DAY 11 - SEARCHING FOR THAT MOMENT

The other day I got a quote entitled "Dignity" from Natalie Ficklin-Holliday, and it really resonated with me. But I decided to rewrite it to fit me a little bit better. It’s all about Dignity being the moment you come to certain realizations – and I decided that I really wanted to find THAT moment.

1. The moment you realize that the person you cared for has nothing intellectually or spiritually to offer you, and you can follow any intellectual or spiritual path you choose.

2. The moment you realize God has greater plans – and you need to do more with your evenings than sitting around crying at night or pinning sad Pinterest quotes.

3. The moment you stop comparing yourself to others (especially the "Other Woman"), because it undermines your worth. He didn’t choose “Her” over you – he choose Sin over Righteousness.

4. The moment you live your dreams – not because of what it will prove or get you, but because that is all you want to do.

5. The moment you realize that no one is your enemy, and the only person you have to be better than is the person you were yesterday.

6. The moment you realize that you can have everything you want in life. However, it takes work, timing, the right heart, the right actions, the right passion, and a willingness to risk it all. 

7. The moment you realize the spirits of your ancestors stood between you and the person you loved. They still care about you and love you enough to prevent you from spending your life with someone that acts anything less than honorable.

8. The moment you realize that happiness was never about being with another person. The whole point of marriage is to have a helpmate towards achieving your life’s mission – but you can achieve your life’s mission alone too. It’s YOUR life’s mission.

9. The moment you believe that love is not about the other person. Love is within yourself and something you give freely. Sometimes you have someone special to give that love to, and other times you have lots of people to share that love with. Love is about Giving Love.

10. The moment you realize that you were always the right person. That it didn’t work out isn’t your fault – and he only tried to blame you because he was so consumed with guilt for his betrayal. Marriage is a commitment between two people. When one person turns his back on the marriage, he is the one at fault. You can’t make it work when he is unwilling to try – letting go is the only option you have.

   I thought that’s what I was building up to with the 83-day plan, to get to THAT moment. That amazing moment when the stars will align, angels will sing, and I will understand why everything happened. I wanted that Perfect Lightbulb Moment.

   And that’s when I realized it’s not just ONE moment, but a string of moments. Some of these moments I’ve had. Some I’m searching for on this 83-day journey. Some of them may never come.

   But I have had moments, some great moments. And the best part of this 83-day Plan is that I stop at the end of each day to reflect on the day, and see what moments I had today. And that’s the moment I had today: the moment I learned to see the beauty of moments.

I believe everyday should have 

at least one exquisite moment.

-- Audrey Hepburn

DAY 10 - I LOVE TO SEE THE TEMPLE, ESPECIALLY FROM THE INSIDE

When I got engaged on my 29th birthday, part of marrying him meant giving up the temple. It was only supposed to be for one-year, but it turned into 18-years of not having the temple in my life – and I missed it, I longed for it. After the divorce, one of my first things was to get a Temple Recommend again. On my 47th birthday, exactly 18-years to-the-day since I had given up the temple, I went back – and ten cherished family and friends were there with me for that first session back.

   I have never lived more than 15 minutes from a temple. Even growing up in Oakland, the Oakland Temple was also our Ward Building. But for 18 years I didn’t set foot inside a temple. I knew that’s how things had to be then, but I get to live a different life now – and I choose to live a life that includes going to the temple every month. And so far, even with my crazy travel schedule, I get to the temple almost every month. 

   And I don’t say that to brag, but to share the importance of the temple to me. I know what it’s like to not have the temple in my life, and I know that I am happier this way. Don’t ever find out for yourself – just take my word on that one. And go every month, so you never get out of the habit of going. It’s too important to lose, and it’s too easy to take for granted.

   So today I went to the temple with my Temple Buddy, Kaye Nelson. Although she’s a temple worker AND goes regularly with her husband, she makes time to attend with me every month too. We’ve had some great experiences attending together, and attending the temple is a beautiful thing to share. To share with family, like when I was 6-months-old and was sealed to my parents. With friends, like Kaye today. And one day with a life companion that will not only promise to be sealed to me for eternity, but will follow-through on that promise.

The way you feel in the temple 

is a pattern for how you want to 

feel in your life. 

-- Elder Neil L. Andersen

DAY 9 - RAINDROPS KEEP FALLING ON MY HEAD

Today as the dark clouds gathered, and everyone else changed their plans to spend the afternoon indoors – I couldn't get outside fast enough. I love the rain!

   I grew up in the San Francisco Bay area, where it rained all the time when I was a kid. I remember having a yellow slicker, matching pink rain boots, and more umbrellas than I can begin to count. I was always losing umbrellas, and to this day I still hate umbrellas. I don't even think I own one anymore.

   The rain reminds me of being a kid. Taking my time walking home in the rain, and arriving home soaking wet – jumping in every puddle on the way home (which, of course, I denied to my mother). Even this afternoon, although I am certainly not a kid anymore, I went to the schoolyard and re-lived my Puddle Jumping days. Sure, I got a few strange looks – and I'm sure there were a few frustrated mothers trying to explain to their children why NOT to do that – but I didn't care. I jumped and jumped and splashed in those glorious puddles.

   A neighbor, Kristine Baird, saw me out in the rain – and generously offered me a ride home. I'm sure she thinks I'm crazy, and her kids in the backseat too, but being out in the rainstorm was exactly where I wanted to be – and I wasn’t going to cheat myself out of even a minute of it. So I politely declined, and watched her cute confused look as she drove away.

   Then there's the smell of the rain. That indescribable scent during a rainstorm – there's nothing like it. And the feel of the rain on my skin, my eyelashes fluttering as the drops are brushed away. And how soft my hair feels after being drenched in rain water. After the rain everything smells clean and fresh. The world feels clean and fresh. I feel clean and fresh.

   It's a great feeling. Like crawling into clean sheets at the end of a long day. Or going to the temple to do baptisms. Or being crazy enough to go for a walk in the rain without an umbrella.

   After a rough day at work, where all of your hard work gets picked apart. Or a few days at home all alone without any human contact. Or a few months of beating yourself up over being treated like crap by the one person that promised to love you forever. Yes, there are times that a cleansing rain cleanses the soul too. Standing out in the rain, letting each drop wash away the hurt and pain, the sadness and frustration, the heartache and betrayal. And after the storms of life, sometimes my soul needs a good burst of rain too. And hopefully tomorrow, a rainbow.

   But the best part about walking in the rain, is that with raindrops streaming down your face no one can see your tears.

The rain falls because the sky can 

no longer handle its heavyness. 

Just like the tears fall because the heart can 

no longer handle the pain.

DAY 8 - CHURCH ISN'T JUST FOR SUNDAYS

I am a Mormon – born and raised. Some people think that Mormons going to church for 3-hours every Sunday is a bit excessive. But the truth is that it’s even more than that – some weeks a lot more.

   Saturday night my ward did a Dutch Oven Dinner. About 250 people came and for a few hours we ate, visited, laughed -- and it was great. Sunday was 3-hours of church, more visiting, etc.

   Monday was Family Home Evening for the Empty-Nesters. This group is mostly retired and includes people from all walks of life – and is an educated, loving, feisty, kind-hearted group of seniors that I truly adore.

   Tuesday evening is a Relief Society Social. Although I’m sure there will be a message, and probably fabulous food, I’m guessing “social” will probably take most of the time. It’s THAT kind of a ward.

   Some of my friends might think that getting together for something “churchy” 4 days in a row is excessive. Some people don’t even go once a week. Some don’t go to church at all.

   But it’s not about being “churchy” – in fact, very little of it has anything really to do with “Pure Religion”. But it is about Christianity, because in its purest sense it really should be about Christ – and this is. Oh, not in some “sermon-y” way – but in that these lovely people truly do represent Christ. They genuinely care about each other, and they demonstrate love in the simplest and smallest of acts – done constantly, because that is truly their nature.

   Ward Family really is the best way to describe it, because these people are truly like family. They greet me with a hug, ask how I am doing because they genuinely care, and I know that I could turn to any of them for anything at any time.

   Four days in a row might be too much church-stuff for some, but I am glad that this church stuff happens on more than just Sunday – because I need Christlike people in my life far more than once a week.

The church is not a place where 
perfect people gather to say perfect things, 
or have perfect thoughts, or have perfect feelings. 
The church is a place where 
imperfect people gather to provide 
encouragement, support, and service 
to each other as we press on in our journey 
to return to our Heavenly Father.

 -- Joseph B. Wirthlin

DAY 7 - FAST SUNDAYS AREN'T SLOW ENOUGH

I love Fast Sundays. I even usually cook something special for dinner (and I very rarely cook). Late Saturday I run to the store, typically running into a few neighbors also grabbing a few last-minute Saturday night groceries. As I put the food away at home, I also put away the bananas and other foods that are too easy to grab without thinking the next morning.

   And I almost always choose a purpose for my Fast – a friend or loved-one who is struggling or suffering; an answer to a question within myself; a communal purpose (like a Ward Fast). And most often, there is more than one focus – because there is an awful lot of sorrow going on in this world.

   There is a tender and caring bond created when you Fast for someone. Fasting is a truly selfless act – a pouring-out of your heart to the Lord for the succor of another of God’s children. No praise, no recompense – just love. It draws you closer in concern and compassion toward them from the simple act of Fasting and Praying on their behalf.

   Admittedly, lately much of my fasting has included things weighing on my own mind and heart – in a search for peace and for answers. A few months ago I was so tormented with heartache, betrayal, and loss that I couldn’t even find words to pray. As I knelt at my bedside each night, words refused to come – so I just knelt there and cried. I figure God knows my heart and could feel the pain that I still do not know words to effectively describe.

   And I fasted. I fasted a lot, sometimes for days at a time. Even weeks later I fasted every single Sunday, because I was still so struggling for understanding. The questions “Why me?” and “Why this?” echoed over and over in my mind – all day long, and all night too. Eventually I gave up the search for understanding – because I’m not sure I will ever understand, at least in this life – and I decided to just pray for Peace. All I wanted was for the heartache to go away and to be filled with a sense of Peace.

   Fasting & Prayer. I’ve been taught about it all my life, but it is at times of greatest challenge that the true power of turning your troubles over to God is truly learned. And while praying daily has tremendous power, the combination of Fasting and Prayer has significant Spiritual Power to help overcome the greatest challenges in our lives. There is a Humbling Before God that takes place with Fasting that gives our Prayers power beyond measure. 

   And on Sundays, especially Fast Sundays – is when I make the time to slow down. It is impossible to hear God’s Voice if the sounds of the world are constantly in your ears. So I leave the tv and radio turned off. And I sit. I write. I play the piano. I go for a walk in the beautiful nature that God has created for us. And I allow myself time to be alone with my thoughts and alone with my Savior. And as I do, thoughts enter my mind and a Confirming Peace enters my heart – and little by little I have learned some of the answers. And it is in the Slowing Down to Listen that God answers my prayers.

   I don’t know that I have achieved “filled with” Peace, but I have definitely begun to gain small pieces of Peace within. At least enough Peace to be able to start to let go of the past and start to look forward again.

We would do well to slow down a little, 

focus on the significant, 

and truly see the things that matter most. 

-- Dieter F. Uchtdorf

DAY 6 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIKE!

Michael Evans Roe in 1950

On September 6, 1946, my mom gave birth to their first child: Michael Evans Roe. Having been childless for 10 years, they were thrilled to finally have the family they’d always wanted. They lived in a tiny rented 1-bedroom house, and converted the closet under the stairs into a bedroom for Mike. There was a washtub they used for washing clothes, dishes, and the baby. This washtub saw a lot of use.

Mike loved playing Cowboy

   One day, when he was only 4-years-old, Mike was outside playing Cowboys with a few of the neighbor kids – when he was hit by a drunk driver – right in front of this house. According to the newspaper article, he was hit so hard that it knocked the cowboy boots right off his feet. By the time my dad got to the hospital, it was too late. He found Mom sitting in the hospital waiting room, clutching Mike’s teddy bear. She was devastated – and she never got over it. Never.

   Dad’s cousin Lewis drove up to Oakland to scoop up Mom and Dad and take care of them. Lew was smart enough to know that going home to that empty house should wait for a few days. Lew’s wife Alice fixed them the only thing Mom would eat, Warm Milk and Bread. My Uncle DeVoe paid for the headstone. Everyone stepped up and helped Mom & Dad through the worst time of their life. Everyone except the driver. The drunk driver was never charged (it was 1950), never apologized, and never paid a dime of the hospital or burial costs.

Mom & Mike - his 1st birthday

   Mike would have been age 19 when I was born, and Mom still couldn’t talk about him – or even say his name without crying. And 35 years later, when she died, that still held true. She was heartbroken for the 50 years from when Mike died until she passed away at age 83 – she literally never got over it. I remember once when I was about 5 or 6, Mom was crying in her bedroom – so Dad gently scooted me out to the dining room. As he emptied his pockets he told me that sometimes Mom got sad, and we just needed to be quiet and let her rest. Over the years that happened fairly regularly. I now understand why.

    When I was age 15 my now-married sister, Fran, came to Oakland to visit. For a Genealogy class she’d taken at BYU, she had ordered Mike’s Death Certificate – and on it was listed the cemetery where he was buried. Neither of us had ever been there. We snuck away and drove to the cemetery, looked in the designated location, but couldn’t find his grave. It was a small section in an enormous cemetery – a section specifically designated for infants and children. We looked at the dates from the 1940s and 1950s, laid out chronologically – and the ages, from infants that died at birth to children that died at only 8-years-old. It was a small section of the cemetery, but it was certainly filled with sadness. We found the place we thought should be Mike’s grave, but it was just a bare spot of grass – with no headstone to mark his resting place. We continued to search the area, but we were sure this was the spot – but we were also sure that something was wrong. Unfortunately it was late in the day, and the cemetery was closing – so we had to leave, with all of these questions unanswered. And because we knew it would upset our parents, Fran and I decided to just have it be our secret.

   Six months later when I got my Driver’s License, I went back to the cemetery – this time all alone. I went to the office, again looked, again returned to that bare patch of grass. So I returned to the Cemetery Office and explained the situation. A very nice woman pulled out a file, confirmed that a headstone had been purchased, and send a Groundskeeper out with me to see if a little grass had grown over the marker. He walked to that same spot of grass where I thought Mike was buried, and tapped the ground with his shovel. Nothing. More tapping, a bit deeper – still nothing. Then he stepped on the shovelhead, all the way into the ground before the “klink” of the metal shovel hitting the granite headstone. The full shovel head – about 12-inches-long. It had been 30 years since Mike died, and his loss had been so painful that my parents hadn’t been back to the cemetery in 30 years. 30 years of grass had grown over the unvisited headstone.

Mike at Lake Merritt 1949

   Mike died 64 years ago, and would have turned 68-years-old today – but he is forever frozen in time as a 4-year-old.  Almost everyone that knew him is gone now. My sister and I never got to meet him, and know very few stories about him. But for 4 years he was the center of the universe for my parents. For 50 years his loss was my mother’s deepest heartache. And forever he will be our big brother.

   And that’s the beauty of understanding the gospel and having a testimony. You get to be sealed as a family, so the amount of time that you get to spend together on this earth is only part of the picture. The loss of a child is the most heartwrenching experience any parent can go through, but knowing you will be together for eternity can buoy you through the difficult times. After my mom passed away, Dad told me of a dream he had:  Mom and Mike were walking down the big hill at the cemetery, hand in hand – together. And I know that my dad believed it, and it comforted him to know that they were finally together again.

Dad and Mike

  And that’s why Mormons build temples and do genealogy – because Family is what this life is all about. It is the reason we come to this earth, and it is the reason that we love – because we are building those bonds here that will continue long after this life ends. When you know about eternity, you want eternity. And because we have a loving Heavenly Father, we can have eternity.

DAY 4 - COMIC CON IS EXTRAORDINARY

I have never been to Comic Con before – until today. I’ve always been curious, so this year I decided that I’d go ahead and see what all the fuss was about. And having friends in High Places helps out – because Jake Parker has a booth there, and had a Guest Pass he let me have.  [If you go to Comic Con, stop by and see Jake – he’s a very talented artist!]

First of all THE PEOPLE!  WOW!!!  There are not only TONS of them, apparently they are all Crazy. Seriously, if you ever want to feel “Normal” just spend an afternoon at Comic Con. The line was 4-city-blocks long to get in (and it’s only Thursday afternoon) – so I pulled strings and sneaked in the back!  And the costumes that people chose to wear – well, let’s just say it reminded me of growing up near Berkeley California.

Just as I arrived, Jake was being interviewed for a Documentary. He and his family did a fabulous cross-country road-trip this summer, and Jake did an Art Drop as part of it – which they are including in the documentary. This Art Drop is an incredible project, engaging and selfless, and scattered art and joy all across this great country of ours. And it was especially awesome to see a dear friend get recognized for doing something spectacular.

The other fabulous part of Comic Con was the lecture by Kevin Sorbo. He did the Hercules and Andromeda series on television a number of years ago. He shared stories about his career in acting, starting out as a male model, early guest appearances, etc. And then he shared his experience of suffering 3 strokes and how that changed his life and his career. He was poignant, funny, and real. And among the crowd of Star Trek, Zombies, Gladiators, and Geeks – it was refreshing to hear from a Superhero that understands what is truly important in life.

I went to Comic Con expecting to see a bunch of Fantasy and Fiction, but I learned two great lessons: Jake Parker taught me that someone ordinary having an ordinary family vacation can still do something extraordinary. And Kevin Sorbo taught me that even extraordinary people facing extraordinary circumstances cherish the same ordinary things that the rest of us do.

I'm looking for the 

EXTRA

in the

ORDINARY.