Blog
Emotional Resilience
This presentation was given in Ogden, Utah in February of 2022. Resources are included here for those who want to download the workbook, or review the material. Enjoy! Workbook- Emotional ResilienceDownload St. George Volcano There is charcoal-colored volcanic rock scattered across St. George. At the very top of Snow Canyon is the remnant of an ancient, and now dead Santa Clara Volcano.Several years ago we gathered our four kids, who at the time were ranging in age from 15 to 4, and made our way around on the ice cream swirl trail. The hike started with a small incline as we twirled around the backside. About halfway up the trail, the path took a sharp turn straight up the mountain. The view from on top of the mountain was breathtaking! While the entire trail was only 3/4 mile one way, we stood onto 4,800 feet gazing southward towards the breathtaking fiery red cliffs of Snow Canyon. After a short adventure on top, it was time to make our way back down the mountain. Looking down at the steps we had climbed was overwhelming to our four-year-old, Ben. He gazed at the gravel path that he needed to climb down and immediately shrunk. “Daddy, I can’t do it,” he cried out. “Ben, I’m right here with you,” Dad said. “I promise I will keep you safe.” “No, I’m scared,” Ben declared, as he bent his knees in an attempt to plop on the pumice. “Hold my hand; we will go down the trail together. Trust me.” Jonny held out his right hand and grabbed ahold of my little one, who was in no position mentally to proceed. Fear washed over his face, and his body imploded as small as his dad would allow. In one quick swoop, Jonny scooped Ben off the ground, and carefully caressed the small boy in his strong arms. While I waited for the big kids to finish their exploration. After they landed, they found a place to sit and enjoy some goldfish crackers and a juice box. For those who know our family, the fact that my husband could go on a hike like this is amazing. In June of 2017, Jonny was diagnosed with a benign brain tumor called an Acoustic Neuroma, about the size of a walnut. On August 1st two surgeons successfully removed the tumor with near textbook-perfect outcome, or so we thought. His facial nerve is entirely intact! He kept half of his hearing in his right side and now wears a hearing aid. His spinal fluid never leaked! He did lose his balance on his right side, which has been an interesting adventure to recalibrate. We were so relieved. We soon realized that the unbearable headaches that were expected to last a few days turned into weeks and then into months, and now years. With the help of many healers, including acupuncturists, massage therapists, and pain clinic doctors we are working to find relief from debilitating, chronic headaches caused by nerve damage from his surgery. In a moment, when life on the surface looks ordinary, mundane and regular, a volcano erupts, and everything is changed, broken, burning up and wrought with fear. Now, I know that if I asked people to raise their hands who have had a brain tumor...
read moreHistory in the Making
History in the MakingSeptember 14, 2020 My kids are all at school full time. After 18 years of mothering, it’s the first in a new season of independence for all of us. It’s Monday morning and I have spent some time this morning gathering: gathering my thoughts, gathering my task list, gathering my breakfast, gathering my peace. I am grateful for this time to reflect and prepare for the week. I vacillate in wanting to write publicly. It fulfills a deep purpose in my heart to share my faith and testimony of Jesus Christ. It also serves to witness of the living history. I also feel fear at the vulnerability. Last week (and continuing this week) California and Oregon are on fire. Millions of people have been evacuated and the latest count I believe 500 million acres have burnt. Idaho was under a blanket of snow and Utah had Hurricane-force winds rip through SLC and northern Utah. Over 1,000 trees were ripped up out for the ground. Schools were canceled, included the University of Utah, SLCC and Salt Lake City school district had to push its open date back an additional week, not starting until today. My sister in law’s house was out of power for 5 days. Friends in Willard just received their power this morning after six days. My 17-year-old has been quarantined for two weeks for possible exposure to COVID at school. She is on day 13 out of 14 and can go back to school on Wednesday. We are grateful for every day that they can attend school in person. (Right now there are five confirmed cases at their highschool. If that number rises to 15 they have to close the school. A neighboring high school has 25 cases and went to half capacity at school). The school is giving all students free lunch and breakfast through December from a special government grant. Between the change in barometric pressure because of the storms and the ash in the air from the Mountain West’s blaze have wreaked havoc on my poor husband’s brain injury. He is a new state of remembering acute chronic pain. (Translated, really bad, all the time headache mixed with bouts of migraines.) Right now we are living through an unprecedented time of vilification. Right and left, are at each other’s throats, and now community members are taking to the stage of social media to point fingers, name-calling, and ostracize people who think differently. The presidential election is 6 weeks away, and with either outcome, I fear for our nation’s security. The Black Lives Matter movement continues to gain traction, and there are more players behind the scenes that are calling to defund the police. Riots and anarchists continue to loot, pillage, and scatter democratic run cities. COVID 19 cases are coming down nationally. With preventative measures to stop the spread of the disease through wearing masks, we have a whole new crop of conspiracies of control and manipulation on our citizens. Any topic of controversy can be proven and disproven simultaneously and rigorously by scrolling social media. It is all in God’s hands. From the tiniest puppy bite on my right thumb to the most powerful position in the entire world up for election, all of it is seen and witnessed by...
read moreFavorite Kind of Labouring Day
As a little girl I loved planting. It was always a favorite day to release the pony packs of flowers and veggies and bury the roots into the freshly turned soil. We had a long, skinny lot that was surrounded by large trees. So there was lots of shade to hope around. One year a pumpkin vine grew up into the fence, around a tree trunk and over a branch in our neighbor’s yard. a small pumpkin grew perfectly round as it hung from a branch like an apple. Weeding, on the other hand, was a chore to be avoided, dreaded, and abhorred. ArtichokePeach GoliathKuma helping me in the gardenSeptember Haul I am grateful to my mom for sharing her love of the soil, and for flowers. There is nothing glamorous about the seven laundry baskets of weeds I pulled this weekend, but this fruit. This is what my heart sings about. The garden teaches us to take care of our roots (self-care, good nutrition), to prune our vines (boundaries), the weed out the unwanted (manage our thoughts, choose who we spend time with), plant the seeds of our desired outcomes (vision and planning), the wait patiently on the right season for fruit (law of the harvest), to enjoy the diversity of God’s creations (we are all different and unique In our own unique way), to increase our capacity to receive (law of abundance), learn how to enjoy, preserve, and store (yum!), how to collect seeds for the next crop, (compound interest), composting what’s left (for me this is a big one! To realize that the experiences of life can be used to fuel a new gift of abundance for later seasons.) and sadly, that winter weather coming tomorrow may be the end to this beautiful season in our Utah gardens. (95 degrees to 30 degrees in 48 hours is kinda like a metaphor for 2020, eh?) Happy gardening friends! It’s my favorite kind of Laboring day. I take praying mantis encounters as a good omen. They are warriors of the garden and strike with deadly force to their insect prey. Yesterday was especially happy with three sightings, two albinos, and a single green soldier. We planted artichokes for the first time this year and I am delighted at how they are coming up! Sunflower volunteers remind me of my dear friend Steve Bradshaw; who is now a life graduate and ultimate survivor mentor. My baby mint bloomed baby flowers (ten times smaller than a pencil tip.) and it tickles me to no end to see my children learn the law of the harvest, check on their crops and find as much joy in the land as I do. I share photos of my garden, never to boast, but to offer a bit of sunshine. I feel so much joy and peace in my yard. I am absolutely blown away at how much the earth responds to such a simple effort. When everything in the community feels like it’s spinning out of control, the earth offers a simple reminder of order, safety, seasons, rewards, and...
read moreFlames
We sat under a blanket of stars at Bear Lake. When the lights are all out you can see the mist of the Milky-way and billions of stars. When the bonfire started, the crowd was as raucous as the flames, there was laughter, songs and s’mores. As the volume of the crowd faded, so too did the fire. One by one parents lead their sleepy kids off to bed. Eventually the fire turned into a fallen pile of fuel. When the logs were separated the fire waned. When the logs were together the flames grew. When all was said and done, there were just four of us gazing at the heat beat of the coals, and the purple hues of fire licking the wood. I’ve been thinking a lot about the turbulence and uncertainty of our days. The United States is in a battle of ideologies, of fear, of trying to survive not just the season, but the day. I believe our differences are what can make us stronger, but not when we are separated, not when the only way to share different opinions is through division, anger and name calling. The United states will survive, but only if we as the people can unite, can gather, and can support each other. We all have a unique story to share, and we can gain so much wisdom and light from hearing each other, from banding together. The flame of independence and freedom is won in our daily interactions and our commitment to unity, and when I support another person’s right to believe and live differently than I do. I left the fire that night with a lingering feeling of awe. The grand and mighty plan, authored by our Heavenly Father is so much bigger than this moment. I felt humbled to see his star creations, millions of galaxies away, knowing how small I am- and yet feeling the calm of an infinite love, just for me. I smelled the lingering smokiness of the fire in my hair as I climbed into bed that night. While I am now back in the city, back to work, the lesson of the fire remains. Together we can light the world. Separated, we are just a pile of cold...
read moreFather’s Day
Dad: Part 1 Tucked away in my treasures is a hand-stitched, silk dress adorning a custom made doll. First sketched in his art books, and then molded from clay and cast with plaster. The paint, despite being 35+ years old encases a deep smooth shine. As a little girl, this doll stood tall on my bookshelf with a wireframe. She watched from afar as I grew from a toddler as a recipient, to a bride, who tucked the other earthly reminders of her father away as treasures to start a new life. The best part about this gift was the hidden pocket on her breast that held a simple note, “to Sarah with love from Daddy”. It felt like a golden lifeline and a connection from my dad whose tragic life ended too early. His influence on my life has been similar to the hidden note. I have felt his whispers beyond the grave periodically over the last 31 years since he passed. Whispers of healing and hope as I have worked through the complicated circumstances surrounding his life and death. I have felt his connection reading his journals and letters chronically our mirrored love of leaves and people, no matter where we are in the world. I have felt his presence and influence as I watch my own children explore their artistic talents and expression. In his absence, I have come to more fully appreciate the influence of my husband on our children and find peace in the missing parts of my family. Father’s Day can be challenging for many. I empathize with you. I also feel grateful for so many good men who play the part of a protector, of nurturer, of provider, of best friend and companion. My passion and encouragement of exploring the beauty and need we have for masculine and feminine rises because in part of my dad’s absence. Maybe the loss is a gift, to know and appreciate the beauty in fatherhood and hold tight the anchors of safety and love that came through divine plan B. Stitches of love, notes of encouragement, tucked safely in my chest. Grandpa: Part 2 This photo is my Grandpa David. The opportunity to go up to the Weber is synonymous with his adventuring spirit, abundant belief in our ability to create and be in the present moment. At just seven years old I was invited to make the arduous hike up and back to Fish Lake with him and his dear friend Aaron in a single day, (14ish miles round trip.) It was the hardest thing I had done physically in my life to that point. When we finally made it back to the dirt road, I couldn’t even speak the words of thanks to the person who came to find us and drove us the half-mile home, rather than walking. Grandpa had an unfailing belief in other people to do good. He just trusted you to show up and give it your best. While he has graduated this life for more than 20 years ago, his influence on my life and the world continues to ripple for good. I hope I can continue to be the kind of businesswoman, mother, and companion that he exemplified in his own life of service to his community...
read more2020 Census, Did you catch the pandemic and the earthquake?
This past week I filled out my family’s data for the 2020 Census. I like the feeling of being counted among my people. There have been days not too long ago that I scoured the handwritten census records from 1940 in New York City, looking for clues about my long lost family. Fancy cursive, in worn-out sepia toned ink and faded paper claimed roughly scratched names, including family members and their ages as a timestamp, a mark of being in the great American passport of belonging. I submitted our 2020 Census electronically. The form was short and clarifyingly complex. Three questions, “Who is in your house?” “How old is everybody?” and, “How are you related? We are a family of six, two parents, four kids, all originally belonging to each other. Isn’t it beautiful that there are all sorts of families out there, some who are under the same roof, but offer a more complex story of being connected. As I hit return on my keyboard, I imagine generations forward that may be interested in the living arrangements of their ancestors (me), looking for a clue of their belonging to us. I didn’t get a chance to report that in my Census but wanted to. The census reporting of 2020 came in the midst of a global pandemic, sprinkled here in Salt Lake City with a bout of earthquake. Followed by a spring snowstorm, and the unknowing daffodils making their vibrant show, just on time anyway. More than just a place holder for my people, I wanted to record the triumph of living through the massive upset of shutting down the globe in isolation to help stop the spread of the COVID-19 virus. I wanted to make sure the record told about the healthcare workers, the doctors, administration in our national and local governments who are making strides in keeping us safe. I wanted to record the history of my high school friend Derek, suiting up to work daily in a New York City hospital as a speech pathologist, describing the surreal surroundings of a fully-fledged workforce donning masks, gowns, gloves and eyewear – doing the ordinary grind – in the midst of panic and fear – and an explosion of hard to breathe. I wanted to permanently applaud our kid’s teachers who have adapted lesson plans to meet an online curriculum. And the ladies at the school making lunches and breakfasts – one less thing I need to do in the middle of my work day. After receving 8 brown bags of food, lovingly placed by gloved hands in the passanger window, I started crying tears of gratitude for so much support in this difficult time. I wanted to record the primal fear that I experienced while the ground beneath me shook. Also, Angel Moroni dropped his trumpet in the great shake out. On top of the Salt Lake City Temple for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, a gold leafed statue of Angel Moroni has been using his trumpet to herald a great call to Saints for centuries to share the good word of the gospel. Is it any wonder that all non-native missionaries around the world have been called back to their homeland and quarantined for 14-days? The census didn’t ask me, but for...
read moreAmeriCANS
True story. Americans are strong. Americans are brave. Americans are faithful. Americans are stalwart and courageous. Americans have survived wars, famine, bombings, economic devastation, civil unrest and natural disasters, but our spirits have never been broken. We have looked after our neighbors and our brothers and sisters for centuries. We are innovative and adaptable. We will get through this. The community dynamics of two weeks ago will not work in the coming days- the regular hours and open doors will have to be tweaked, but as a nation and a community we can and will adapt to the change. As I drove down 114th south yesterday on my way to do a grocery run for my mom I saw this breathtaking site- the American flag, waving strongly against a breeze. The sun was shining and the contrast of the clouds offered beauty. This is not the first time in American history that we have faced an enemy. In generations past, it had a face and a name. Today’s enemy has a name. Fear. He will not win the battle unless we close our hearts to God and our neighbor. He will not win the battle unless we stop adapting to our circumstances and lifting our friends where they are. He will not win unless we forget to breathe in the calm reassurance that even in our disarray and tumult we are okay. At this moment, you are okay. In America, we can and we will fight the battle of fear and win. We will come out stronger and kinder. We will come out of this a people united. “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for...
read moreDarkest Days, How To Get Through
Have you ever had a day that you didn’t know how you were going to get through, not just til’ nighttime, but the next few minutes? You ever know without a shadow of a doubt that you came to earth prepared for whatever challenges you would face, and were even were prepared for your specific Gethsemane… except in the face of reality, it was more than you could bear? In our intellect, we knew. And in mortality, it is HARD. Way harder than you imagined. Yet, here we are. This is the stuff we were made for, prepared for, trained for, lived for. This very moment. My aunt Susan gave me some really good advice. As we were preparing for my husband’s brain tumor surgery she shared about her journey – as a brain tumor survivor caregiver – just like me. She said, “somedays the win is that you get dressed, read your scriptures and survived the day.” From the outside, everything could look fine, and yet you struggle. There are heavy burdens to carry. If you are there, this post is for you. I get it. I know. I’ve been there. The beauty about the hard is surrendering, receiving, being lifted and strengthened beyond your ability to carry. The gift of the hard CAN BE a soft heart, a willing mind, a tuned in ear, leaning into the spirit waiting for an answer, respite, and hope. Maybe that’s why our creator allows us to suffer here in mortality because he knows that our hearts receive more fluently, the words of the spirit when our hearts are cracked open, broken; if we allow it. The battle may not be over, but at this moment you can win. The victory over fear and doubt and discouragement. Right now in this very moment, you are alive. You have breath. Your life has a purpose. Maybe today’s mission is to survive, to show your trouble and pain that you are stronger than they are. That you are willing to keep pushing forward, regardless of the outcome. You realize that the prizes handed out for participation could really be where it’s at. Being willing to show up and be in the game, regardless of the outcome. You are giving your best. Keep going. Don’t give up. You are here for a purpose. There are angels supporting you, more than you could possibly know. There is support available; mental, physical and spiritual. You are carrying the cross – but you don’t need to do it alone. If you can’t win the battle – win the day – if you can’t win the day – win this moment. The feeling of victory can carry you until the other wins are...
read moreThe Gift of Prayer
I am grateful for prayer. I love that in any instant I can connect to my creator and ask for support, resources, strength, and clarity. Prayer fuels my spirit with divine energy and purpose beyond what I can see right in front of me. Prayer helps me release my pride and the tight grip on how I expect things to go. It turns out, sometimes my prayers are answered, almost instantaneously with promptings, direction or peace. Other times it is a holding ground for me to work through deep and turbulent waters. Sometimes God helps me redirect my thinking as I lean into him, rely on him, and learn to expect assistance – even if the how looks different than I imagined. Sometimes prayer is met with silence. It is not yet time for my pleading to be answered, and in my longing, I am changed. In my drawn out supplication I come to understand that regardless of how it turns out, I know I am His, and His plan for my life is WAY better than anything I could ever conjure up. Sometimes prayer is a whisper, a gentle reminder of the heavenly home I left to enjoy the adventure of life with all the ups and downs. Other times it is pleading, that starts with His name, and ends with silence because he already knows. And I know that he knows, and so he sits with me. In all my doing, the best part of my day is when I remember Him throughout it, and when I am quiet enough to notice all the tender mercies he sends along the...
read moreA Beautiful State
If it is one thing, being in a refiners fire sure helps you learn, and quickly. I am incredibly grateful for the knowledge I have of a loving and sure God. I am also thankful for the many kind and gracious men and women who work on our behalf. Today I wanted to share a bit about suffering… and the oppositive which is peace and beauty. One of my mentors, Allyson Chavez, is teaching me about being in a beautiful state, and how that is where resources and connection is. These past two-years have been riddled with obstacles, heartbreak, and challenges. I had an epiphany today about suffering. We all continue to behave based on receiving a payout for that specific behavior. Even destructive behavior rewards us in some way, or else we wouldn’t partake, right? As I have been learning about creating and becoming and being – the truth comes back to one clear point. Suffering in adversity creates dissonance, pain, and despair. Circumstances are neutral. Being in a beautiufl state means I am creating, connected, empowered, full of ideas, and have access to resources. As I come to understand that as I remaining in a state of gratitude, I experience hope, clarity, and generosity – regardless of circumstances provides an instant connection to resources, ideas, and creativity. Especially in times of difficulty, being ingratitude is the answer to having the resources required to endure and thrive. So why is it so hard to stay in a beautiful state? Today I finally have a clear understanding of how I was using suffering against myself. As we have been navigating difficult challenges, I have been giving myself a huge payout for remaining in a suffering state. While I want to experience creation, power, and abundance; I’ve been thriving on pain, discouragement, and despair. I have been making a mental list of all the tragedy and heartache – as I watch my heartache and burden grow, I add to the list and repeat the burdens. No wonder I have been drowning in a vat of hopelessness. My payment has been the soul-tingling sensation of proof of my heartbreak. I have been desperately clinging to a glimmer of light that I could not hold because my feet were tethered to sinking. Transforming from suffering to beauty is a shift of perspective and finding proof of miracles, of peace and abundance. Last night for family night Jonny shared the story of the Pharisees and Sadducees condemning the Savior’s divinity because they could not see the signs. They were looking to the clouds and the sky for evidence of a forecast, and yet could not even recognize the Savior as their redeemer in the flesh. He talked about looking to God for evidence versus looking for proof of no evidence. They were looking at him eye to eye and didn’t see their sign. We can look to the birds, the butterflies, the changing of the seasons as evidence of a divine and magnificent creator. The summer of Jonny’s tumor diagnosis was a dark time for our family. And yet, heaven’s reminders wafted through the air gently and constantly on our path. We were inundated with butterflies, particularly white ones; dragonflies – the warrior type and morning doves. All of these creatures are reminders...
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