Don't let the bitter cup make you bitter.

Bitter-1.not sweet. 2. Angry, hurt or resentful because of one's bad experiences or a sense of unjust treatment.
So, we're weathering a couple of storms over at our house. And I know you are weathering some storms at your house. I know this because that's how life goes. Houses flood. Cars break down. People disappoint us. We disappoint them. And I, for one, do not like it. Do you know what I like? I like smooth sailing, good news, happy people, appliances that work perfectly- always, basically me bon voyaging through life.

Instead, we have occasional super awesome amazing days with lots of crazy other days. One of the things that's making me crazy right now is trying to register my mother's car. This is a long, whiny story, but it illustrates a principle. There are a few things required to register a car in the great state of GA, not a million things, just a few. Why is this so hard?

1. Title-In January Mom directed me to her safe and provided the combination. Unfortunately the safe was old, and the combination no longer worked. Coincidentally (miraculously) a friend was able to remove the door with his tools so the title was acquired. Crisis averted. Should be easy from here.

2. Driver's license-this includes birth certificate and marriage license which were on the moving truck which was supposed to come the end of January, but instead came the end of March. We ordered another birth certificate, but when trying to order the marriage certificate we were told by 3 counties that they didn't have it. For the record, it was in Salt Lake County (the first place we called).

3. Emissions certificate was obtained in January but expired while we waited for the marriage license. By the time the marriage license came, the car battery was dead. My husband replaced the battery. When he went in to get another certificate, he was told that he had to drive the car 100 miles with the new battery before they could issue another certificate. Mind you, we were to drive 100 miles without car registration. Basically, we were driving around trying to avoid the po po.

4. GA insurance. I was informed that Nationwide is not really nation wide. We needed insurance from GA. We got new insurance. A month later I received an email saying that I had not supplied proof of previous insurance. (I had emailed it to them.)  On the phone they said they would reinstate the insurance and they were sorry for the inconvenience. Today, June 3, I went again to try and register the car. I was told that our insurance policy was not in the GA data base. This was the 3rd visit to DDS in 3 months.

I did not feel sweet. I was angry and resentful because of my bad experience and had a sense of unjust treatment. I managed to not take it out on the DDS employee, but I was thinking up all kinds of threats in my mind for the insurance people. In the cooling down process, I have recalled some truths that I believe.

 Richard G. Scott said, "God loves us more than our happiness." We also know that "Man is that he might have joy." 2 Nephi 2:25 The hard part is trusting that the trials we encounter, ranging from inconvenient to excruciating, can land us in a joyful place. Obviously, we need to make the best choices we can to minimize upsets, but living in this mortal world as a mortal can be tricksy. From up close, sometimes it seems like life is really falling apart. But judging from the mountains in Yosemite, the bays and beaches in Hawaii, roses, fireflies, hummingbirds, butterflies, and sweet little chubby babies, God is a very good planner, and if we "Walk uprightly and be believing all things will work together for our good." Doctrine and Covenants 90:20

Since God created us, he knows all about what humans are capable of. He knows what he wants us to be and he knows how to get us there. He also knows that we have to choose. We have to choose to trust him and obey him and love him and try again when we do it wrong and call on the name of Jesus Christ for grace and mercy. In short he wants us to change into someone pure and beautiful and full of love and other Christlike qualities, one of which is patience.

 God wants his children to be like him and have the joy that he has.  I think about what I do to help my children change. If I want my children to become strong I might have them stack wood or some other strenuous, long lasting task, but they don't like it. If I want them to learn the law of the harvest, I have them plant and weed and water a garden, but they don't like it. If I want them to learn to be obedient, I give them rules and consequences, and they don't like it, but I don't care. I love them and I know they'll thank me later.

So, if my Heavenly Father wanted to help me be more patient, wouldn't it be perfect to have me encounter obstacle after obstacle in trying to accomplish a potentially simple task? I can be angry and learn the long slow way,  or I can be flexible and try again and look for lessons to learn and accept the opportunities to change and improve and trust that things will work for good.

Which leads me to the title of this post. This is a powerful little principle that my daughter taught me. Just as Jesus was humble and obedient in His trial and said, "Not my will, but thine be done." We can trust in God and his love and plan for us to change and grow and then serve him even better. We don't need to become bitter when we drink the bitter cup or cups that are a crucial part of this beautiful  process we call life. In fact "we can see that the Lord in his great infinite goodness doth bless and prosper those who put their trust in him." Hel 12:1 "The fear of man bringeth a snare; but whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe." So when I don't get what I want right now, even though it's an excellent idea if I may say so myself, I will try not be angry or resentful. I will be sweet and flexible and trust that I'm going to love the ending to my story.


PS. I got the car registered.

Mother's Day 2019

Well, it's Mother's Day today, and fun fact, I'm going to actually be with my mother. Since my Dad passed in January, I have had the privilege of having her live in my house. I'm going to tell the truth, I've been working a lot harder than I usually do. (Says the girl that dreams of sitting on the couch eating bon bons and watching happy endings) It feels much like having a baby. I have someone depending on me now, and I have to consider her needs whether it's inconvenient or not. But unlike a baby, she is grateful and thanks me and showers me with compliments. This person who rocked me when I cried, and changed and fed me when I needed it, the one who taught me how to count and walk and fold clothes and wash windows needs a little help. I am thrilled to be the one to give it to her.

And I want to do it right. It feels like a high and holy commission from God. Recognizing my deficits, I have had the desire as of late to become a better server. I want to advance from the present "Call me if you need anything" (which isn't a bad thing) to "Oh, you're a Jew and you've been taken by thieves, beaten and left on the roadside? Let me clean you, heal you, feed you and take you to an inn. I will pay the innkeeper and return in a few days." I believe God hears and answers prayers and desires, and one way he could be answering mine is by giving me time with my sweet mother.

Another way she is a blessing in my life is all that she teaches me through her example. Whether she's eating her meal at home at the dining table or in her bed at a hospital or rehab center, she bows her head to thank her Heavenly Father.

She treats people with respect. When her nurse or housekeeper or physical therapist or aid comes into her room she says, "_______, let me introduce you to my daughter." She calls people by name and is generous with her sincere compliments. Even though she's 83 years old and sometimes asks me the same questions (actually, I do that too) she has all her records in order. Where I'm forever looking for my receipts,cards, and documents, hers are filed and at the ready. She reads her scriptures every day and keeps the post office in business with all the Thank you notes she sends. Even though her heart is aching with the loss of her eternal sweetheart, she lights the room with her jokes and warm laughter. And she never buys any clothes that aren't pretty, even if they're on clearance,

Mom, I want to be like you when I grow up.

When your dad dies.

Dying has been part of conversations with my dad ever since I can remember. He'd make comments like, "Dying is easy. It's living that's hard," and "When I get old I'm going to stop going to the Doctor. I don't want to just be hanging around in bed," and "If I can't be in my garden, just let me die," and the most recent, "A friend told me if I get a good chance to die I should take it." I'd heard these comments a thousand times. I also saw him survive serious illness if not a thousand, definitely several times. When I was very young my father had an ostomy to help him overcome IBC. He contracted the mumps when I was about 8 years old.When I was a teenager he suffered from Bells Palsy. Later, my brother, Pete, donated his kidney to my Dad because his kidneys were failing. Dad had surgery on his lungs after several bouts of pneumonia. Each time he was in trouble I would try and picture life without him, and my heart would break.

During his last years, each visit came with the nagging question, will this be our last time together? This question made each minute together a tender gift. I definitely noticed his decline in health, but each time we thought it was the end, he would rally. My sister said that she saw where the doctor had written on his chart, "Does not die easily."

Last summer I was teaching my son, Gabe, how to garden.Watermelons were his most prolific crop. I was thrilled about this because Dad grew hundreds of watermelons and it felt like a family legacy. In the gardening process I remember thinking, "I need to ask Dad how to know when to harvest the melons." A few days later I got a call that Dad was failing and not communicating at all." I thought of my burning gardening question and began sobbing as I realized I might not have access to my father until the next life. As luck would have it, my Dad rallied again. I casually asked him on the phone through my tears when I should harvest my watermelons. (Yes I know about google, but where is the family heritage in that?)

Because of these frequent recoveries the actual end surprised me. On January 12, 2019, Mom called in the morning to ask us to pray for Dad because he wasn't doing very well. Of course I prayed, but I wondered, "Is this like last time when he wasn't doing very well and then he was?" When I got the message that he had passed I couldn't believe it.

As is my way, when I start to plummet emotionally, I jump into action. It's not always the most effective or efficient action, but action feels better than sadness. And action was good, because there was a lot to be done. There are 10 children in our family and it took contributions from everyone to make everything happen. We made arrangements to travel to Richfield, UT. Mary drove down first and took care of all the funeral details. Nieces created slideshows and table centerpieces. There were airport pickups, driving through snow, housing arrangements, musical preparations and lots of love to distribute.

I got to Richfield a couple of days before the funeral. I was able to learn about a day in the life in the nursing home by staying in the room with Mom a couple of nights. I enjoyed meeting the friends and nurses that my parents loved. It was a treat to listen to the Durfee band entertain with a morning concert. I did not enjoy the way that not enough residents sleep in the night. One gentleman called out for help at 4:00 am. I woke up with a start ready to save him.  I learned that he just likes to wake up early, but the nurses told him they won't let him get ready for the day until 6:00 am. The next door neighbor also wakes up in the night, bored, so just starts chatting. Bless everyone's heart.

Mary was working really hard planning the funeral, I worked a little bit trying to arrange Mom's move, but we managed to have a little play time. We hit the Mexican restaurant at least 3 times and I finally got to drive by the Miller home--bucket list win.

Thursday night the family headed over to Manti to gather, practice singing, and prepare for the next day's activities. I stayed with Mom so I could help her load the car and drive away from her life with Dad. As luck would have it, we woke up to snow. Not this Georgia girl's fave. I couldn't find an ice scraper so begged a plastic putty knife from the kind maintenance man. We'll just call that the first miracle of the day. With Mom in her van and me in my rental car we headed towards Manti. Unfortunately, my cell phone doesn't work very well in remote Utah towns so I had no GPS. I wasn't concerned however, because I was following Mom who had made the trip to Manti many times. Well, that was a lot of pressure for an 82 year old woman who had just lost her husband of 60 years. We missed the exit and found ourselves driving up an unfamiliar canyon. Looking for the second miracle of the day we solicited help from kind strangers who happily pointed us in the right direction. We were thankful but stressed, I'm going to say really stressed. We were an hour late to the viewing. I realized I had one job, and I didn't do it as well as I'd hoped. That being said, we made it.

When we walked into the church my heart filled with joy. Over a hundred of my favorite people in life were there to remember my father. I think that's what heaven feels like, siblings, nieces and nephews, aunts and uncles, old friends from California, children, even a friend from GA all bringing love.

There was a moment at the viewing when Mom and her children gathered around the casket. It's hard to describe the sacredness of that time. Our eternal family, gathered in one place. We missed my brother, Pete,

but it was a privilege to stand with those cherished people and say goodbye to our Dad who loved, taught, protected and provided for us.

Dad had been planning his funeral for years. I think it was one of his favorite activities. It was not  my mom's favorite activity. He had song requests, speaker requests, so many requests we were looking at an all day affair. We decided to have each child take 5 minutes. The daughters and daughter in law sang "I heard Him Come."

Heidi sang, "Consider the Lilies of the Field," and the Grandchildren sang "A Child's Prayer."

We came in under an hour. Mom said she wants the same program but instead of "Lilies of the Field," "Oh Holy Night." Heidi generously volunteered everyone else for that one.

The graveside dedication was picturesque with the Manti temple in the background and family in the foreground.















 The casket was beautifully crafted by the neighbor, wild flowers were placed on top. Wildflowers were a fitting choice. Dad was not a fan of too much order in the landscape. He didn't like it when "The lawn looks like an extension of the carpet." :)

Watching the handsome and beloved sons and grandsons carry the casket was another tender moment in an already tender day.

Upon returning to the church, the Manti ward provided a delicious luncheon.We used this time to finish the rest of Dad's requests. Melinda, Susie and Mary sang, "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" Dad's favorite performance by his daughters. Mary's girls sang, "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You." This was my parents' romance song. My family sang, "Dooley." It's a bootleg song, but Dad loved it because it came from the Andy Griffith Show. Melinda's family sang "120 Acres." Charlie and Meg sang "To Know, Know, Know You." It was the song playing during Mom and Dad's honeymoon. Charlie also walked on his hands as per Dad's request. Trevor and Jack sang "Dear Theodosia." One of our friends observed, "Millers put the fun in funeral." I'm proud of that.

I actually love funerals. I feel exhausted from the sadness and joy and love and sentiment and fear and faith that swirls in my brain and heart. But I'm so thankful that I had that person, and I like that I ache at their absence. Sorrow at parting tells me that I loved deeply and that is sweet knowledge. There have been many words describing what it's like when a loved one goes home. Those words are true, but that's not all, and I didn't know it until I felt it. It's happiness that the person is safe and home and free from mortal trials. It's regret for the missed opportunities for love that pride or anger or an unforgiving heart might have stolen for a while. It's a pain in my chest that lives there now. It's smiling when I think of him complaining about his big house because if he forgot his comb he had to walk too far. It's gratitude for his desire to love God and family and serve those around him, and it's hope that our family can gather again in a circle someday.

Washed white

Because of some recent opportunities in church, I have become a steward of sorts over about 20  white tablecloths. Can you imagine the beauty of brand spankin' new, gleaming white as snow tablecloths? Five of the linens blanca debuted at a luncheon serving some very responsible adults .To our credit, the menu included food that was light in color; poppyseed salad dressing, creamy chicken and wild rice soup, bread, and a lovely lemon curd dessert. There were a few berries in the dessert, but they went straight from the spoon to the mouth in all cases. The diners ate very neatly and left the tablecloths with minimal food damage.  I took the tablecloths home, treated a few low pigment spots and washed them 2 at a time. I loved pulling them out of the dryer restored to their gleaming state and then folding them and returning them to their wool white sisters.

Outing # two for these fair maidens was earlier this week. It was a special occasion and they did their job making everything look beautiful. They held their centerpieces and place settings well as spotless canvas ready to receive fallout from life. The guests at this event were responsible as well. It was a wonderful gathering with all ages of lovely people. As one would expect with younger guests, a few berries and chocolate smear landed on the white. Such is the fate of tablecloths. If they do their job. they receive soil and stain, for life is all about mistakes and imperfection. Once again, I took the tablecloths home. This time I had 11. This time I had reds and browns to scrub and soak. My bathroom was full of  tainted piles of white.Then my washer was full of piles of not as tainted mostly white. But into my dryer I placed clean white cloths. In hopes that I could minimize the wrinkles I draped the cloths on all the banisters of my house. My world was white like winter, white like a new start, white like I imagine perfection to be.

The Prophet and President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day-Saints, Russell M. Nelson, has asked us to read The Book of Mormon before the end of the year. I have read this powerful Testament of Jesus Christ many times. I am reading it again before the end of the year as requested. I have marked scriptures that testify and teach of Jesus Christ. I have marked passages that teach me how I can be a better disciple. I have marked old favorite verses that mean more to me every time I read them. I observe that life has taught me and changed me and prepared me to make this reading the best yet.


Today I read Alma 13:11-12 "...They were sanctified, and their garments were washed white through the blood of the Lamb. Now they, after being sanctified by the Holy Ghost, having their garments made white, being pure and spotless before God, could not look upon sin save it were with abhorrence; and there were many exceedingly great many, who were made pure and entered into the rest of the Lord their God."

And do you know what? I knew what white was. As I read about garments being made white I thought of yards of tablecloths draped on my banisters. When I read about being pure and spotless before God I pictured my bathroom as the starting place for removing chocolate and berry trifle. When I read about looking on sin with abhorrence I thought of how glorious clean tablecloths are and what a shame it is when they become stained. And when I read about being washed white through the blood of the Lamb, I felt love and gratitude for my Savior that I can become clean when I make mistakes and be sanctified if I believe on His name and repent and walk the covenant path.

I'm thankful for white tablecloths and new starts.