Christmas Prelude

December 15, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 2 Comments

By 7 p.m. on that Saturday night, the hospital room was quiet, dimly lit, and very peaceful. Dad was napping on the extra bed, and I had pulled a chair close beside Mom’s bed. Her breathing was slightly labored, but she was resting peacefully and stirred only occasionally. I knew her time was short, and I wondered how much longer she would be with us. The lights of the Christmas tree on the table cast a soft glow on the room. Christmas carols playing from the bedside CD player provided my favorite kind of background music. I hummed along with “O, Holy Night,” remembering how Mom would often break into song with the Tabernacle Choir at her favorite parts! How Mother loved Christmas!

I looked at her in the bed, her physical body tired and worn out, and my mind and heart were filled with memories of so many good times. My mother was one of my best friends, and I felt so grateful for the relationship we shared. She was strong – yet sentimental, outspoken – but sensitive, and exacting – while at the same time gentle. She had supported and encouraged me throughout my life, even if she did think I was crazy to take up skiing when I was almost 50! She had given me a lot of guidance – some asked for, some not – and I knew that her passing was going to leave a void.

But more than what we had shared and what all of us would miss, I wondered about her next step. She was going where none of us had yet been, nor could now. What was it like to die? I wasn’t concerned so much about physical pain or discomfort, but particularly curious about the transition from this life to the next. Where was she going? How would it feel? Who would she see?

I picked up a copy of The Book of Mormon that was lying on the bedside table and began to read where the pages fell open:

“Now concerning the state of the soul between death and the resurrection — Behold, it has been made known unto me by an angel, that the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body, yea, the spirits of all men, whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life.

“And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow.” – Alma 40: 11-12

The room seemed sacred, my heart felt peace, and the Christmas carols were as a prelude . . .

Generally inspired

October 12, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

The Conference Center in Salt Lake City, Utah during a session of General Conference

The weekend of October 3 & 4 brought the broadcast of the LDS General Conference into our home. I love those April and October weekends of marathon church! It’s taken me a long time to feel that way, but at this time in my life I really anticipate and appreciate the chance to listen to Church leaders and be uplifted and inspired by talks like this counsel regarding the need to show and express love to my family members, or this powerful testimony of the Book of Mormon, and this gentle reminder to look for opportunities to be of service.

Yesterday while looking for something else (sometimes my lack of organization does pay off), I came across the history of my great grandfather, Thomas B. Brown (27 December 1824 – 18 June 1899). In light of the previous conference weekend, this excerpt really touched my heart:

“Thomas dearly loved to go to the semi-annual conferences in Salt Lake City. There was not transportation other than horse and buggy. Since he had neither of these, he would walk to Salt Lake City. Two days before conference, Eliza [his wife] would prepare some bread, cheese and fruit, and tie it up in a red handkerchief. Very early in the morning, he would set out. He walked as far as Farmington the first day, getting there about dusk. A fine spring by the side of the road supplied him with a good cold drink of water. After reaching Farmington, he would go to an old friend’s place, Brother Parret, who came from England also. He would spend the night with Brother Parret and his family, and arise early the next morning in order to be in Salt Lake City in time for conference. It would take him two days to complete his journey. He would attend all three days of meetings and then walk back to North Ogden. He traveled over 100 miles round trip, and did so for many years, twice a year.

Thomas said that when all the apostles and other speakers would talk, it was most grand to hear them, but when Brigham Young stood up he started in where all the others left off. His sermons were so powerful and inspirational that the other talks were pale in comparison. Thomas said that if the distance had been twice as far for him to walk, he would have done so, just to have the privilege of hearing Brigham Young speak. On his return, he always brought his children a treat of store candy. It was usually peppermints, and oh, how good they tasted coming all the way from Salt Lake City.”

And I was really happy for the faith and conviction of my ancestors . . . as well as the modern convenience of BYU television.

You say it’s your birthday?

May 9, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 3 Comments

It’s no secret that I love my birthdays. I don’t mind adding another candle to the cake or getting another 12 months closer to Social Security. I just love “my” day. This year was no different, and I had some great plans to celebrate – an extended celebration of sorts.

To properly mark this milestone of 55 years, I set a goal to run a 5K in July. “Everybody” (specifically my young, athletic, in shape, cross country running children) was planning to do it, and I decided I’d get that T-shirt too. I was excited to get in better shape and maybe even drop a few pounds before the May wedding in San Diego. This was going to be awesome!

With great enthusiasm and adequate energy, I embarked on the “Couch to 5K” plan I found on the internet. It seemed to be tailor made for me. The first few weeks were lots of walking interspersed with short intervals of running. The transition to mostly jogging with short intervals of walking was gradual and seemed very doable. Within about 9 weeks I would be running 30 minutes/ 3 miles.

Perfect.

Or maybe not.

Armed with my cell phone for timing (nothing says serious runner like a cellular stop watch), I took to the early morning streets with great determination. Slow and steady I completed the jogging intervals all the while eagerly anticipating the walking segments as a chance to inhale deeply and even out my ragged gasps of breath. Neither rain nor cold could stop me. I was a woman on a mission.

As I should have expected, it wasn’t long before I had to acknowledge that a 55 year old body is a little different than a 25 year old one, and perhaps I was not as physically fit as I had imagined. This was hard work! But I was determined. Pete and Emily reassured me with their stories of entering/re-entering the ranks of runners – pain and discouragement were just part of the drill. People my age run all the time, and I could too.

However, within 3 weeks, reality reared her ugly head, and I was sidelined with knee pain and screaming back muscles. I considered continuing running as the program prescribed using the “no pain – no gain” philosophy. But truthfully, I had visions of re-injuring my surgically repaired ACL, and I was haunted by memories of hours spent in physical therapy. So I quickly decided that running through the pain was just dumb and besides – it really hurt.

Boardmans and Butlers at Dell Swearingen's 40th birthday party - 1985 Invitation said "Come dressed as OLD!"

I was more than a little discouraged and suddenly felt very old. Was there no place for strenuous exercise in my future? Would I simply totter my way through the next 25 years? Was I doomed to working out with old videos of “Sit and Be Fit”? My big birthday looming on the horizon was beginning to feel more like a solemn memorial to lost youth rather than a celebration of what lies ahead.

At this same time, I started reading a book that Carolyn’s doctor recommended, and since we are genetic twins, I figured it was good for me too. And it was.

"You do have to age, but you don't have to rot"

The authors advocate that once you reach age 50, you have a new job – exercising vigorously every day for the rest of your life. They offer 7 rules, but the two that really got my attention are:

1. Exercise six days a week for the rest of your life

5. Quit eating crap!

Well, I can do that. So I revamped my goals. Instead of running a 5K in July, I changed my focus to keeping the next third of my life as healthy – or even more so – than the first two-thirds. Vigorous (but not life threatening) exercise coupled with consistency seem to be a much better fit for me than a crash course in running. Sore muscles the morning following a good workout with weights is far more appealing than crippling back pain.

So now early mornings will find me on the eliptical – outfitted with a heart rate monitor, a taped episode of Oprah, and a water bottle. As the weather gets nicer I’ll take my workouts outside, maybe to the park where I can increase my agility by stepping around the duck poop that decorates the lake path.

And I’ll be younger next year.

They say it’s your birthday –
We’re gonna have a good time.

A new season

April 17, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Monday I savored a few hours working in the front yard. The sun was warm – almost hot, the air was clear, and I felt exhilarated to be out of the house eagerly anticipating spring. Winter has seemed long, cold and dark, and I was excited to enjoy a few hours of sunny warmth as a harbinger of brighter days to come. I particularly enjoy working around the lilies, because the contrast between winter and spring is so dramatic.

As I cleaned away the dead leaves and remains from last fall, the strong, bright green leaves of this season’s growth stood straight and tall, ready to brighten my front yard and my spirits.

Initially, I considered the dead leaves and stalks from last season useless, and just something to get out of the way and into the trash. But on further consideration, I’ve realized that even though their summer beauty is gone, the dead stalks have continued to nurture the plant by providing protection from the cold and snow of winter. They have carefully surrounded the new shoots until they are strong enough to stand alone. And even as I pulled them away and threw them into the wheelbarrow to be taken to the compost pile, I realized that they will continue to serve as fertilizer, rich soil nutrients to be added to flower and vegetable gardens in years to come.

What a clear analogy for my life! I’ve had some periods of cold and dark days this winter, and like everybody else, I will continue to experience ups and downs in daily life. I’ve learned that as I clear away the dead, brown, and seemingly useless stalks and leaves from previous struggles, they can go into my personal “compost pile” and continue to enrich my life through the lessons they have taught me.

As I anxiously await the arrival of spring and summer, I look forward to the bright yellow blooms that the lilies will produce. And I happily anticipate the opportunities ahead of me.

So why is it rain/snowing today?

I’m proud to be an American

January 20, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 2 Comments

Although the campaign was long, ugly, and mean-spirited, and the man I voted for was not sworn in today, my mind has been processing:

Some thoughts on Inauguration Day:

Blessed – to live in a country in which a peaceful change of leadership is normal and expected

Inspired – to be reminded that as an American I can become anything I want

Humbled – to realize that I am limited only by my own lack of vision or hard work

Motivated – to be a better citizen

Grateful – for the circumstances of my birth

God Bless America!

Building Bridges

January 18, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 1 Comment

gg-bridge-span — San Francisco - July 2008

When Mark was young, he was unusually afraid of bridges. Each time we drove across one, from the backseat we could hear his voice edged with fear urging whoever was driving to, “Hurry, hurry. Go faster! Hurry and get across.” He didn’t look out the car window, but kept his head down or his eyes straight ahead so as not to see the ground fall away beneath. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get to whatever destination was on the other side, he was simply terrified of the process.

Then when he was a little older and began to understand that bridges weren’t so scary, Mark was brave enough to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge on a family trip to San Francisco. He realized it was kind of fun to be up so high and have such an amazing view of the entire Bay area- although still a little nerve shaking to look down.

Butlers at Golden Gate Bridge - September 1987

Last July we were in San Francisco once again as a family. This time we rode bikes across the Golden Gate bridge, stopping from time to time to marvel at the time and effort spent in construction, the view, the distance across, and the convenience that bridge provides. Mark was as excited about that adventure as the rest of us – even sporting 10 month old Charlie in a seat on the back of the bike. We all felt something exhilarating about biking across that expanse of concrete and cables – it was one of the highlights of the vacation.

This week as I’ve been processing seemingly endless pictures and mementos of family members I don’t actually know, a couple of times I’ve wondered aloud why I’m really doing this. I wonder if I’ll ever really complete the project. Tell me again who is going to care about all this stuff. Why am I taking the time to sort, organize, preserve and label pictures of a lot of people who are gone and almost forgotten? Who would really know if I threw some of this stuff away?

“. . . family history builds bridges between the generations of our families. Bridges between generations are not built by accident. Each member of this Church has the personal responsibility to be an eternal architect of this bridge for his or her own family. Dennis B. Neuenschwander, “Bridges and Eternal Keepsakes,” Ensign, May 1999, 83

What a great reminder! The picture albums I am creating, the blog posts I am publishing, and the memories I am preserving are family bridges. This work allows each member of the family – past, present or future – to be discovered or rediscovered. These records are the bridges that connect those of us living today with those who have gone before and those who are yet to come. I am in awe when I consider the time periods these bridges span, the care with which they’ve been constructed and preserved, the panoramic view of family they provide, and the connection I feel to these faces and letters. My feeling of exhilaration returned!

And it makes me happy to help build this bridge.

I Can See Clearly Now . . .

January 8, 2009 by lbutler ♥ 2 Comments

Almost 25 years ago we moved into this house. We were fresh from 10 years in the Middle East, seven of those in Saudi Arabia, where I had lived with restricted access to certain public areas – Women will please eat only in the family section of the restaurant – and within the confines of our walled and gated housing compound. The kids were bussed to school, and a play date at any friend’s house other than on our compound required much advance scheduling to make certain that a father was available to drive. As a family we were excited to taste life in America. Malls, restaurants, schools and life in general were ours for the taking. Our options seemed endless!

After living in company provided housing during the years away, we were thrilled to move into our own house. Although not brand new, we quickly made a few cosmetic changes, like updated paint and carpet, to make it our new home. Likewise, I updated my personal look and shed the culturally dictated long sleeved, ankle length dress and occasional head covering that had become my “going to town” attire. Upon our return I took some classes at the community college, volunteered at the kids’ schools and became actively involved in my new surroundings. My perspective was clear and optimistic, and my options seemed unlimited.

The years passed quickly, and as our family aged, so did our house. From time to time we painted bedrooms or changed window coverings. Occasionally we bought a new piece of furniture. A couple of times we even tackled the daunting task of painting the exterior of the house. But through all these improvements, a very gradual decline was taking place with the windows. The change was so gradual, we hadn’t noticed that the window glass, once clear and shiny was now scratched and scarred. The aluminum frames which had been straight and well functioning were now suffering the effects of extremes in temperature and user abuse. Our view to the outside was sometimes fuzzy and unclear. And we finally realized that it wasn’t normal to need both hands and all of one’s body weight to slide a window open. Something had to be done!

Yes, that is a Christmas tree. This project was no respecter of season or holiday!

In his typical do it yourself style, Don contacted a friend for help and together they researched, evaluated options, planned, measured, destroyed and finally replaced the worn out windows. After several months of demolition and replacement we are enjoying shiny, unscratched, securely locking, heat retaining, easy sliding, noise reducing, attractive new windows! And our view to the outside world is clear again.

During the years that our windows were aging, I also experienced a gradual deterioration in my outlook on life, finally realizing that I was living my life through a perception that was scratched, fuzzy, and rather distorted at times. So with the arrival of 2009, just as we outfitted our home with a new and updated vinyl windows, I am replacing my sometimes ineffective and unproductive attitude with a rejuvenated and joyful outlook. The replacement is a process – one that requires some minor adjustments along with a bit of demolition, but the improvements are already worth celebrating.

things that make me happy

Category: Aha Moments