Motivation to Do - Processing is Tuff -

I came upon this thought today -
"Doing things we don't want to do, or that scare us, creates flow in our lives and allows us to grow."

I wonder - does this mean tasks such as laundry and leg shaving; crucial conversations such as saying "no" or being assertive; self-care - exercise, planning meals ahead of time; creating business plans and presenting them to corporate, or simply moving forward or perhaps simply being?

Or is it as basic as having that one thing in our lives that never makes it to our list because it's too scary to even mention?

I'm a doer; I do not like having "to do's" hanging around me; I don't like having things undone. And yet I'm wondering if this really means, at least for me - the major "thing" I don't do is take the time to stop and reflect. That's what I put off doing; I put off processing. I've certainly felt that these past 2 months as I reached out for this job, was rejected, and then just moving on - I did what scared me, I felt discounted, and honestly, there is no flow to grow.

When I had children at home, and somehow had time to create, I'd finish a project, hang it up, put it on a shelf, and move on to the next task at hand. And one day I realized I didn't take the time to appreciate my own handiwork. I put the kids' art work on display, applauded my husband for a job well-done, but didn't glory in my own works. So I made a plan to put my piece in a spot where I would see it for several days before placing it in its designated home. This became my time to do something that really did scare me - acknowledge myself.

These days, my crafts are more emotional than physical. I read a book, put it up, open another. I finish a task, fix dinner. I exercise, hop in the shower. I'm finding I don't take the time to feel, to savor, to enjoy. If I want to really grow, it has to include processing time. It's a scary unknown place for me to go, yet I do want to grow. I hate this stuck - and somehow, this event, which really should be in the past, keeps coming forward, and I keep being reminded that I "lost." And I need to process what has happened - that's the doing what scares me, so that I can move forward.

That's what I've been avoiding - plus shaving my legs!

This is Us -

Yesterday we drove up Provo Canyon, over to Cascade Springs, then through the Alpine Loop to American Fork Canyon for a picnic in one of the most beautiful spots in all of Utah.

If you're lucky enough to live in the mountains, you're lucky enough.

 

Pioneer Heritage -

Many thanks to my sister, Maria, for these stories: 

JULIETTE FACKRELL HOWARD

Juliette Fackrell Howard was born January 19,1849 at Millville, Jo Davis Co., Illinois to Joseph Crumb and Clarissa Dempsey Fackrell.  She was the 3rd child in a family of 14. She was about 4 years old at the time they made the journey by covered wagon to Utah.

At the age of 8 years, she accompanied her family in the move south when the Johnson's Army came to drive the people out. She suffered many hardships. Food was so scarce their meal often consisted of a small baked potato or one spoonful of bran mush. Juliette and her sister had one pair of shoes, taking turns in wearing them. Her father made their shoes whenever he was able to obtain a hide to make leather. She attended school in West Bountiful. When she was 12, Juliette washed the wool, dyed the yarn and wove cloth for her own and her sister's clothing. Her children remember her braiding hats in seven strands of straw. She was an expert at needle work and knitting.

She met James Howard and married him on April 19, 1869 in the old Endowment House. They were married by Joseph F. Smith. Her sister, Betsy Jane, was married to James' brother, William, the same day. Soon after her marriage her brothers and sisters took sick with black measles. Her mother nursed them back to health and being in delicate health, contracted the disease and died July 5, 1869, leaving a large family. In addition to her own family, Juliette later took two of her mother's children and raised them to manhood and womanhood.

She was blessed with an outstanding personality, cheerful disposition, and a keen sense of humor. Her eyes were blue, she had light brown hair and was small of stature like her mother. She obeyed cheerfully and promptly because she was just. She was

queen in her own home, her authority never being questioned.  Her home was always open to neighbors and friends she was especially kind and thoughtful to children. There was always delicious cookies and candy for them. Juliette was also famed for her Christmas Pudding and stuffed fowls.

In 1889, Juliette's husband was called on a mission to England and it

was necessary for her to take charge of the milk and farm business including a large family and the hired men.

One of her greatest trials was the loss of her son, Joseph, who died at the age of 22. He was a promising young man and was ordained a seventy just two weeks before his death. He also had books purchased to attend the University of Utah that fall. She had lost two other sons in their infancy and also a daughter 32 years old.  Juliette was a resident of South Bountiful Ward for 54 years. She was a counselor in the YLM1A from 1880 to 1888 and served as a Relief Society teacher until her death.  Her chances for education were limited. She gave her children the privileges she was deprived of. With the exception of one, all of her children studied music. Four of her daughters being organists at different periods in the South Bountiful Ward.

On Saturday, April 19, 1919, James and Juliette celebrated their Golden Wedding Anniversary at their home where many of their friends called and wished them happiness on a half a century of married life.

She died March 2, 1924 at South Bountiful, Utah in the home which was the birthplace of her children around which clung so many happy memories.

This history was written by Matilda Ann Howard Johnson,

daughter of Juliette Fackrell Howard, March, 1942.

After Juliette's death the following sketch of her life was found: My father, Joseph C. Fackrell, Mother, Clarissa Dempsey. Father of English descent. Mother of Irish descent. They were naturally of a religious nature. My Mother, a Methodist, was born in Illinois, Jo Davis County near Springfield, in 1849. When five years old, I came with my parents to Utah in 1852. Settled in Bountiful for a short time and then moved to Farmington, Utah. I lived there five years. Again we moved to Bountiful in which place I have lived ever since. I became the wife of James Howard in 1869 in the Endowment House .in Salt Lake City and £rom that union 12 children were born to gladden our days.

I have passed through the shifting scenes of the saints. Moving out with my parents in 1859, while Johnston's Army passed through, which proved a blessing to the people as they were so destitute for clothing and as there was no money or any way to obtain clothing when they moved away, they left a great deal which was a great benefit to the people and in 1884 my husband married Betsy Jane Howard. From that union a daughter was born. We are happy and have been blessed and prospered in many ways.

My education has been limited as the opportunity of gaining an education was almost impossible in those days.

The thing that has most influenced my life was to be exemplary in all things and to raise a posterity that would be a credit to us. Which has been verified. We have been active workers in the Church of Jesus Christ all our lives and hope to continue to be the remainder of my days.

Self-Talk - Getting Back to Center -

The Untethered Soul: The Journey Beyond Yourself, by Michael Singer, pulls me back to center again and again. Well, that and time in the mountains. I've been fortunate to have the mountains and Singer with me these past few days. I know what I need, I know what I want, and yet sometimes it's easier to wallow in self-doubt than it is to turn toward truth.

Time in the mountains with pines and quakies with clean air and minimal traffic forces me to look and listen - the mountains pull me to the present, and there I clear my mind.

Time with Singer, nudges me to let go, untether my soul from doubts and negative self-talk, and humbly look toward my truth. Which is where my authenticity lies, and where my soul speaks clearly.

"Our thoughts are like rumors in the wind. They might be true, but then again, they might not be." 

"Instead of confronting the mind's rumor mill with logic and 'positive thinking,' it makes far more sense to step outside of the endless cycle and just watch the thoughts unfold in all their fevered beauty. But this can be difficult. If you look closely at the 'rumors' that start washing around the mind when you feel stress, you'll see how much a part of you they really appear to be. They carry quite a punch and may be central to what you believe about yourself and the situation in which you find yourself." 

Besides the bullet points, "When we feel stressed and life is frantic, thoughts like these often feel like the absolute truth about us and the world. But they are, in fact, symptoms of stress, just as a high temperature is a symptom of flu."

"Becoming aware that these thoughts are symptoms of stress and exhaustion, rather than facts that must be true, allows you to step back from them. And this grants you the space to decide whether to take them seriously or not. In time, through mindfulness practice, you can learn to notice them, acknowledge their presence and let them go." 

A Peaceful Week - and Ryan Shupe -

After a strange semi-shitty 2 months, this past week has been a great reprieve. I cannot stand still - stagnation is my worst nightmare, so standing and waiting and wondering has been a huge trial for me. And yet - it's over, and I can MOVE! Move forward, and I have - I can't change the past; I've had to process the decisions made, yet even then I will not hold the past or wish for something different, or even carry a grudge - I'd rather carry something much lighter.

So this week has been about picking up goodness wherever I've wandered and then carrying it into my days.

And it's been a good peaceful week, and I'm happy, and I feel brighter, hopeful, and present.

A cute new video - Ryan Shupe and the Rubberband were one of my family's first loves when coming to Utah, and we've had the privilege of calling each other friends over the years. He's waxed and waned, yet this tune - makes me smile, reminds me of today. Enjoy -

Finished with my Ranting - The Good Kind of Unraveling -

Betrayed, Deceived, and Letting Go -

This past 2 months has been an internal hell for me. For the past 5 years I was led to believe I would be the hospital chaplain when the chaplain retired. The chaplain would suggest ways to improve my standing with the caregivers in the hospital, with administrators, how to improve my chaplaincy skills, and projects to take on that would make me more visible and viable. And I bit - including covering for him every chance I got, to gain experience - including a 3+ month stint as full-time and Palliative Care chaplain during the most tumultuous time at the hospital this fall and winter.

And I aced it! And I was so damn gullible. You see - I made his dreams come true. I did his work. I didn't necessarily do this to climb the ladder, but to please him and to keep him in a job - covering his butt when he was too complacent to do what really needed to be done with chaplaincy at the hospital - the only hospital in the Intermountain system to have a full-time chaplain.

My list of things I co-dependently did is long, and I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say that I rocked, and caregivers at the hospital saw that and reached out to me rather than to him when they needed assistance.

The chaplain fed me the line, and I bit, that when he retired in May of 2020 I would be able to slip into his role without a hiccup. And then 10 weeks ago he gave his notice, 12 months ahead of schedule (and it wasn't a surprise).

So 3 days before heading to Scotland I submitted a beautiful resume, cover-letter, and references, because, yes, I would have to apply, "but it's just a formality."

I even ended up having a Skype interview while in Inverness! And I waited and waited and waited - the job was offered to 3 people, all turning it down, while I still received emails telling me I was still in the running. The few folks at the hospital who knew the chaplain had left were asking me why I didn't have the job - and I didn't have an answer.

The unknown has been nearly unbearable at times. This "possibility" has been a part of my life - during the entire Scotland trip, coming home, and keeping my job going in Palliative Care, while also, now, covering for emergencies at the hospital - because no chaplain was hired, until - Thursday afternoon at 5pm. I received a form e-mail thanking me for my application, my patience, admiring the hard work that I do, saying I was one of the best, but they had chosen someone else.

Shit, damn, hell, and the big F word. Betrayed, deceived? Yes. And I allowed myself to be the damn fool who all these 5 years allowed myself to believe a dreamer who only knew how to dream, not how to implement. I've been here before, and I thought I could see an element of truth in his words, but just like my past, it was all BS, and I was the one designated as the actor - action'er. I am disappointed in myself - and yet - I have learned so very much about chaplaincy and big business. 'Git 'er dun Ronda - that's me!

So - a white, Mormon, male, with little hospital experience (not the 5 years required on the app) is hired. And I will be working with him, and he will most likely be a part of our chaplain chapter, and I will need to let go of my angst to be a colleague -  but I'll be damned if I'm going to train him and show him the ropes. His "boss," another of the people I feel double-crossed by, can manage him.

I am grateful, beyond words, that I have a job, a profession, that I love. And I am the only one who can do what I do - and this has been emphasized over and over again these past 8 weeks. Palliative Care is where I belong - where I have a team, where I have autonomy, and where I can grow.

Today, while perusing my Pinterest posts, which I seldom do, I had received a message from a friend, quite some time ago, but just seeing it now, which is exactly when I needed these words of advice.

Gotta let the shit go -

Eternal Vigilance - If at First You Don't Succeed -

I discovered John O'Donohue a few weeks ago. What a man and a story. He was determined to live his truth, and his legacy lives on in his writings - religious and environmental, his contribution to Gaelic thought, and his poetry.

As I was listening to a podcast from 2007 (he died in 2008 at 52), he said, "Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty." I just happened to be listening to this on July 2, and of course, thinking of Independence Day.

And yet -

I have been thinking about how tough life is - of course it's beautiful, but even that beauty takes work, and vigilance.

Since cancer - I've worked hard every single day to become healthy and stay healthy. I let my guard down and there is a price to pay.

And my career right now - I'm working hard to stay patient, to stay the course, to be innovative while also being a member of a grand team.

I see folks who surrender to poor health, give in to their anger, resign to never being the same. And they lose their freedom - the liberty they would have to be alive! And yes - being eternally vigilant appears to take a hyper-awareness mindset, yet that is the price that is often needed to sustain the freedom, the liberty and is hard won and hard fought for.

If I let my guard down (doesn't mean I don't have fun), then I lose the freedom I have worked so hard to acquire. I can't do this.

And so I am vigilant with myself, I am stealthily aware of my faults, my weakness, and the areas where I need to spend time refining, every single day.

Me vigilantly caring for my liberty. 

https://spheresofcuteness.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/owl-pair-wide.jpg

Childhood Affects Adulthood - A Need to Belong -

On the website BoredPanda a few days ago, there was a thread about "Childhood Stories that Best Explain the type of Person they are Now." I found it quite funny and quite telling. I appreciated those who had really thought through their childhoods and were able to critically apply these events to their adulthood.

It caused me to think about mine. And - my childhood event that continues to affect me today is that of belonging.

As the oldest child and grandchild, I stood apart; I was different; I was the other. I was 7 years younger than my aunt and 5 years older than my closest cousin, who lived a few hundred miles away. At family gatherings I did not belong.

In fourth grade there was a group of girls who were the popular ones. I remember wanting to be a part of their group. The had an application process - write a letter telling why you wanted to be with them, what you could do for them, and submit it. They would get back to the applicant. I was rejected.

In fifth grade Mrs. Gooch, the teacher who paved my path, upon examining my handwriting, which looked just like the handwriting of a girl a year older than me (and someone I wanted to be like) told me, "You are trying to be like someone you aren't. Just be you."

Between probably my fourth grade years and my sixth grade years I looked up to my babysitters. I wanted my aunt to love me and embrace me, but since she didn't, I looked to those her age for that acceptance. I even wrote letters to two of these girls asking them if I could adopt them as my big sister. I have a copy of one letter and reading it one day, as an adult with grandchildren, made me very sad for this lonely girl.

So - I professed that no one would ever have to feel like I felt. And I reached out to others, but to some extent, kept part of myself alone.

An interesting predicament these past two months, and the prompt of this website, made me reexamine my need to belong.

For the first time as an adult, I am part of a team with peers. I am not their leader, not their teacher, not their mentor, not their boss, but a member of a group. We work together; we share; we laugh; we compliment; we collaborate, and for the first time in my life (not talking marriage), I belong.

Yet in many ways I'm still searching for a place to belong - in so many areas of my life, that finally belonging to a bundle of amazing people is exhilarating and awkward - I don't know if I know how to belong!

A possible opportunity has come along where my strengths can be used to create an amazing program, and as much as I know I can excel at managing, developing, creating, supervising, teaching, I will be doing this a step-away from others; I will not have a team, I will manage the team.

I really love the team I'm apart of, and I really love the me who can create and manage a team, and I am just about ready to say "no," to the possibility of not-belonging. And yet - if my weaknesses have been honed to become my strengths, then perhaps I need to stand-alone once again, and make sure everyone I work with belongs.

http://www.greenwichworkshop.com/details/default.asp?p=2444&a=16&t=4&page=2&detailtype=artist

Missing My Dad -

My father died 3 years ago today. Gosh I miss him -

After becoming his neighbor, he would shuffle over to our home around 7:30 am, knock on the back door, or more often than not, open the door, step inside and holler, "Are you dressed?" as he continued into the kitchen. More often than not, I was getting ready for the day, and not dressed. Eventually I learned to keep the door locked, but he'd pound until Scott or I answered. As he aged he would continue with this journey in the morning, but now we could hear the shuffle of the tennis balls and plastic wheels on his walker - good warning. I miss this.

When I had cancer he'd come over during the day to visit. He said to me, "I don't know what I can do for you, but I can be available for you." Just his presence was a gift, and the fact that he didn't shy away from me while I was in pain was very endearing and typical Dad. He was always available - when I was a child and as an adult. I miss this.

I've had a couple of stressful months (career-wise). I liked to talk to him when he had his "boss" hat on. He listened objectively and gave good advice. I didn't always follow his suggestions, but I listened and learned. There have been many times when I have wanted his ear and his thoughts. I miss this.

After Dad retired from his restaurant jobs, he took up Dutch Oven cooking and woodworking. Both of which he excelled at - winning prizes for his cooking and winning hearts and buyers with his woodworking. He had a "can-do" attitude, and he definitely had this same attitude for his kids. He pushed us to excel, and he was the prime example of taking an idea and making it into something tangible. I miss this.

And with this, Dad spent hours a day in his workshop with his lathe or saws going, and his generator running. Living next door, I heard the hum from his generator all day, and sometimes into the night. If he remembered, he'd turn it off before ending his day, but there were plenty of times that I'd hear this sound into the night. And in the mornings, he'd turn this on first thing, and this became a sign, to me, that he was up and he had projects on his mind. I'd get a call or two during the day, or a knock on the door, "I need you to look at this." The lack of sound is more apparent these days than that rumble or ring ever was. I miss this.

My dad was an "experimenter." Whether this was a recipe, a wood-turning idea, or a gardening experiment, he enjoyed trying something new. He often created a new recipe from the goods growing in his garden, and he'd bring it over for me to taste. Dang, his peach/basil salsa, his watermelon salsa, his sweet and sour stir fry that was so sweet - I miss this.

Dad loved color, and this time of year this was apparent in the beautiful roses and flower beds. As time marched on and his health failed, he still could be seen pruning his roses. He wanted bright, big, balanced, pruned and sculpted. I miss this.

These days I have silent conversations with him - asking questions, giving thanks, and repeating back to myself his words of advice, concern, and love. And I hear him -