are shaking. She takes me to the car and picks up a diaper to put on my head. I am laying down in the back seat as the car is moving along. I am trying not to cry loud. Mostly I am scared.
Mama is crying so I know she is worried. I want to be a brave girl like she tells me to be when I fall down and hurt myself. She says we are going to the doctor and he will make me better. She carries me into a small white room and lays me on a cold hard table. The doctor is in a white coat and he looks nice. He washes my face with a cloth and it stings. I am not crying now even though my head is hurting. I can see tears in Mama’s eyes. The doctor is talking. "You are lucky, the skin above her eyebrow is cut but not bad. We can sew it together with 2 or 3 stitches. She will be fine." Mama smiles and reaches down and kisses me. She says that she was very worried about my eyes. With all the blood running in my face she couldn’t tell what was hurt. She squeezes my hand and I feel much better. The doctor sticks me with a sharp thing and it hurts. I cry again.
Now Mama is talking to the doctor. I stop crying to listen. "Two weeks ago when I put Charmaine down for a nap she told me she swallowed a bobby pin. I have been looking for it in the potty but have never found it. What do you think?"
The doctor says, "Let’s take a picture of her to see what is going on. We need to make sure nothing is broken from the fall, anyway."
Mama carries me into a dark room and lays me on a different hard table. A big machine comes close to me and a light blinks. I guess they are taking a picture of my insides. We finish and Mama lifts me in her arms and we go back to the doctor’s white room. There is a light behind a window and the doctor puts the picture on it and I can see a bobby pin. It is stuck inside me. The doctor says it must come out and he will have to operate to get it. He says that green things will get in there if they don’t and I could die.
We are on our way home in the car. There will be no shopping for us today. I am not sitting close to the door like I usually do. I sit close to Mama and she has her arm around me. I ask her what "operate" means and she says the doctor has to cut me open and take out the bobby pin because it is stuck and won’t come out. She says I will be asleep and nothing will hurt. I believe her. She turns toward me, "You know, I am glad you fell out of the car today. It saved your life. God must know I need my little girl." I’m not sure what she means, but I know she loves me.
I am taking a nap in the big bed with the marshmallow pillows. I don’t think it will be hard to sleep today and if I see a bobby pin I will throw it out.
THE BOBBYPIN
Written from child’s point of view
By Charmaine Anderson – September 2003
My mama is making me take a nap. I am three years old and I don’t need naps anymore but Mama doesn’t believe me. But I do get to sleep in her big bed and I like that. She makes her bed every day and it is smooth like snow when it falls in our yard. The blanket on the top has white fuzzy bumps on it. She hides the pillows under the top of the blanket and they look like two fat marshmallows. I don’t like to mess it up but I know Mama will make it look nice again when I get up.
I can’t sleep. My fingers are touching the fuzzy balls on the blanket. I pet them like I do the poodle dog that lives next door. I like the way they feel in my fingers. I am wiggling everywhere. I wish it wasn’t this hard to go to sleep. I need a book to look at—maybe that would help me. There is a bobby pin under the pillow. I will play with it for awhile. I like bobby pins. Mama puts them in her hair when she looks pretty. I mostly wear my hair in braids my Mama calls pigtails but if there is a hair hanging out and Mama can’t get it back in she will put a bobby pin in my hair too.
I like to chew on bobby pins because they have soft ends that feel good on my teeth. I am going to put it all in my mouth and see how it feels—OOPS! It went down my throat. I better tell Mama.
"Mama, come here, I need to tell you something."
"I am not coming. You go to sleep."
"I can’t Mama. I swallowed something. It is a bobby pin I found in the bed"
"You are just trying to get out of a nap. Now be quiet and go to sleep."
So, I am rubbing the blanket trying to go to sleep. I wonder what will happen to the bobby pin inside me? I’m getting tired.
Every day Mama is looking in the potty for the bobby pin after I go. I guess things go in the mouth and come out the bum. She hasn’t found it yet. She still doesn’t believe I swallowed it.
Today we are going to town in the car. I like to sit close to the door and look out the window. There are so many nice things to see. Once I saw a deer in the trees and another time some rabbits hopping along.
We are starting down the street. I am close to the door stretching to see out. As I lean against the door it opens and I feel myself falling on the road. I am very scared when I hit the ground and the tire of the car cuts my head. I am crying. I can hear my Mama screaming as she stops the car and jumps out. I know she is coming for me. When she picks me up I can feel the red blood running down my face and into my eyes. I can’t see but I can feel my Mama’s arms and they are shaking. She takes me to the car and picks up a diaper to put on my head. I am laying down in the back seat as the car is moving along. I am trying not to cry loud. Mostly I am scared.
Mama is crying so I know she is worried. I want to be a brave girl like she tells me to be when I fall down and hurt myself. She says we are going to the doctor and he will make me better. She carries me into a small white room and lays me on a cold hard table. The doctor is in a white coat and he looks nice. He washes my face with a cloth and it stings. I am not crying now even though my head is hurting. I can see tears in Mama’s eyes. The doctor is talking. "You are lucky, the skin above her eyebrow is cut but not bad. We can sew it together with 2 or 3 stitches. She will be fine." Mama smiles and reaches down and kisses me. She says that she was very worried about my eyes. With all the blood running in my face she couldn’t tell what was hurt. She squeezes my hand and I feel much better. The doctor sticks me with a sharp thing and it hurts. I cry again.
Now Mama is talking to the doctor. I stop crying to listen. "Two weeks ago when I put Charmaine down for a nap she told me she swallowed a bobby pin. I have been looking for it in the potty but have never found it. What do you think?"
The doctor says, "Let’s take a picture of her to see what is going on. We need to make sure nothing is broken from the fall, anyway."
Mama carries me into a dark room and lays me on a different hard table. A big machine comes close to me and a light blinks. I guess they are taking a picture of my insides. We finish and Mama lifts me in her arms and we go back to the doctor’s white room. There is a light behind a window and the doctor puts the picture on it and I can see a bobby pin. It is stuck inside me. The doctor says it must come out and he will have to operate to get it. He says that green things will get in there if they don’t and I could die.
We are on our way home in the car. There will be no shopping for us today. I am not sitting close to the door like I usually do. I sit close to Mama and she has her arm around me. I ask her what "operate" means and she says the doctor has to cut me open and take out the bobby pin because it is stuck and won’t come out. She says I will be asleep and nothing will hurt. I believe her. She turns toward me, "You know, I am glad you fell out of the car today. It saved your life. God must know I need my little girl." I’m not sure what she means, but I know she loves me.
I am taking a nap in the big bed with the marshmallow pillows. I don’t think it will be hard to sleep today and if I see a bobby pin I will throw it out.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
The Princess Dilemma
The Princess Dilemma
or Am I A Scullery Maid?
My 32 year old daughter Maren told me last week she is seeking princess status now because she didn’t get to be one as a child. Of course, I took this personally. My reaction: I failed as a mother because she never felt cherished as a little princess should. I am trying to keep my objectivity as I have moodled about this dilemma. "So", I asked her, "What is your definition of a princess and what are you doing now to create this image of yourself?"
This is the gist of her answer: A princess gets her nails done; she has pedicures, facials, and massages; she shops at Nordstroms; she seeks all opportunities to be pampered. OK, that is not me. If I had 10 million dollars I doubt I would shop at Nordstroms. She is right; it has never been in my personality to seek this kind of pampering and so it would not have been easy for me to create that kind of atmosphere in rearing my princess. First of all I am cheap and I am a simple person with simple needs. I doubt if I have ever paid full price for a piece of clothing. I don’t do my nails because they get in the way of my projects. Even nail polish makes me feel like I have weights on my fingers. I am a scullery maid.
Maren recalls her girlfriends being taken by their mothers on Nordstrom shopping adventures. They would go to lunch somewhere and have a facial at the make-up counter and try on and buy expensive things. Did I fail because this wasn’t me? I taught her that she can make, cook or fix anything her heart desires. I have seen Maren scrape old paint, lay tile, dig in dirt to plant flowers, hang light fixtures and tear out a wall with a chain saw. I tried to convince her that you can find good things cheap. I sewed a lot of her clothes as she grew. Was that degrading? Did I teach her to be a scullery maid?
I have come to believe in my assessment of this matter that we all have different ways we seek our inner princess. My full-grown princess is 5’10" with size 11 doublewide feet. The glass slipper was out of the question. I have never worn a pair of high-heeled shoes. I ended up sewing most of my clothes because nothing off the rack fit very well. This has changed as I have grown older and more tall women have come on the scene. I no longer sew clothes or much of anything. If Ross doesn’t have it I don’t need it. Still, I have been known to find a few things on the discount table at Wal-mart. There is no doubt: I am a scullery maid.
So, what does my inner princess want? My grandfather always raved about my hair. He called a woman’s hair her "crowning glory". He convinced me. My only claim to beauty fame was that as a kid I won freckle contests. As I started to wear make-up in my teens my facial freckles began to fade out some. My eyes and face are pale so I have always felt more normal with mascara, blush and lipstick. About 10 years ago I had my eyeliner tattooed on. I start every day with my princess beauty routine: exercise, shower, do my hair and make up and get dressed in something clean and presentable…usually jeans and a shirt. I guess you could say that my inner princess pampers herself. The best pampering I get is a back rub from my prince and this is free (most of the time). My princess also likes her castle to be clean and organized. I am not always good at this because I am also a project person and often the projects take precedent and things get out of whack but never for too long. I am definitely not a clean freak but for sure I am a scullery maid.
Being a scullery maid does get tiring. My daughter works very hard at her job serving others in retail. It is surely a relief to try to find some relaxation and pampering at the end of the day. I hope she finds peace and satisfaction as she seeks to be a princess because I know she has the fortitude and creativity to be and do anything in consequence of her scullery maid training. Pampering feels good but being able to do something yourself feels smart. This is a given: It is much easier it be a princess after you have been a scullery maid than it is to learn to be a scullery maid when you were reared a princess.
or Am I A Scullery Maid?
My 32 year old daughter Maren told me last week she is seeking princess status now because she didn’t get to be one as a child. Of course, I took this personally. My reaction: I failed as a mother because she never felt cherished as a little princess should. I am trying to keep my objectivity as I have moodled about this dilemma. "So", I asked her, "What is your definition of a princess and what are you doing now to create this image of yourself?"
This is the gist of her answer: A princess gets her nails done; she has pedicures, facials, and massages; she shops at Nordstroms; she seeks all opportunities to be pampered. OK, that is not me. If I had 10 million dollars I doubt I would shop at Nordstroms. She is right; it has never been in my personality to seek this kind of pampering and so it would not have been easy for me to create that kind of atmosphere in rearing my princess. First of all I am cheap and I am a simple person with simple needs. I doubt if I have ever paid full price for a piece of clothing. I don’t do my nails because they get in the way of my projects. Even nail polish makes me feel like I have weights on my fingers. I am a scullery maid.
Maren recalls her girlfriends being taken by their mothers on Nordstrom shopping adventures. They would go to lunch somewhere and have a facial at the make-up counter and try on and buy expensive things. Did I fail because this wasn’t me? I taught her that she can make, cook or fix anything her heart desires. I have seen Maren scrape old paint, lay tile, dig in dirt to plant flowers, hang light fixtures and tear out a wall with a chain saw. I tried to convince her that you can find good things cheap. I sewed a lot of her clothes as she grew. Was that degrading? Did I teach her to be a scullery maid?
I have come to believe in my assessment of this matter that we all have different ways we seek our inner princess. My full-grown princess is 5’10" with size 11 doublewide feet. The glass slipper was out of the question. I have never worn a pair of high-heeled shoes. I ended up sewing most of my clothes because nothing off the rack fit very well. This has changed as I have grown older and more tall women have come on the scene. I no longer sew clothes or much of anything. If Ross doesn’t have it I don’t need it. Still, I have been known to find a few things on the discount table at Wal-mart. There is no doubt: I am a scullery maid.
So, what does my inner princess want? My grandfather always raved about my hair. He called a woman’s hair her "crowning glory". He convinced me. My only claim to beauty fame was that as a kid I won freckle contests. As I started to wear make-up in my teens my facial freckles began to fade out some. My eyes and face are pale so I have always felt more normal with mascara, blush and lipstick. About 10 years ago I had my eyeliner tattooed on. I start every day with my princess beauty routine: exercise, shower, do my hair and make up and get dressed in something clean and presentable…usually jeans and a shirt. I guess you could say that my inner princess pampers herself. The best pampering I get is a back rub from my prince and this is free (most of the time). My princess also likes her castle to be clean and organized. I am not always good at this because I am also a project person and often the projects take precedent and things get out of whack but never for too long. I am definitely not a clean freak but for sure I am a scullery maid.
Being a scullery maid does get tiring. My daughter works very hard at her job serving others in retail. It is surely a relief to try to find some relaxation and pampering at the end of the day. I hope she finds peace and satisfaction as she seeks to be a princess because I know she has the fortitude and creativity to be and do anything in consequence of her scullery maid training. Pampering feels good but being able to do something yourself feels smart. This is a given: It is much easier it be a princess after you have been a scullery maid than it is to learn to be a scullery maid when you were reared a princess.
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