I was listening to the Mormon Channel at work the other day and heard a talk by Elder Bednar. He mentioned that our faith is worth whatever we have to pay for it. That got me thinking about what price I have and would pay for my faith in Jesus Christ to increase. Several months ago, I heard the great blogger, Stephanie Nielsen speak about whether, if given the chance, she would return to her former, unburned self. Well, of course, her answer was no. She said she is finally the mother she has always wanted to be. It made me ponder whether I would ever return to the days when my skin was so much prettier, my cheeks were rosey and the hope of having children was still in my mind. Believe it or not, I have decided I wouldn't return to those days. There is nothing I would trade for the relationship I have gained with Father in Heaven and with my older brother Jesus Christ in these last four or five years. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I had been one of those fortunate ones to have married young....and then I just dismiss the thought. I know for certain that I would not have been the type of daughter and mother that my Father, or I, would have been proud of. I wasn't ready to be a wife when I was in my twenties, thirties or forties. I am still working on my physical self, which does have a lot to do with my spiritual self I have come to realize. Once I can conquer all those physical demons that seem to haunt my life, I will be ready for marriage. But what about him? Where is he and will he be ready for me???

"Let us cheerfully do all things in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for His arm to be revealed."

 D&C 123:17

I am trying to do just this ... not always successfully, but, nevertheless, earnestly. For example, this whole marriage thing, or rather, lack of it, has been really in the forefront of both my waking and sleeping thoughts lately. Sometimes I am full of faith in the promises I have been given through my Patriarchal Blessing and my prayers. But, many times, I feel so overwhelmed and scared by the whole prospect of living alone for the rest of my probably long life.

  "...Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief..." (Mark 9:24)

A couple of weeks ago, my home teacher advised me, in a round about way, to move on and accept the fact that I'm not going to be married during this earthly life. Sorry, but I don't think so. What is life without hope?  I jokingly told the gal who sits next to me at work that I was just waiting for my future husband's current wife to pass away so I could get married. She asked me if I already had someone in mind. I emphatically advised her that I certainly did NOT and hoped with all my heart that I did NOT know the poor woman! She then asked me how I thought I would meet my intended. My answer was this: "The Lord brought together the earth and the seas when he created the world, don't you think that He could bring two people together?" I know it would certainly be a miracle if I were ever to find any man who thinks he could put up with me more than a couple of hours ... let alone eternity. But I have already seen so many miracles in my life. Couldn't it happen through some strange twist of fate? I've told friends my husband may need to be both blind and deaf ... and possibly in a coma... but he MIGHT just be out there somewhere.

 

I've been thinking about the blessings of receiving service. Yes, receiving--and not just the temporal blessings, which are fairly obvious, but the spiritual and emotional blessings. I am a witness to the fact that I have been changed in a real way by the love of people I know and people I don't know. The love I have received has not been because I somehow deserved it, but, rather, because my Heavenly Father knew I needed it. For it is only natural to receive love from those whom you have spent time loving. But what about the love that comes from people you hardly know or don't even know? It changes you in a real, substantive way. That kind of love I've received has brought me a feeling of being rescued by the grace of God. I feel it has made me wonder at the blessing of the Atonement of the Savior, for He has come to my rescue through the angels He has put in my pathway in this life, those on this side of the veil and on the other side. Speaking of those angels on the other side, I used to want to hang my head in shame to know they are watching me and felt as if they were probably somehow scolding me and disappointed in the stupid things I do in my life. But I have been wrong. Those unearthly angels are, instead, cheering me on with hope that I will succeed, all the while whispering in my ear their sweet loving words of encouragement. I know this is true when I remember the special examples they were with me on this side of heaven. I have become a different person with the help of these seen and unseen friends in in my life. I have become convinced that I can find my footing, even when I cannot see my next step through the mists of darkness that pervade this life. I have always loved the words to the great hymn "Lead Kindly Light." The words were written in 1833 as a poem by John Henry Newman, titled "The Pillar of Cloud." A fourth verse was added by John Bacchus Dykes in 1865 and appears in some hymnbooks: 

"Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th'encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on! Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene; one step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou shouldst lead me on; I loved to choose and see my path; but now lead Thou me on! I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years! So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still will lead me on. O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till the night is gone, And with the morn those angel faces smile, which I Have loved long since, and lost awhile! Meantime, along the narrow rugged path, Thyself hast trod, Lead, Savior, lead me home in childlike faith, home to my God. To rest forever after earthly strife In the calm light of everlasting life." (Greg Olsen)

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...