Wings

It has always bothered me that the 2nd verse of "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" announces Jesus has ris'n with healing in his wings because Jesus doesn't have wings, especially big, feathery Renaissance painting ones.

Then I read Malachi 4:2, shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings. *furrowed brows* Seriously, Bible, Jesus doesn't have wings.

As I was driving to my massage Thursday morning Mary's five French hens had escaped through her gate and were pecking in the front yard. It hit me. CHICKEN WINGS! Of course! I was missing it all along.

Matthew 23:37, How often would I have gathered (thee) even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings.

What does Easter mean to me? It means healing. Because of the infinite Atonement there are infinite fixes under those wings. He can heal anything, fresh wounds or deep scars. He will heal anyone, saint or sinner. Mother hens love all their chicks.

He has risen! He has risen! And thanks to Gethsemane there is healing in those post-risen wings. You just have to crawl under them.

Sculpture by Angela Johnson (2010) located in the Thanksgiving Point Gardens.

Eclipse

In about five hours Norwegians living on the Faroe Islands (Sting sang about them) or the Svalbard Archipelago (Sting didn't sing about those) will get to witness a total solar eclipse. Americans can substitute viewing the celestial phenomenon with overzealous playing of "Total Eclipse of the Heart." All is not lost, tomorrow is still a Supermoon and the Vernal Equinox. Atmospheric trifecta!

I remember the solar eclipse of May 10, 1994. I was a soon-to-be graduating senior wearing overalls, Keds, and special glasses for staring at the sun. I took this picture of the crescent-shaped shadows the eclipse made with my Olympus point-and-shoot film camera complete with date stamp. I have never forgotten how the solar eclipse made happy, smiling shadows. I tore my house apart to find this old photo. It was in the "not important enough to do anything with but not unimportant enough to throw away" pile of papers in an accordion file in the linen closet. Where else would it have been?

A total solar eclipse is when the moon comes between the earth and the sun and completely covers the sun's disc. It is a black hole surrounded by a ring of fire. (Johnny Cash) The only time our naked human eyes can safely observe the sun without damaging our retinas is during a total solar eclipse. Is it odd we can only behold the universe-controlling, nuclear-fusioning bomb of glory when a Superdarkness gets in the way?

I have loved ones going through hard times; eclipses of a sort. My own life's eclipse is still at arm's length and I can recall its disparity with Memory's flash. The thing of it is...it was the closest I ever felt to God the Father and His Son. Eclipses make happy shadows, remember? I absolutely know this to be true: sometimes it takes joy-eclipsing dark spells for us to be capable of witnessing the light and love of God. The protective, stunning window is brief so take a mental picture and keep it someplace safe.

Heard on the radio; also something I believe:

What seems difficult just takes time.

What seems impossible takes a little more time.

Clutch

This is a peek at the poster I bought myself for Christmas. I had been looking for quality juggler art since October and found this 1966 Bjorn Wiinblad print on eBay. Not my typical style but I fell in love with it for symbolic reasons, had to have it for my bedroom wall in the new house (the house we haven't started building), got it approved by my bedroom co-dweller, and can't wait to start my days right by waking up to this graphic reminder of priorities. The juggler is part of a series; the moustached man also balances bowling pins and rings but I loved the two-tone metallic balls. So Frog Prince-y.

Upside down + throbbing head + crick in the neck + simultaneous charley horses + back spasms = the price of making a deluge of balls defy gravity. I feel like this all the time. I overjuggle.

Van Gogh said, "Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well." I have a hard time believing Van Gogh actually said this. He seemed too tortured to have come up with this but if he said it so be it. Love many things, accomplish much.

LOVE MANY THINGS? Check. Accomplish much? (sound of crickets)

But I love so many things and squirrel! ooooh, I just found one more thing to love! Toss that curious new ball over here. I will figure out how to handle it because it is too fascinating and enjoyable to leave behind.

Love many things means balls galore! It means people surrounded by a blur of motion are happiest. It means more is more and less is a bore, right? Perform! Toss! Accomplish! Am I a toy poodle circus monkey creating a spectacle of balance? Did I do this to myself?

I love overjuggling but the truth is I also fantasize about living as Jane Eyre. Sew and nap in a corset all day as an unempowered, make-up free female with those weird braids that wrap around my ears? Sign me up! Eat cold ham and boiled potatoes and stare out of Mr. Rochester’s windows until something life-altering, like a carriage arriving or a fowl getting shot, happens? Yes, please. It is tempting to have a day as open as the moors and heather.

My life is frenetic but I'm not exactly sure I made it so. Yes, I threw in some fun balls for good measure but most of the balls came free with real life. There is so much to love, so much to want, and so much worth grasping alongside the normal stuff I must take care of. It is a good problem with hard logistics. Hence why I fell in love with the Danish juggler.

For all he tosses only one ball is safely secured in his right hand. There is one ball he’s not willing to fumble. And THAT ball is embodied in two of my favorite quotes, both by President Ezra Taft Benson:

"When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives. Our love of the Lord will govern the claims for our affection, the demands on our time, the interests we pursue, and the order of our priorities.”

"Men and women who turn their lives over to God will discover that He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He can deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, and pour out peace."

Putting God first to find fulfillment and true happiness is a paradox I am learning to trust. Putting Him first often translates to serving my fellow men first*. I want to do so many things and Tunisian crochet, tackling that stack of good reading, sewing Archer the quiet book I pinned two years ago, and a hundred unfinished blog posts are the mere tip of the iceberg. The Lord knows this. He also knows I know better than to spend all of my time on myself.

So I clutch the golden ball, try to turn my life over to Him, and trust He will make the most of my minutes, mind, and muscles. He will also nudge me and hint what I can drop for a season or two. When I do my part I can count on the Lord to magnify whatever I have left...and the leftovers have been good enough to appease my personal wish list.

Holding one ball is the only way I can balance the others, the only way I can love many things.

"Fratelli Spassosi" by Bjorn Wiinblad, son of Otto and Ebba, Copenhagen, Denmark. b. 1918 d. 2006. A gifted ceramicist, his most famous work was the limited production of gold leaf dinner service for the Shah of Persia in 1971. Persia was celebrating its 2500th anniversary. Old country! He also designed the postage stamps for Denmark in 1985 and was the exclusive Poster Artist for the US Embassy in Paris for a year.

*Matthew 25:40

Hardy

Confession: I have resented early bloomers most of my life simply because I was a late one.

Walking the halls of high school I was a dormant seed ricocheting unnoticed off of thick stalks, glossy leaves, and proudly opened fragrant blossoms. I choked on airborne pollen day in and day out and bitterly bore the bleakness of my bantam beginning. (That was for you, Bonnie.) At home I seethed at my sleepy seed GROW! DO SOMETHING! AND DO IT BEFORE PROM! but never succeeded in forcing it open.

My germination was lengthy but when I sprouted I dazzled. Sadly, the lights of the high school stage had long been turned off and the auditorium of people to impress was empty. I peaked in winter when everyone else was hibernating.

Yes, what could be worse than blooming late?

Dying early.

This winter (if you can call it that) has been strange. More snow has fallen in Texas than it has in my yard. February 1st my daffodil shoots had muscled eight inches above the mulch, which means the groundhog could have eaten them for a stringy appetizer when he periscoped out of his toasty bungalow the next day. Our family has suffered from allergies for the last month and the birds have been chirping Eas-ter since Christmas. Mother Nature has tricked everything with a seed or a heartbeat that now is the time to grow and once again I am surrounded by early bloomers.

It snowed this morning and within five minutes my world was a whiteout. I, Late Bloomer, am used to this weather. Crocus and pansy are made for dual seasons but I'm worried about tulip, iris, baby duck, and short green anything who fell for the mirage of spring. Poor things, collectively offsides with quick growth, all to pay the penalty of a late freeze.

Late bloomers may feel lonely blushing when everyone else is fading but early bloomers are at risk just to survive. Every creeping thing has obstacles to overcome and none of us control the calendar.

*Illustration by Mary Engelbreit (the Norman Rockwell of St. Louis)

Boulder

I ripped this picture out of the Ensign last January and added the ENDURE IT WELL post-it note. It hung on the back of our front door for six months. The back of the front door is the A-1 prime real estate spot in our house. You can't go anywhere without passing it. I glanced at it no less than thirty kajillion times the last five months of my pregnancy. I let it sit undisturbed under a magnet for half a year because I wanted to remember two things:

1. I asked to be pregnant.

2. I got what I wanted.

Too bad if it was hard; I needed to endure it well.

My parents came out for a few weeks in July to help with the baby. After they drove back to Missouri I noticed my dad had written (USE YOUR KNEES) under ENDURE IT WELL. My clever dad with his horrid knees. I have the same genetically horrid knees.

I recently had my body Biolevered (a machine that measures the distance between your joints and points and mathematically reveals the safest way for you to work out) and guess what? I have a 7" squat depth. That is such a small squat. All these years of diligently wearing spandex and white headphones twice a week in the weight room for what? For oversquatting and therefore punishing my poor knees instead of making them stronger. I was diligently breaking myself. If only I had used the right technique my knees might be safely cushioned with ropes of muscle this very day. Sigh. Live and learn.

There is no way around it; life can be hard. We balance boulders on our bruised backs and carry crippling concerns. Yet we voted for this mortal experience and shouted for joy when we got it. So how do we ENDURE IT WELL?

I think there are two safe techniques that will not break us (and both of them are completely free):

1. DELEGATE or DELETE DEAD WEIGHT

"Thou wilt surely wear away, both thou, and this people that is with thee: for this thing is too heavy for thee; thou art not able to perform it thyself alone." -Exodus 18:18

This Bible verse is taken from the counsel Jethro gave his super busy and physically weary son-in-law Moses. It would seem Moses never left the office because there was an eternal line of needy people who could ONLY speak to him. Even Moses couldn't do everything and was warned the pattern he was in would lead to ruin for both himself and those depending on him. Jethro advised him to delegate, to teach the law to others and appoint them as judges. More judges = shorter lines for Moses = more time for family. I'm inferring a little but the Bible is clear Moses delegated to prevent self-destruction.

When I feel I'm being crushed I have to step back and honestly assess the stress. First off, are the things I'm worried about even important or am I arranging chairs on the deck of the Titanic?* Am I feeling overwhelmed because I am doing things other people can/should be doing? If so, train the other people or let it not be done. Are my expectations reasonable? Homemade baby food: YES. Giving up sugar and gaining a six-pack while maintaining current scrapbooks and sending organized digital desktops to the protection of a cloud: NO. Since Archer was born I've struggled with this. I have had to really shrink my to-do lists. A list that reads

• FEED BABY x6
• PICK UP DAUGHTER FROM SCHOOL
• MAKE DINNER
• BE STABLE FOR GREG

just doesn't have the panache my old lists used to have. I'm running to stand still and simply can't carry the weight I used to. Bye-bye bragging rights, hello reality. I have to be okay with today and today I can only do the essentials.

2. USE YOUR KNEES

My dad was right. Get down on whatever type of knees you have and pray to the Lord for help. (If you have one of those teardrop-shaped quads on the inside of your knee know that I'm crazy jealous.) Pray morning and night and the spaces between. The scriptures are chock full of promised blessings if prayer is tied to obedience; we can receive enough nourishment and strength to do what is asked of us, we can come off conqueror and escape the grip of Satan, we can be endowed with power and enlightenment to the point our souls are full of joy, and we can have our burdens lightened if not removed. Perfect help is words away.

*Paraphase from Elder Neal A. Maxwell. Image from THINKSTOCK. Good scriptures: 1 Nephi 17:3, D&C 10:5, D&C 11:13-14, Mosiah 24:14