Another Christmas Miracle

Wow! What a Christmas this was! I have had several timely, direct answers to prayers through the service of my dear friends and family. December started with me worrying how in the world I was going to come up with gas money to meet all my service obligations at Temple Square with my unemployment benefits ending. If I had to wait for Congress to vote on extended unemployment benefits, I could possibly be dead before they finished that task. I felt profoundly depressed for a few moments, contemplating the lack of meaningful action in Washington DC.  I then walked out to my mailbox and promptly found an anonymous gift of $100 addressed to me, certainly enough to cover my transportation expenses. I have lived long enough to know that I do not live on Kolob time, so blessings often don't arrive at the time I expect them. But what an exception this was! Why do I ever worry about such things? The Lord assigned me the service at Temple Square so why wouldn't He provide a way for me to fulfill the obligations? Why do I even bother to waste my time worrying about such trivial things? Two weeks after my unemployment benefits ended, Congress actually did vote them back in. Heavenly Father even inspires politicians...

Anna

While watching a video about President Monson’s biography “To the Rescue,” I remembered my dear Swedish friend Anna and her fortuitous meeting with Apostle Monson during the Sweden Temple open house.

The Lord sent me Anna’s friendship through her Visiting Teaching service when I lived in an apartment in Midvale, Utah. She was in her 80s and so was her companion Bette. They both lived in my building. Anna had macular degeneration, but still she found her way by bus to the Jordan River Temple to work there three days a week. She swam laps every summer morning in the complex’s pool and walked, rain, snow or shine, to church every Sunday. Anna was quite fit and her mind remained very sharp until she collapsed in her apartment one day following a stroke.

It was always so fun to speak with Anna. I felt a kinship to her, because of her outspokenness about current issues and gospel matters. She was so bright and well read, so interesting, that I felt much closer in age to her than the 40 some years that separated us. Anna was a friend I came to love and looked forward to seeing her any chance I could get, not just once a month.

Many aspects of Anna’s life, especially her achievements, were not known to me until they were revealed during her funeral. Before coming to the United States after the death of her husband, Anna lived in a small apartment in Sweden where she and her husband raised their two daughters. She was a fifth generation Mormon, but had married a non-member because of the lack of LDS men in Sweden. So Anna sent her daughters to BYU so they would find temple-worthy husbands, which they did.   

Anna was a very active Swedish member. She served as the Stake Primary President and traveled many miles by train every week to fulfill her calling. Anna also knew English very well, so she translated all the Primary songs from English to Swedish. However, there was something important missing from Anna’s life. Since she was married to a non-member, she was not allowed to obtain her own temple endowment. This was a sad thing for her to accept, especially when the Sweden Temple was built, so close to her home.

Anna, being the dutiful church member she was, served as a tour guide at the new temple’s open house. One day then Apostle Thomas S. Monson came to visit the not yet dedicated temple. He noticed Anna and asked her if she was excited about finally having a temple in her country. Of course Anna said yes, but the spirit caused her ask Elder Monson why she was not allowed to receive her own endowment and do temple work. He didn’t have a ready answer. Instead he advised her that he would bring her question back to the next First Presidency and Twelve meeting in Salt Lake.

Well, as you may have already guessed, Anna’s long time prayer was answered and all worthy members were allowed to receive their endowment, whether they were married to someone who could join them or not.

I visited Anna in the hospital after her stroke, but I knew her time on earth was short. The illness had robbed her of her speech and, being the outspoken woman she was, I knew the Lord would not make her endure that challenge for long. Within a few weeks, Anna passed away. However, President Monson remembered his long time friend and was able to give her a final priesthood blessing the day before she passed away.

How blessed I am to have known Anna. She was such a great example to me of faith. She never seemed to fear anything. Anna stepped out into life, even when the destination was unclear, because she knew her Savior had her life in the palm of His Hands. I hope I can someday become as faithful.

  

A Christmas Miracle

I have been remembering a Christmas-time miracle that happened to me two years ago. On that cold December night, I was driving home from a friend's, thinking about how discouraged I felt about being unemployed. Two blocks from home, I saw red lights flashing in my rear view mirror. As I pulled over, I thought about my long expired plates I still hadn't taken care of yet. But how could I pay the taxes and fees with no money? As the policeman wrote out the ticket (after informing me that he could impound my car if he wanted to) I just said a silent prayer to Heavenly Father that begged Him to find a way for me to pay for the registration fees and now another $45 for this ticket. I cried as I drove home, but I had just left the matter in His hands, since I couldn't think of a way to solve it. As I walked down the steps to my basement apartment, I could see something on my doorstep. I had been getting the Twelve Days of Christmas, mostly candy and small, sweet trinkets. I couldn't see what this item was, but it was too heavy to pick up with my one free hand. I opened the door and came back for what turned out to be a large jar. As I brought it into the light, I could see it was completely full of change! I went back to my bedroom and dumped the jar's contents on my bed. The coins fell out all over my bed, along with a $100 bill! I counted the money and it was over $230...enough to pay my car taxes and the ticket. Tears flowed as I realized that this was an immediate answer to my prayer. 

I've had a lot of time in the last five months of being unemployed (again) to reflect upon that lesson I learned. I sometimes start feeling some sort of guilt for not being more worried about my circumstances. This is the longest I have been unemployed. Every time I turn on the news, I hear about how the economy in turning around and that Utah has the lowest unemployment in the country. So why can't I find work? I feel more confused than depressed.  Despite my sad financial situation, I have grown closer to the Savior and become a better disciple. He has put people in my life to strengthen me, people that I feel privaleged to know and that I would never have met if I hadn't been through the adversity I have had in my life in the last five years. My heart has softened; I don't see the world as black and white as I used to. And I am trying to see myself more like the Savior does. I am beginning to believe that I can be worthy of some of those blessings that I never thought I could have in this life, like good friends, a thinner body, health, a good job....and maybe even a husband. Although, I still am having some wavering doubts that a man has ever been born that could put up with me for more than a couple of hours, let alone eternity. But, as they say, hope springs eternal. But that's another blog for another time...

Thoughts About My Dad

"If we can look back through the generations, we see those who helped us to get where we are now—those who forged the way before us, whether they were members of the Church or not. And in the restored gospel we realize even more deeply our responsibility to link them to us through the ordinances of the temple. In a letter from the Prophet Joseph Smith to the members of the Church, we read: 'These are principles in relation to the dead and the living that cannot be lightly passed over. . . . For their salvation is necessary and essential to our salvation, . . . they without us cannot be made perfect—neither can we without our dead be made perfect' (D&C 128:15; see also verse 18)."

Elder Neil L. Andersen

I have been thinking about the passing of my Dad 29 years ago this month. He was only 54. Dad was the last  of nine children, with seven sisters and the oldest also a boy. So his siblings always called him "Sonny," which I thought was crazy, since he was "kinda old." Well, I don't see it that way today, now that I am 51. How time does change our perspective on such matters. 

I have often thought about my relationship with my Dad. When I lived at home, I felt like he and I had nothing in common. We didn't have the same opinion on anything, it seemed. And I often felt perplexed about why he chose to drink so much. I hated talking to him when he was drunk, which was about the only time he felt like conversing with me. I would just ignore him or just be plain rude, typical teenage mode. I also hated his smoking. When we were really broke and he couldn't afford his unfiltered Pall Mall cigarettes, he would take to rolling his own. I imagine he smoked nearly all his life, beginning long before the Surgeon General's warning. Dad left home at 14 because his father was physically abusive and went home at 17 only to have his parents sign him into the Navy in 1944, where he served until 1966. He never seemed very happy. His hands shook a lot and I always thought it was because he was an alcoholic. When I was 22, four years after I had moved away from home, Dad finally went to the doctor and discovered he had cancer. It was no big surprise to any of us, since he had been coughing all the time and seemed sick when I lived at home. But, back then, people in my Dad's generation didn't want to hear the "C" word, since it almost always meant a death sentence. And I guess it was. After the diagnosis in April, my Dad passed away in November. 

 

After his death, I had time to think about all my Dad's great attributes. He really did love my Mom, my sister and I, even if he didn't want anymore children after two girls. I think he was afraid of being surrounded by lots of girls, just like when he grew up. Dad was an alcoholic, but he was a functional one, always working hard and saving his drinking for the evenings and weekends. He was never abusive. In fact my Mom would often threaten my sister and I that, if we didn't behave, Dad would spank us when he got home. The thought of this would make us beg Mom not to tell Dad, fearing his supposed wrath. Well, I can only remember a couple of times that my Dad actually spanked me, although I am quite certain I deserved it many more times. His idea of a spanking consisted of him taking his belt and hitting my behind ever so lightly that my crying was just from the humiliation of it all. I'm sure now that he preferred not to be like his father. So why were my sister and I so afraid of Dad? We saw him very little from the time I was five until he hurt his back and was in bed for six months when I was 10, which is not a great time to get to know someone, as you may guess. My sister, Mom and I were supposed to go with him to Spain when I was five. However, President Kennedy had been killed the year before and, with the change in administrations, the base housing had not been funded. My Dad claimed it was because President Johnson was not a Navy man like Kennedy. So Mom, my sister and I instead moved to Iowa, near my Mom's aging parents, while my Dad was stationed overseas. I can only remember seeing my Dad a couple of times until he retired from the Navy. Then he took a job that required 12-14 hour days. He left for work in the morning before we arose and came home at night after our bedtime. (Yes, those were the days when children actually had a bedtime, but I digress.) Dad was always proud of my sister and I. After all, we were pretty mild kids, compared to many of the teenage trouble-making kids in our small town. No hot gossip about the Weinkauf girls was ever told. 

Through many years of reflection and gradual insight, I have come to realize that I am, indeed, very much my father's daughter. I have the "familial shake" he had, as does my nephew.  I have the depression Dad never had diagnosed, but, nevertheless, self medicated himself for. My "drug" of choice is and always has been food. I even look like the Weinkauf side of the family, whereas my sister has more of the McCoy and Hixson attributes. 

In 1983, my brother in-law performed the proxy temple work for my our Dad in the Washington DC Temple. Later that year, I began to serve in the Virginia Roanoke Mission and commenced praying for an answer about whether my Dad had accepted the Gospel of Jesus Christ on the other side. One night while I was kneeling by my bed in White Sulphur Springs, West Virgina, I felt my Dad's presence, standing behind me with my friend Randy McMillan who had passed away in 1978. I had always hoped that Randy was able to find my Dad and teach him the gospel. Now I knew he had. Tears rolled down my face as a flood of emotion overwhelmed me, along with the positive answer I had been seeking. Dad would never talk to me about how he felt about the Lord. He just told me it was private and they he didn't feel that he needed to share it with anyone. But now I knew that he was progressing on the other side. I felt so much relief. Then I concentrated on praying that my Mom would take the missionary discussions and join the Church. But that's another story for another time...

I thought I would share the article that I submitted to the Ensign. It was rejected, but this was the letter I received:

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Dear Author:

            Thank you very much for sending us your submission. It is a pleasure to see new material. Every piece received is individually reviewed by the editorial staff.

            Unfortunately, we will not be able to publish your work. Because of limited magazine space and the increasing number of such submissions as the Church grows, the Church magazines are able to publish only a very small percentage of the many good items received. We regret that the time it takes to process hundreds of incoming submissions does not allow us to make comments about each one individually.

            Please accept our thanks for the time and effort put into your work. We know that submissions like yours are goodwill offerings in support of the Church. We hope the work that has gone into this one will be a benefit to you and your family.

                                                            Sincerely,

                                                            Ensign Editorial Staff

Dear Sister Weinkauf,

Just an added note to our usual letter: Your beautiful and most precious vision is just too sacred to be shared with the world. We want to assure you that we cannot publish your story for this reason only. However, we thank you for the privilege of being able to read it and hope it is included in your personal journal.

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The Vision

The beautiful warm spring evening should have held all the possibilities the season brings, but, instead, I felt truly overwhelmed by life. I had always struggled with clinical depression, but some days seemed worse than others and the pain always seemed to deepen when the sun disappeared. Everything, and nothing, was wrong. Many small problems had all amassed to become a mountain of anxiety. Then I discovered that the old refrigerator in my basement apartment had quit working. It seemed like the last straw. I put on my shoes, left my apartment and began walking toward the apartment complex down the street where many of the people in my singles ward lived. The name of my friend Dale entered my mind. It occurred to me I should ask him for a priesthood blessing. Immediately, I thought of all the reasons I shouldn't go to his apartment. It was nearly 10:00. What if he had a date there? What would I say? But the desire for a blessing was stronger than my doubts.

He answered the door with his usual smile, surprised to see me so late on a weeknight, but his kindness emerged as he asked what he could do for me. He could tell I'd been crying. I spoke with him for a few minutes about how I felt and he revealed to me his mother also dealt with depression in her life. I asked Dale if he would give me a priesthood blessing. As he laid his hands upon my head, he began to quote scripture. The rebellious nature in me thought, “He's doing this because he doesn't know what to say to me.” But the following scripture slowly melted my rigid heart:

...Mary stood without at the sepulchre weeping: and as she wept, she stooped down, and looked into the sepulchre, And seeth two angels in white sitting, the one at the head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. And they said unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? She saith unto them, Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him. And when she had thus said, she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus. Jesus saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away. Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rabboni; which is to say, Master. (John 20:11-16)

  I felt myself transported to that early morning garden, instantly aware of the chirping birds, the buzzing bees and the fragrant smell of the flowers and other plants surrounding me. I felt the warmth of the sun creeping through the leaves of the trees, warming my dark hair as I felt the dry earth beneath my feet. I raised my bowed head to see the radiant face of my Savior. I straightaway wrapped my arms around Him, resting my face on His chest, sensing the coarse fabric of His robe becoming damp with my tears. I felt the calmness, the total refuge and the pure love of Christ for which I had been longing.

Too soon I was pulled back into Dale's living room as he closed the blessing. However, the spirit of the vision lingered, leaving me with an unmistakable feeling of comfort. I wasn't able to convey my intense feeling to Dale just then, but left him with the promise that I would speak with him the next day.

As I made my way home through the darkness, I couldn't help but continue to feel the warm embrace of my Savior. I no longer felt overwhelmed, but felt a deep assurance that, with the Savior's support, my problems would find resolution.

More than 20 years have come and gone since that choice experience. Since then, life has handed me even more difficult challenges and sorrows. But when I approach Him in prayer, the unfolding of my Savior's love and assistance has helped me not only cope with but triumph over more obstacles than I ever thought was possible. I've become aware that the Savior's understanding of my heart far surpasses my own. He doesn't see my inadequacies through the magnifying glass of clinical depression, nor does He compare my accomplishments, or lack thereof, with those of others. Jesus Christ shows me, through the Holy Ghost, that I am the unique, capable woman I have always been, His sister and His friend whom He redeemed through great agony that ancient night in another garden known as Gethsemane.

  * Art by Greg Olsen and Heinrich Hofman

Today I had a second interview at a company I interviewed for on Tuesday. My interview was with the COO. The gentleman that I previously interviewed with advised me that it was between me and one other person. I received a call back from him this evening, advising me that NEITHER of us was chosen for the job. The reason I was not chosen is that the COO felt that I would not have enough people skills for the position, according to his perception of me during the interview. I have thought about this all night and wondered if he could be right?? If he is, how will I EVER find a job?

 1 Corinthians 13:11-12:
11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12 For now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

I have often thought about these biblical verses and how they apply to my life.

I have been reading a book by Don H. Staheli called "It's the Principle of the Thing."   The author recalled his ninth grade introduction to gymnastics:

   One day, the coaches decided to see who would really go for it on the high bar. All the students and a few coaches crowded around the bar and the floor-softening mats. One boy began swinging back and forth, higher and higher to build his momentum, with the idea in mind of letting goat just the right moment on the upswing and rolling in the air in a flip before landing on the mat--hopefully, feet first. Few had the courage to even attempt such a death-defying feat.

  When the coach looked my way and motioned for me to grab the bar and start swinging, I eagerly jumped to the task. A little spit, a cloud of chalk dust on my hands, and up to the bar I leapt. Now swinging, now gaining some speed and height, it was time to attempt a flip off the bar.

   To my surprise, I couldn't let go. The more I determined to cast my body to the wind, to challenge the forces of gravity, to avoid the humiliation of failure, the tighter became my grasp on that cold steel bar.

   "Let go," cried the coach. "Now!" he yelled.

   "You can do it!" screamed my classmates in futile support. But the more they coaxed, the firmer my grip became.

   Finally, dropping to the ground in defeat, I looked up at that bar and pronounced it a demon. Of course, I couldn't let go. I wanted to. I wasn't afraid, but it had in its evil clutches. It conquered us all day. Not a boy who tried was able to wrest himself free of the monster bar. Not one of us soared. Not a flip was performed. It beat every one of us. 

In the last few years, I have had to come to a realization myself that I need to learn to "let go." Let go of what you might ask? How about that bar that I see as safety, but really is just my insecurities and past failures. There is a different bar I could grip to REALLY help myself. It's the "iron rod" spoken of by Father Lehi.  This piece of metal differs from the first one in that it helps us move ahead, straight toward our goal of eternal life, not trapping us in the past, like that first bar. That first bar, representing our demons, tries to keep us attached to the false security of doubts and fears. However, when we let go of it, the Lord is waiting right there to catch us in His Everlasting Arms.

So, enough with all these metaphors. How does this REALLY WORK IN MY LIFE??? Well, I have to admit that it hasn't always been a linear process. Sometimes I find myself going back to the supposed "safety" of my doubts and fears. You see, if I don't try, I won't fail. (Wrong, of course.) But I do keep trying to overcome my past failures by remembering my past successes. And, yes, I have had success. When I was 18 I stepped out into the black nothingness of moving 1100 miles from everything I knew and all with which I felt secure to living in a new state with no friends or family. I even decided to jump into a new religion, a new way of life of which I had little knowledge. Why did I take such a big risk to possibly be humiliated by failure? Well, I had prayed about my decision and the Holy Ghost had confirmed to my mind that I was indeed making the right decision. But, as I have gotten older and have had a lot more failures in my life, I have become more fearful of jumping into the seeming abyss without a net. But am I ever really doing that if I have prayed about my decision and have had the Spirit witness to me its correctness? I am finding that the only time in life I have failed is when I have let my insecurities hold me back from being proactive in life. So often, by not being decisive, I have just gone with the current of the river of life, letting it bring me wherever it may. The problem with this tact is that I don't always like where I have landed. It hasn't always been on the soft sandy shore, but rather on the rocks.

Well, what I'm trying to say is this: I am trying to overcome my doubts and failures and move on in my life by trying to see myself as my Savior sees me: a capable and confident woman with all the tools I need to really succeed. After all, long ago, didn't I choose to jump into this mortal life with my eyes closed, placing a veil of forgetfulness between me and all that I had ever known?

As I have been losing weight, I have to keep telling myself that my past diet failures have nothing to do with my efforts at this time in my life. After all, I am no longer a "child." I have learned too much through the adversity I have muddled through in the last four or five years. I can succeed with Heavenly Father's help. I have also learned that there are many of my friends and family who have passed away to the other side of the veil who are rooting for me..not to speak of those family and friends on this side of the veil. So, with all this help and encouragement, I have enough of a safety net to actually jump. After all, like Miranda Lambert says in one of her songs, "How can you know if you can fly if you don't jump?"  I also like Mary Chapin Carpenter's lyrics that say, "Why walk when you can fly?"

When my friend Shari passed away two years ago next month, I continued to mourn for her by shedding a tear each time I drove by the cemetery, which happens to be located only six blocks from my apartment and on the way out of town. So, basically, I felt really sad at least twice a day...and oftentimes more than that. I just couldn't move on and feel any kind of peace about her passing. Shari had been just 50 years old when she passed away of pancreatic cancer. She left behind eight children, four of whom were 18 and under. And there was that brand new granddaughter she loved so much and her husband of 27 years... I missed my continued association with her. I missed her love and hugs and concern...and testimony of the gospel. I wished I could have somehow done more for her. And sometimes I wished that I could have even taken her place. After all, who would miss ME? Shari's death was such a profound loss to her family and everyone around her. It should have been me. Why would Heavenly Father take her and leave a person as insignificant as me? Well, I continued to feel just a deep sense of loss until the following August 2009. Let me tell you what happened to ease my suffering. I was attending my niece Catie's endowment ceremony in the Nauvoo Temple and was standing in the Celestial Room watching Catie's fiancee bring her through the veil. I felt such a feeling of joy that I had not felt since before Shari's passing. As I hugged my niece when she entered the Celestial Room, my mind recalled the first time I entered the Salt Lake Temple's Celestial Room way back in 1983 when I received my endowment. I remembered that Shari was the first one to greet me there, with a big hug and a whisper in my ear that said, "Hug me. This is how it will be when we're all in the Celestial Kingdom together." A huge feeling of comfort and joy washed over me as I remembered this nearly forgotten moment. My Heavenly Father had sent me this special gift to bring me release from the constant grief I had about Shari. Last month was the anniversary of the passing of three of my (and Shari's) special friends: Randy McMillan who passed away in 1978, his mother Beverly in 2003 and his dad Howard in 1991. Autumn always causes me to reflect on what Randy would be like if he had lived. He was just 22 when he passed away of Leukemia. What would the 54 year old be like? I can only see him as I remember him...with the wavy sandy blond hair and youthful smile. Would the lessons he learned during his illness have made him an even bigger spiritual giant now than he was then? In what field would he be working? What would his wife and family be like? Would we still be friends? I hope so. Randy's sister in-law Bonnie told me that she has seen Randy's and Shari's spirits by me, pulling for my success. Another gift from a caring and wise Heavenly Father.... I am reminded of D&C 130:2:

"And that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy."

I am an Old Maid living in Happy Valley, Utah. Am I trying to be a martyr? No...really. I fell in love with Alpine when speaking with my long-time friend Shari about her love of the area. I had always thought I was too outspoken for the Happy Valley folks, but Shari was even more outspoken than me. Yes...really. Well, my thought was that maybe I would have a shot at being happy here too. After all, the scenery is so beautiful here and I have always had a secret desire to belong in an area full of Molly Mormons...not that I would EVER be mistaken as one of the Church's elite. But I have found, after a mere two years, that I do feel loved and wanted. Maybe I'm just a curiosity to these folks...an example of what diversity in the Church means? Nevertheless, I can't think of a single person in the neighborhood that I don't love and admire. In fact, I have already chosen my eternal resting place in the Alpine Cemetery...right next to my friend Shari. Since I don't see any marriage on my horizon, what better place to rest than by a friend who was like a sister to me? And when I wake up on Resurrection Day, the first person I see will be someone I love. After all, Iowa, where my parents and grandparents lie in their eternal resting spots, should be just a hop, skip and a jump after resurrection, right? Isn't that great that I have my life after death planned? Now...back to current reality. Where do I find a good job to support me till I can rest in eternal peace?