The Hardest Test

Wildfire season comes like clockwork out West, just a few weeks after the snows melt in the high country. With it come the “Hotshot” crews, those specially trained young people who spend their summers struggling to save wild lands and animals, people and their homes. They once stopped a fire just a few miles from our place on the Rim. Early this summer in Arizona a terrible wildfire ended the earthly lives of nineteen of these brave young firefighters. Dozens, even hundreds, of those they left behind now mourn. These young men were beloved husbands, sons, fathers, grandsons, brothers, and dear friends. They were called away in the very prime of life, finishing their mission here on earth decades before anyone expected them to move on. The prayers of millions go out to Father on behalf of their loved ones who must suffer terrible grief at this time.

I’d like to share some thoughts with the hope that it may help someone.

It’s said that life is full of tests. In fact one of the purposes of coming to earth, besides to obtain a physical body, and build an eternal family, is to prove that we can come up with the right answer when life gives us a test. Some tests challege us, or disappoint us, or cause us to grapple with hard decisions. But none, I think, is as difficult as when you’re asked for a response when you must stand over the open grave of someone you love more than life itself. Hearts then are so broken and grief weighs so heavy that it’s hard even to breathe. Even so, generations to come may feel the effects of the answers that must be given at that time.

During my life I’ve watched people take that test and it’s taught me some great lessons. One was my mother. She was just in her thirties when her test came. She and my dad were the parents of four children....ages two to eleven. I was the oldest but even at my young age I knew that they were deeply in love. We had just moved into a brand new home. Our loving family was full of promise. Then, one night, on his way home from work, our dad was killed in a car accident. A young man still in his thirties, husband and father of four young children, gone in an instant, our lives never to be the same.

At the time all I could do was to think of my own childish grief and pain. Later I realized that the burden my mother carried was far greater. She’d lost the love and center of her life, her husband and the father of her children. Life seldom deals a crueler blow.

So there she stood, over that open grave, and life asked her to respond.

What she said affected all of our lives forever.

She said “I can’t bear this pain. I can’t live without him. I can’t go on. I’m in complete despair. There’s no hope. The pain has to stop!”

So she tried to stop the pain with alcohol.

It began the week my father died. I never saw the mother that I had known before again, and it ended her life many years before she actually died. I realized later that both of our parents were taken in that terrible car crash.

After I grew up and married, my husband and I learned some important truths and became Mormons. After years in the city we took our family to live in a small community in the Arizona mountains. There was a large LDS population there. It was the kind of place where everybody knew each other so well that people joked, “You don’t need to put on your turn signal, we know where you’re going.” In that small town, where neighbors often became dear friends, that’s where I saw others take this same kind of test.

One was a sister that I worked with in Young Women’s. She was a happy wife and mother of five and a joy to be around. Her family was her life. Her oldest daughter was the first to go off to college, an incredibly lovely, amazing and valiant young woman not yet twenty. She was killed in a highway accident in her first year at University of Arizona.

Another test was taken by the family of one of my gradeschool students. A beautiful little brother...a smiling toddler full of life... drowned one sunny summer day. Their family was heartbroken.

And so there they stood. Over that open grave. Laying young people to rest before they had a chance to fulfill the dreams that all had for them.

I looked hard at their faces. There with hearts broken and tears streaming they took that hardest of tests. The one that will affect generations to come. This is the answer I saw through their grief.

I saw hope.  

I could barely believe it, but incredibly, through those tears I saw hope instead of despair.

I saw something more too. Later as they went on living I saw them give other answers to that hardest of tests.  They said with the way they lived their lives.........

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Heavenly Father that this amazing person is a part of my family! Thank you that we loved each other so very much and always will.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Heavenly Father that you sent your son Jesus Christ to come to earth. Thank you that he completed his mission and conquered death so that we may all live again!”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, that because of Christ’s mission I know in my very soul that I’ll hold my dear one in my arms again someday! Not one hair missing....in the flesh. Thank you for this promise.”

“Thank you, thank you, for the sealing ordinances of the temples....that temples dot the entire earth and that even at this very moment husbands and wives are being sealed together forever.....that they never have to say those most awful words...... “til death do we part,” but instead..... “For time and eternity.”

“Thank you, thank you, that children can be sealed to their parents in forever families. I know that my loved ones and I will be together forever.”

“Thank you, thank you, that you’ve promised to ease our grief many times in the scriptures. “Blessed are they that mourn,” you said, “for they shall be comforted.” You know that true comfort will only come on the day I hold them in my arms again. You’ve promised that it will.”

“Thank you, thank you, Father that I know these things are true. Thank you for my faith. Please stay with me through the darkest days of my life and help me to live the rest of it in a way that will make my loved one proud. Let the love we feel for each other continue to bring joy. Do not leave my side, Father, I need thee every hour in order to make it through these days.”

What a difference to the future those answers made! Those whose answers were hope and gratitude instead of despair and bitterness changed lives forever. Those who knew that love is stronger than death were able to go on with their own missions and live beautiful, useful lives.

As I progressed in the gospel I learned some other things about life and death that also helped me.

 

I learned that our lives did not begin here. We were spirit children of our Father in Heaven and lived with Him before this earthly life. We learned eternal truths while there. We kept promises and have a glorious past. We were valiant and faithful. We each chose to come to earth to continue learning and growing. One of the reasons for this was to see if we could live by eternal truths. That’s the testing part. It’s like so many of the things we learn, I think, like driving a car, or swimming, or baking a cake even. You can read about it or listen to someone explain it, they can even show you how it’s done, but you’ll never know if you can do it yourself until you get behind the wheel, or in the water, or start mixing batter. We needed to see if we could apply the truths we’d learned from Father. We needed to know if we could live what we said we believed.

Sorrow, pain and death were not a surprise either. We knew they’d be a part of every single life and yet, even knowing that, we shouted for joy at the prospect of coming to earth.

I learned too that human life has been compared to a three act play. Our life here is the most challenging second act. This is the part where problems and challenges enter and where we prove and define our character. Do we live lives of truth or deceit, faith or disbelief, service or selfishness, laziness or hard work, or a hundred other qualities? We said we believed in Father’s plan before we came here, but now we have the chance to prove that we can indeed live it, sometimes in the midst of great difficulty.

I learned too that those we love and who have died are not floating around with wings on some cloud. They’re recognizable in the spirit and are not far from us here on earth. They’re with many beloved family members and friends busy working, helping and learning. Some may be allowed to assist those they loved who are still here finishing their own missions. They’ve gained important knowledge that will serve them throughout eternity. Heavenly Father loves them dearly as he loves each of those they left behind for a short time. They’ll be waiting for us when we finish up.

I know too that those we love wouldn’t want our deep feelings for them to cause us unbearable sorrow for long. I know they want us to be happy and successful in completing our own missions, whatever they might be.

So, life’s hardest test.

Most of us will take it someday.

It’s important to remember though, that there’s another day that will surely come after that. One of the happiest we’ll ever know.

When it comes for me I’ll see my dad again. I know he’ll  give me one of his big hugs. I hope he’ll say “Hey, brown eyes, you did a pretty good job. There were some really tough times mixed in with the great ones but you made me proud through it all.”

My sincere prayers go to Father on behalf of those who are at this moment in the midst of the hardest test.

I pray that each of them will remember hope. Remember faith. Remember that love is stronger than death. Remember that families are forever. It makes all the difference.

One day you will hold him in your arms again, alive and well. That’s a promise from our Father who loves us more than we can even imagine.

A New Bedspread

There's an old Spanish proverb I posted in my classroom once.

"First we shape our houses. Then they shape us."

And because I remembered that saying I’ve been shopping for a new bedspread. 
And that reminded me of how troublesome men can be. 
And that got me to thinking of how troublesome it is to do the right thing in general. 
So now I need to vent.

I was shopping because our bedspread has issues. It's years old and looking dated to say the least. Even, I hate to admit, a little shabby. 
Because it came in a set and I used one of the smaller pieces to cover a window valance, replacing it means replacing the valance. It's going to be a lot of trouble and work. 
Well, the price of beauty is labor, as they say, and we've been counseled that our homes should be places of beauty, haven't we? 
So.

That inspired counsel given about our homes was certainly not that they be costly, or large, or of any particular style. But that they shouldn't be neglected. No matter where or what, they should be places that reflect intelligence and beauty. In fact, we’re supposed to create homes of such charm and grace that “angels will want to visit and rest there.” I read that somewhere important.

I know that several early Prophets have talked about the subject of our homes and surroundings. I think it was Brigham Young that said when people look at the home of a Saint they should say to themselves, “What a lovely little cottage.” 
So, this must matter to Father.

And if it matters to Father then it should matter to me.

I’d like to do the right thing here but it would be a lot easier for me to accomplish this if my circumstances were different.
There are obstacles, I can tell you. 
Sometimes money for one.
The man I live with definitely for two.

So, here I am. In the middle of the blazing Sonoran desert, in a tiny little house, (tiny by choice but nevertheless) with a shabby bedspread and a troublesome man. 
I’ve been told to create beauty. 
I’m thinking.

While thinking my mind wanders back to a fall day in the center of a Glendale, Arizona barrio. 
I was teaching at the oldest school in the city, one that, sixty or so years ago, I was shocked and dismayed to learn, had been reserved solely for kids who did not qualify as “White Only”. I hadn’t realized there’d been segregated schools in this state. Sadly, I found out, there were.

I was going out to visit the mother of one of my students. I needed her to sign some papers. She had several little ones and couldn’t come in to school herself. This happened a lot. So I drove along the street, passing small houses that were surely built at the same time as the school, looking for the address. I stopped at a house that couldn’t have been more than one room wide.

There was a short chain link fence with a gate in front. It enclosed a tiny yard with a patch of grass that was green and neatly trimmed. All along the fence, vines and flowers were growing in a narrow bed. As I came to the door I saw cleverly disguised tin cans and food containers also filled with growing flowers.You had to look closely to see what the containers were. A large and lovely vine which I recognized as a sweet potato plant, hung from a twine carrier and spilled down gracefully next to the front window. 
I knocked. 
The woman who answered was dressed in a colorful skirt and a clean white blouse. She was carrying a baby on one hip and had a little one grasping her skirts from behind.The small girl clinging to her knees had big dark eyes and pink bows in her braided hair. The woman asked me in.

It was the smallest living room I’d ever seen. It couldn’t have been more than 6 feet wide. 
The room was spotless and filled with light spilling in from the window. The floor was shining cement, the walls were adorned with lovely pictures, landscapes and religious subjects as far as I could tell. Some were in frames, some appeared to be cut from magazines and placed on colorful, lacy paper mats. All were carefully hung in groups to the glowing white walls. The only window sparkled in the sun and that lovely vine could be seen gently moving in the breeze outside. There was a little shelf holding a colorful scarf and a porceline figure on the wall. 
The only furniture was a small loveseat and chair covered with matching throws. A little painted chest stood against the opposite wall. On top of the chest was a television and a vase of the flowers I’d seen outside. Delicious smells came wafting out of the next room which reminded me that it was getting on toward suppertime. 
Without asking she immediately brought me a cold drink. We talked pleasantly, she signed the papers and I left to head back to school.

Well, it’s been many years since I sat in that little home but I’ll never forget the feeling I had when I was there. You could almost touch the peace, the beauty, the creativity and intelligence that dwelt there. The woman who created that home was magnifying her sacred calling. If I were an angel I would love to stop by to visit and rest awhile.

This got me to thinking about another one of my student’s homes.

It was during our mountain years. I was teaching in a wonderful little school in a tiny town with marvelous, down to earth people. It was lunch time. My kids were out in the hall getting ready to go to the cafeteria. A new student had joined our class that morning, a boy from a family just moving from the city. We were all standing in line talking together, waiting for the 4th graders ahead of us to get going. 
My kids, who were always friendly, were talking to the new boy, trying to make him feel at home. I was chatting with some of the girls with half an eye on keeping the line in order. I heard one of my guys ask the new boy where he lived. He told them. 
Someone else said, “Oh, I know where that is. Down at the other end of the street from the “junk house,” right? “Yeah,” some of the other kids chimed in, “That’s where it is. At the other end of the street from the junk house.”

The line started to move. The kids stopped their conversations

My boys didn’t even know that their classmate who lived in the “junkhouse” had heard them. They didn't mean to be cruel.

But I saw the boy's face. What I saw there broke my heart. 
There was shame and embarrassment. Feelings hard for a child to bear. 
But, I prayed silently, not, "I come from the junkhouse so I must be junk." 
Please Father, don't let him think that.

So, creating homes of grace despite our circumstances is important to Father. Order, cleanliness, and beauty might really be next to godliness. Maybe there's something to that old saying, "First we shape our houses, then they shape us

Back to the bedspread.

Gratefully, I have the means to buy a new bedspread. And I even have the grandkids who can climb a ladder and get the old valance down. 
What I don’t have is a husband whose grizzled gray and bearded face looks good under any sort of elegant covering. Every time I think I’ve found a new one (bedspread that is), I imagine his sleeping, snoring face peeking out from under the covers. 
I’ve tried, really tried people, but he just doesn’t match with any type of charming decor!
Some of you may be married to elegant or adorably cute men but mine is the rugged type. He now looks like a mountain man fresh from the hunt. An old one to boot. Burlap or buffalo hides are the only fabrics that come to mind when you gaze at his sleeping face. 
Back when he was younger he used to look like Sean Connery. Then a cross between Sean and Santa Claus. Then just Santa Claus. Now, it’s the mountain man phase. 
I’m not the only one who sees these evolving resemblances either. Once a few years back, in an emergency, I called Sears where he’d gone to buy some shoes. 
I asked for the tool department. I told the girl who answered that I needed to find my husband quick because our son had just called with last minute tickets to the ASU / UofA football game, and they needed to leave in 20 minutes. 
She asked what he looked like. I told her a cross between Sean Connery, Santa Claus and a buffalo. She said she didn’t see him. 
I said “He’s a good kisser.” She replied brightly, “Oh sure, there he is now!”

Yes, men can be troublesome indeed.

Even so, you’ll be happy to know, I am not deterred. 
Thinking about all this has strengthened me. 
I’m off on my quest for a new bedspread. 
And I’m going to try to create beauty by replanting my patio pots with hardy perenials that can perhaps survive in this blast furnace portion of the Lord’s vineyard. 
And I even won’t murmur against those people in San Diego or Flagstaff who have such an easy time creating beauty all around, and don’t appreciate it. 
On the coast I once saw tomato plants and flowers growing wild and tall as your head around the dumpsters behind a McDonalds! Tomatoes were everywhere and desperately needed to be picked. 
I almost had to cuss but “Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s tomato plants” is a rule, I think.

Anyway life is full of obstacles meant to be overcome. I’ll let you know how this one turns out for me.

The Homeless Man was a Test

I have trouble buying presents for people. Others in my family don't have a problem at all. In fact my daughters always give really thoughtful gifts..........just what suits the person most. But not me. I can never think of a thing. Even though I love the recipient dearly I end up wandering around stores, picking up random stuff, carting it around and then putting it back. Well, this last holiday was different. My family just opened their Christmas gifts the first week of June and I think they loved them!

You see, way back before the holidays, Larry and I reserved campsites on the beach just south of Santa Barbara, Ca. for early summer. I figured they all had enough “stuff” so we’d go for memories.  A shell was wrapped for each person with a card enclosed including the dates of the trip. Larry and I couldn’t camp but we managed a couple of days at a nearby hotel close enough for us to visit. We had a wonderful time. The kids went boogie boarding in the ocean and flew kites on the beach. There was a farmers market and nightly campfires, funny little restaurants lined the streets into the campground, and raccoons “as big as great danes!” visited every night. Memories galore! I’ll tell you about three of the gifts I enjoyed giving most.

One of the kids had a little book that gave the times of high and low tides. Carpenteria beach is famous for its wonderful tide pools. One morning around 4:30 an alarm was set and everybody hiked down to the sand at low tide. It was just before dawn so they all took flashlights. I was told later that they saw hundreds of sea creatures in the pools and on the rocks. Huge crabs, starfish and tons of anemones were everywhere. A group of seals had hauled out and lay resting at the edge of the surf just a few feet from where they were exploring. Being desert dwellers I’ll bet they’ll remember that morning for a lot longer than anything I could wrap.

Later in the week our youngest grandson constructed a trap made from a box, a stick, some string, and leftovers. He actually caught a live squirrel! Never mind that it was practically tame or that his mom made him “give it back.”  It’s something I think he’ll remember for a long time.
And then all during their stay our two oldest grandsons went off to explore around the shore, town and woods together. Among many other things, they put coins on the rails of the train tracks that run next to the sea and the lovely beach towns along the California coast. Then they searched for them after the train had passed by. They’ll both turn 18 in less than two years........ just a couple of months apart. I wonder if they’ll carry one of those flattened coins in their pockets as missionaries. I hope they do and that they’ll remember those lovely summer days they spent together in their youth.

So I finally managed to get people gifts I was pleased with. Hurray! I’m already thinking about next Christmas!

It was then that something awful happened though. Something I'll remember for a long time. In the midst of all these precious gifts of family and beauty and plenty, Heavenly Father sent a test. And although usually I’m a good test taker I’m mortified and ashamed to admit that I didn’t do well on this one.

The test came when a homeless man riding a bike and pulling a makeshift trailer came riding up to the campsite. Some of us were sitting around talking while those who had KP were making lunch. He pulled up and said he was collecting cans and asked if we had any empties. He didn’t seem to have the $10 daily parking sticker so he must have snuck in. He was friendly and talkative, though dirty, possibly slightly under the influence, and just a little bit scary. I heard one of the kids whisper something under their breath and I could see discomfort on some faces. In any case someone went for cans and Larry and I struck up a conversation with our visitor. He asked if we might spare him a cold beer. I replied with a smile that we didn’t have even a single one as we were all Mormons.

“Oh, Mormons....... Mormons huh?” he said thoughtfully. “So no cigarettes or coffee right?” he said.

“Yes, and no fooling around either,” I replied. He chuckled.

“We have bottled water or pop though,” someone  called out. He took one.

That’s when I failed part one of the test.

I failed because right then I should have said, “So you know something about Mormons. Would you like to know more? We have a young person  here with us who’s leaving for a mission in just a couple of months. She’d love to talk to you.”

But I didn’t. I thought of it later after he’d gone. Do you suppose if my heart were closer to the Lord I would have remembered sooner? Or maybe I’d have remembered if he were cleaner and well dressed. Later was also when I recalled what the Prophet had only just recently taught, “Look at everyone not as they are at present but as they may become.”                  

And then that’s when I failed part two of the test.

We chatted for a while and as we said goodbye he put out his hand to shake mine. I must have hesitated slightly, (he was so dirty after all!) because I saw Larry quickly hold out his hand to give our visitor a warm shake and wish him a friendly goodbye.

Shame flooded over me immediately.

I watched as he peddled off and wondered guiltily if he was hungry. I went after him to see if he might like some lunch. I caught up to him and asked if he’d like a plate and he said, I’ll be right there.”

That’s when I failed part three.

Worrying that he might become a nuisance or worse I quickly said, “That’s okay, I’ll be happy to bring you a plate.” I went back for the food. Thank heaven my wonderful daughter-in-law jumped up and said “I’m going to invite him to sit down at the table and keep him company while he eats.”

As I watched them, my heart filled with gratitude for Lisa. My wheels won’t go on sand so I couldn’t join them....... though by this time I really wanted to. Instead I sat there and wondered how I managed to get this old and still need so much work.  What do the scriptures say? Something about “When did I visit you?” My heart sinks to know that someday Jesus will tell me that he did indeed visit me once. “Why I was that homeless man at the campground. Didn’t you recognize me?”

Later I read this in Matthew 25: 43-45;

“I was a stranger and ye took me not in: naked and ye clothed me not: sick and in prison, and ye visited me not.”

Then shall they also answer him, saying, “Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister unto thee?”

Then shall he answer them, saying, “Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me.”

So, I didn’t recognize the homeless man riding his bike and pulling a homemade trailer when he came riding up to our campsite. And because I didn’t know who it was I didn’t do well on one of the most important tests in life. I forgot that no matter who it is.... it’s always really the Savior. He said so didn’t He?

Sure, I was friendly and polite and made sure that he had food and water. But I didn’t think to offer him the most precious thing I’ll ever have when I had a chance to offer it.....the truth about the greatest gift ever given. Even though our tents were overflowing with blessings and gifts more valuable than all the riches on earth, I never offered them to him when I so easily could have. He was given the empty cans he asked for but then I hesitated to take his hand in mine. If the scriptures are true then I hesitated to take Christ’s hand in mine! (I can’t tell you how hard that sentence is for me to write!) I didn’t invite the Lord to sit at the family table to have friendship along with food because I was afraid and worried he’d become a nuisance and upset my family.

I gave what I had that was least important and didn’t offer that which was priceless even though it was freely given to me, and at a sacrifice I can barely understand.

I know that Heavenly Father loves me but I fear that right now He may be as bitterly disappointed in me as I am in myself.

All I can say is may God please forgive me! May the Savior forgive me! I’m truly sorry and I promise to do better if I get another chance!  Please....please...... just give me another chance! Thank heaven’s for repentance. It seems that just when we think we’re old enough to know better it turns out that what we know and what we do still doesn’t always match up. Even at my age.

As for the rest of my family I don’t know how they did on the test. I saw some of them get cans and water and prepare a plate of food. I saw some offer their hand and true companionship too. But only they and the Lord know what was in their hearts, and that’s really all that matters. I hope they did better than their mother and grandmother that’s for sure.

And I pray that all of us will pass every single “heart test” that Father sends in the future.

MZ Dub's Summer List

     

Summer's here. Depending on where you live, that makes you extraordinarily happy or a little depressed.
Also, whether you're a student freed for a few precious weeks, or a parent coping with that freedom may affect how you see it too.

In our "mountain" years summer was glorious. Fling the doors and windows open glorious!

In the Sonoran desert, it's the start of the "pull the shades, crank up the AC, hunker down, stay inside or die" season. Kind of like winter in Minnesota only opposite.
Yeah, yeah, I know.....it's a dry heat. Well, I'm no rookie..... I was born here.... but when it gets above 115 and I can't touch the steering wheel without getting second degree burns, it's too darn hot, no matter what the chamber of commerce says. Thank God it only lasts four months.
Thank God too for sparing us hurricanes, floods, tornadoes and earthquakes. I guess hellfire and duststorms could be worse. I should count my blessings.

Then again, as I'm counting, my heart drifts back to the mountains.
Mornings are always cool and green no matter the month.  But, June afternoons are hot enough to make you want to wiggle your feet in Horton or Tonto creeks, just off the Rim. We did just that more times than I can count. On the way to Saturday shopping, before they built the new highway, we almost always took a detour off on Apple Lane in Christopher Creek so we could open the car doors to dangle our fingers in the clear, cold stream where it crossed the road over the little cement ford. Sometimes, too, we'd take the turnoff to the fish hatchery, the road winding alongside Tonto creek, berry bushes growing along it's banks and my favorite flower, yellow Columbines, standing delicately in the shade close to the water.

I think the smell of a mountain creek is one of the most restoring in life. It ranks right up there with a clean baby's fuzzy head or Sunday supper in the oven when you get home from church.
Rain's another one of those soul satisfying smells isn't it? I can't remember the last time it rained down here in the west valley of the relentless sun. But, when it does, I'll admit nothing quite compares to the smell of wet mesquite.

On the mountain in mid July and August, billowing thunderclouds brought rain every day with a rainbow promise when the showers cleared.

Yes, summer's the season of freedom and possibilities. No matter where you live.

And yet, I was always surprised when school started each fall at how many kids were actually glad to see it end. "Really? Why, for heaven's sake?" I asked them. "You guys couldn't wait to get out of here in June."

Well, it turns out that endless leisure is hard to handle. Yes, uselessness becomes a burden after a bit. Who knew?
Well, Heavenly Father for one.
We've been taught by our leaders that we should always, "Be anxiously engaged in a good cause."  I actually put that on the wall of my classroom.
Why?  What's wrong with a little laziness? Sometimes I like it, personally.
Well, what's wrong is that too much "disengagement" leads to unhappiness. Do nothing worthwhile for too long and pretty soon you start to feel worthless. (It makes me a little sad, though.)

So, a good cause. Anxiously engaged too. Even in summer.

That leaves a whole lot of room for personal choice doesn't it?
Can lounging around in pajamas watching TV be a good cause?   Well, maybe, I think.
If you've been toiling for days to build a barn or study for the bar exam and every muscle including the one in your brain is aching, then that might be a way to sharpen the saw. But if you've been lounging for days in those pj's like some kids tend to do along about the end of July then........no.

Remember, an eternal principle is involved here. You just can't be lazy and useless for long and still be happy. Sorry.
People think they'd love to have no work to do and life be just one long vacation, but it turns out that road eventually leads to misery. Just look around at the celebrity news.

My daughter once told one of her high school students who was struggling with work ethics among other things, "You can't do wrong, Brandon, and feel right. It's a rule." Indeed it is.

That "anxiously engaged" thing really is an eternal principle.
And sharpening the saw dulled from lots of hard use counts as a good cause. Thank heaven's "sharpening" leaves room for lots of fun after the work's done!
As a matter of fact, I love that "sharpening the saw' thing.  Think of the possibilities!  It's one of my favorites.

So, in an attempt to assist my students through the long, hot, summer I started to give them "Mz. Dub's Summer List" on the last day of school.  It was for whenever they were tempted to sing the dreaded "I"m bored" song. That song often leads to being in PJ's at high noon. That's not the anxiously engaged attire.

Here's a part of the list. Give it to a kid in need.

• Paint a room
• Learn how to change a tire
• Get a new hairstyle 
• Make a fancy salad for tonight's dinner 
• Wash your car (Or your mom's car. Or the dog, or the laundry, or your hair.)
• Play Monopoly with your little brother
• Go to the church website and do some "indexing" for genealogy purposes.
• Read
• Clean out your drawers or closet
• Study the scriptures
• Watch a video on LDS.org
• Learn how to make enchiladas. (Or the best pancakes on the planet)
• Put emergency supplies in your trunk
• Update a 72 hour emergency kit for your family
• Rebuild an engine
• Wax the car
• Go through your closet and donate stuff you don't need.
• Clean the bathroom
• Pray
• Play tennis at night
• Swim laps  
• Learn a magic trick
• Ride a bike
• Go to the library
• Learn to drive
• Write a movie script
• Learn to fix something
• Build a shelf
• Practice playing an instrument
• Teach someone to sing or ask someone to teach you.
• Do yard work
• Plant something
• Do some housework
• Write or email a missionary
• Call your grandma
• Do a favor for your neighbor. (or everyone in your family)
• Get a job
• Go to "Khan Academy" on the computer and brush up on geometry or history with the mini-lessons.
• Vacuum the house 
• Go through the sofa cushions and find all the change. Buy dessert for the family. 
• Sew a t-shirt
• Paint or draw
• Lift weights if you're a girl
• Do yoga if you're a boy
• Redecorate your room on a shoestring budget
• Walk the dog. Feed the cat.
• Write a poem for your girlfriend
• Write a song for your boyfriend
• Start a band
• Start a team
• Invite friends over for a BBQ. You cook.
• Talk to your dad
• Take your mom out for ice cream
• Sell stuff on Ebay
• Open a savings account

The list could go on forever. In any case the people who have happy lives are probably anxiously engaged in something good most of the time. Try it and see.

Dear Friends,

I know it's been several months since I last wrote. You see, my computer died and I had to save up for a new one. Then I had to figure out how to make the darn thing work.
I posted this last entry without the help of my daughters who are too busy to mess with my scribblings anyway. It didn't transfer the correct spacing but WOOHOO! anyway.  It looks like it went sailing out into cyberspace and landed in the right space. Who knew? Apparently what they say about old dogs isn't always true.

I'm going to try doing this by myself from now on so it probably won't be pretty. Especially the spacing part.

Bear with me because my thoughts come to you with heartfelt prayers for your eternal happiness and all my love.

As always,

Kathy Wagher
(Aka Mrs. Wagher, Miss W., or Mzz Dub)