THE INNKEEPER

It was September 1992.  Mom was in trouble.  Big trouble.  She had often faced significant challenges throughout the years, and just as often, called out for help from family for some sort of financial salvation.  Even as a child myself (Mom’s only child), I had been repeatedly pressed to do my part to bail her out from her most current circumstances.  These events always strained me—financially, physically, emotionally—and eroded my abilities and even my desire to provide support, though duty held me to the course.

Now age 64 and partially-disabled, Mom was in Sacramento, California, living on her early Social Security retirement income.  She was without a car and used one of those battery-powered scooters to help her travel most distances, and while traversing through fair grounds one night, she unwittingly ran her lower leg into a protruding piece of rebar and gashed it wide open.  Infection set in and she became further disabled.  At the time, she shared the expense of apartment living with a roommate—one whom she came to trust and revere as a friend in relatively short order.  After attaining a measurable level of recuperation, she agreed that the roommate should feel comfortable to leave for a desired two-week visit with a family member. 

Those two weeks, however, turned into a month, then longer, before Mom reluctantly and sadly gave into her fears that the roommate had left entirely.  The so-called visit had been a façade; realizing the shelled appearance of an intended return cut her to the marrow.  Mom was abandoned.  What’s more, having already endorsed her Social Security check over to her roommate to pay her share of the rent, she learned that the rent went unpaid.  An uncompassionate landlord presented an eviction order and threatened, most severely, a lock-out by the Sheriff.  Sadly, Mom returned to alcohol for release, which she had successfully quit a few years before, following a lifetime of addiction. 

In her soulfully-injured condition, she called and begged me to turn chaos into order.  So uncertain of what immediate recourse I might take, especially being 900 miles away, I took inventory of my financial condition once more.  It didn't have to take long.  I already knew.  In just three month’s time, it was my plan to return to the University of Arizona full-time and complete my degree.  I was 31 years old and had grown weary of the meager salary that my technical vocation had afforded me.  According to plan, then, I would soon be without an income at all, dependent almost fully on school loans to see me through.  Now, given our history together, I was expected to also find a way to support my mother once her predicament was revealed.  I labored to sustain Mom emotionally, and objectively researched her situation in Sacramento, calling upon a few key people for understanding and guidance.  And, I prayed—much.  Still, the biggest part of me desperately wanted to run.

One Sunday evening in mid-September, I attended a satellite broadcast of a fireside at my Church, that I might find spiritual relief for my own self and temporarily escape the pressures of my mother’s situation.  During that fireside, the story of The Good Samaritan was presented.  I had heard it and read it many times before:

And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.

And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.

And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.

But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him,

 And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.

 And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.

(Luke 10:30-35)

Suddenly, I was profoundly and undeniably struck with a realization and a spiritual witness.  Samaritans are known to have been most despised in the region.  Similarly, Jesus was “despised and rejected of men” (Isaiah 53:3).  Having understanding, I saw that the Savior was, himself, The Good Samaritan.  And, though my mother had been stripped of her money and abandoned by her supposed friend (yet, a thief); though she was wounded without and within; though her landlord had not compassion on her; though even her only child had considered passing by on the other side; even then, the Savior readily sought to bind up her wounds and carry her to a place of safety, where she might be nursed to health again.

 

And so it was that I was called to act in another role in this story—

the Innkeeper. 

My heart and throat swelled, my cheeks flushed, and tears intensely poured down my face and neck.  It was such an astonishing and singular spiritual event that all attempts to describe it in mere words are defied.  Fear not was the Lord’s word to me.  My mother would be delivered to me for care and healing.  I would be sustained in all ways, financially and otherwise.  Then and there, the Lord promised me that if I were found lacking at the end of the day, I would be repayed.  And so he did. And so he has. And so he will.

I was the Innkeeper.  Me.  That great privilege and honor was bestowed upon me!

It should not take long to discern what any of us might have wished to have done differently if called to fulfill the role of a certain Innkeeper—some 2,000 Christmases ago at a little town called Bethlehem—when Our Savior’s birth was imminently at hand. 

Take a moment.  Reflect upon your senses.  It may transform your life’s direction, interactions and relationships with others, and personal reservoirs, as it did for me.

"Need" - Original Song by Jonathan Thwaits

Many moons ago, I worked more particularly with an extraordinary group of young women in my ward in Tucson.  First, I was blessed to be their Sunday School teacher; and when that class completed the year, I was called to be Laurel Advisor to this same group of wonderful gals.  I became quite close to most of them.  Connections formed with these young sisters of mine have kept my heart and mind grounded through the years.

One of these former young women of mine is Marisa.  At the time, Marisa's last name was Henderson.  Marisa has always struck me as being a most sensitive soul: reflective, down-to-earth, willing and ready to sacrifice, slow to anger and judgment, a peacemaker, a loyal friend, and a romantic.  In high school, she was also one of those stand out kind of gals in that she wore clothes that highlighted her as an individual, rather than just conform to the fashion norms.  Marisa was Alternative Rock, when Alternative Rock wasn't cool.

Marisa ended up marrying this guy with an oddly-spelled last name whom I never knew: Jonathan Thwaits.  For years, I didn't even know how to pronounce that name, and was rather challenged to not do painful somersaults when my tongue stuck to the sidewalk during the attempted roll of the "Th" part of the name.  As in THUD!  Come to find out, you just drop the "h"-sound  altogether.  You sound it out like waits, but you put the big, bold "T" ahead of the wait.  As it should be.  Marisa always has been amazingly patient, yet incredibly bold at the same time.  It makes sense that she would not only find a guy who suits her in so many compatible ways, but that she would find a guy with a last name that fits her personality, too.

Well, just like Marisa, her guy Jonathan has turned out to be quite a winner in my book.  Unpretentious, intelligent as all get out, playful, a dreamer with enough steady grounding to provide lovingly for his family while reaching for those dreams, a creative genius, and a soulful musician.  Through his music, I've come to admire the man that Jonathan is.

I have likewise been lifted up in spirit and continuing hope for the future of my former young woman, Marisa.  Yes, even as her blog title declares, All Good Things Come to Them that Thwaits.  She has made me a believer.

Here is one of Jon's original songs entitled, "Need."  This one touches me on a personal level and fits the theme of my own blog, Becoming Skinhorse, so I gladly include it here.  I hope you enjoy it and end up checking out some of his other songs, too.  He actually has his own blog with more of his original music.  But, for now . . . I hope you will enjoy this one at least half as much as I have.

Taking Risks

To laugh is to risk being a fool. 

To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. 

To reach out to another is to risk involvement. 

To express feelings is to risk exposing your true self. 

To place your ideas, your dreams, before a crowd is to risk their loss. 

To love is to risk not being loved in return. 

To live is to risk dying. 

To hope is to risk despair. 

To try is to risk failure. 

The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, and is nothing.  They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they simply cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, or live.  Risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.  Only a person who risks is free.

- Leo Buscaglia

As a high school Junior, I lived in Sierra Vista, Arizona and was enrolled in Buena High School.  (Well, truthfully, as a Junior, I was enrolled in high schools four different times: in Tucson first, then Sierra Vista, then Safford, then back again to Sierra Vista.  These moves all followed on the heels of two high school enrollments in 9th grade and five more in 10th grade.  Mom wanted to move yet again just before the end of my 11th grade year, but I glued my feet to the floor and basically said, "You go; I'm staying."  Oh, but I digress.)  I managed to stay in Sierra Vista my entire Senior year and ended up graduating from Buena.

I was blessed to have an extraordinary teacher while at Buena: Dixi Dougherty.  We all called her Ms. D for short.  She loved her students and loved teaching, and it was part of her natural teaching style to regularly share profound quotes and other significant ideas.  The above quote by Leo Buscaglia is one that I remember her having shared during my high school years when I was taking her Psychology, Sociology, and U.S. Constitution classes.  I found it refreshing that her teaching style did not change despite the fact that the subjects were so different from one another.

I think some of the key gifts I received from Ms. D were her consistent messages about mankind's need for one another, our humanness, and just simple validation that the emotional patterns already apparent in my young life made sense and were worth something.  I dared to vulnerably share a few things when I was young.  I risked my heart.  She offered safety and understanding as I did so, and greatly enlarged my vision of self-worth and worth to others whom I might encounter in future days.

So, over the years, I've continued to do my share of risking in different ways, just as Leo Buscaglia and Ms. D counseled.  I've been able to discern reactions to me and my willingness to risk from several souls, too.  Those reactions have run the gamut—everything from downright suspicion, fear, and rejection to whole-hearted acceptance and love.  Because of the tangible pain repeatedly handed me as I have dared to risk, I have been tempted to mind my emotional Ps and Qs, to conform more, to blend in, to fade out.  But, the strongest part of my inner self continues to teach me, even scold me, saying, "Such thinking is not right.  Keep going.  Keep trying.  Keep sharing."

A few good handfuls of people along the way have spoken words to this general effect after observing me in action a little while: "Jacki, I just don't know how you can do and say some of the things you do and say.  I would be scared to death.  I could never do that. How do you?"  A lot of times, I have to ask for more specifics, because I just can't quite grasp what they are referencing.  Once they tell me, I am usually rather surprised that the particulars are such a big deal to the person.

As it turns out, the more critical and worthwhile question is one that I might ask them!  "How do you NOT say and do some of these things?"  It makes a whole lot more sense to me that we seek to allow the best parts of ourselves breathe free—even in the face of potential pain—rather than allow ourselves to be stifled, muffled, and even suffocated by real or portended fears.  Much more comes of life as we do so, especially when there are loved ones by our side to steadily share in the journey.

Click here for more wisdom on the subject: 
"Our Deepest Fear" - (April 18, 2009)

A Blanket and a Comforter, Too

On December 23rd, I was blessed to enjoy the overnight company of one of my beloved former young women, Jennifer, and her three children, Samantha, Harry, and Preston.  As we visited, the children asked why I didn't have a Christmas tree up in my house.  I pointed out that, in fact, I had two trees!  After taking another quick look around my front room, the children were clearly perplexed.

Within moments, I pointed to both trees, placed on tables, being approximately one foot in height.  For some reason, the children did not really accept these as being real Christmas trees and asked why I didn't have a real one that was all decorated and everything.  I tried to be funny about things by insisting that they were real enough.  "Why, looky here!  This tree even has presents under it!"  And then I lifted it up, placed a box full of presents on the table, and lowered the tree to literally sit on top of my presents.

They still didn't buy it.

Talk finally turned to my being "poor" as the reason why I didn't have a real tree after I explained that because of my having been laid-off from work seven months up to that point, I just simply couldn't afford a tree this year like I could other years.  I think they tried to understand, but I doubt that they really did.  A few shrugs of the emotional shoulders and closings of open jaws, and we were finally ready to select and watch a movie.  It took a while.

As it turned out, young Samantha got settled in my bed to watch my "so desperately tragic" (as she put it) Becoming Jane movie on her personal DVD player, whilst the rest of us acquiesced to rough it up with Invincible, rather than with one of the more rowdy Indiana Jones series in the front room.  Samantha just could not understand how her brothers would not benefit from and actually enjoy watching Becoming Jane.  Oh, I dunno.  I guess it must just be a guy thing.

Before Sam started her movie, I asked her if she were ready to have the comforter, too, in addition to the blanket she was already under.

"You have a comforter, too?!?" she asked incredulously. 
"Yep." came my quick reply. 
"Wow, Jacki! Well, you are FAR from poor if you have a comforter, too!" 

I just smiled without a little, and within a lot, as I thought of her simple faith and childlike perspective, as I fluffed the comforter over the bed, making sure to get Sam all snuggly underneath it.   Hah!  If she only knew how old that comforter is, I thought to myself. It's not like I just purchased it.

But, what a lesson!  I really am far from poor if I have my Comforter, too!

16  And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever;
17  Even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.
18  I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.
. . . . .
25  These things have I spoken unto you, being yet present with you.
26  But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you.
27  Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you.  Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.  (John 14:16-27)

And so it is that during times of joblessness, of financial struggle, of emotional distress of varying weights and circumstances, and through all other trials which cannot possibly be enumerated here, it is critical that we all that surround ourselves and get snuggly with this Comforter.  For it is this Comforter who brings goodness, love, and hope to our remembrance.  He chases away fear and doubt.  He warms our very souls and somehow helps us to do the same for those around us who are even more poor, or who are feeling more poorly than we are.  And really--when we have this Comforter, we truly are FAR from being poor.

As the little girl, Virginia, once received the fabled testimony of Santa Claus, so do I now unfold similar sentiments, though on a higher and most true plane:

Yes, Samantha . . . there really is a Comforter . . . and He is ours.

What Child Is This?

Of all the times that I love to sing, Christmas is my favorite.  From the time that I was a young girl in school, my heart filled with joy and understanding as I learned to sing the songs of Christ.  In fact, one of my fondest memories takes me back to the day that my fifth grade class was preparing to put on a Christmas play of sorts and the feelings that overcame me as I joined with them in singing and moving about the stage.

Teachers were careful to concentrate more on the technical aspects of the play's production, rather than emphasizing the meaning behind some of the Christmas songs we sang.  And, since I didn't have much of a religious upbringing in my home life, I was pretty much left on my own to discover what it was that we were all singing about.

During a dress rehearsal, the stage lights were brought down low, and we all joined our voices in asking:

What child is this, who, laid to rest
On Mary's lap, is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?

The Arrival of the Shepherds, by Henri Lerolle.
The original is in the Musee des Beaux-Arts in Carcassone, France.

I will never forget the feelings that enveloped me when, as we began to sound the reply to our own question, the Spirit of God lit my heart with understanding.  To my young voice and ignorant heart, maturity and strength of conviction were given, and I was literally moved to tears as the message of the Christ Child sunk deep into my soul:

This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary!

The Spirit taught me that day, and many days thereafter, helping me draw closer to Christ and to know His name, though it would be many years before I would be able to gain a fuller understanding of His Gospel and an ability to bear witness of its truthfulness to others. 

Now, with a fonder appreciation of His Gospel, I continue to sing.  As I do, my hope is that others will, through the Spirit, likewise come to understand the miraculous nature of Christ's birth and life, and to feel wondrous gratitude for all that His life promises us.

So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh,
Come peasant king to own Him,
The King of kings, salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone Him.

Raise, raise the song on high,
The Virgin sings her lullaby:
Joy, joy, for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary!

Begin It Now

Every once in a while, you come across a quote that just pops you between the eyes, bonks you on the head, sends chills up some part of your body, fills your insides with some sort of inspiration, or any combination of the above--then makes you just want to act right then and there to do something monumental.  That's what happened to me in mid-August 1992.

I was discussing a little bit of everyday life with an associate.  I worked at a place called Aristocrat Printing & Design in Tucson, Arizona.  She worked at Alpha Graphics.  Our shop often did specialty work for her shop and I was called upon to consult with her on various projects.  We became rather decent friends, as work friends go. 

And so it happened that one day, she brought me a quote that she liked.  I started to read it, having no forethought as to its content.

I was floored.  I nearly cried, but held my tears until I was alone.  She never would have understood my emotion. 

At the time, I had been working for over 13 years in the printing industry, and while it afforded me a decent living (much better than minimum wage, anyway), I was enormously dissatisfied.  The vocation had never helped me to get ahead financially, nor did my work help me to feel that I made one iota of real difference in the world.  I knew that I needed to make changes in my life; still, I felt nearly paralyzed by my habitual servitude to that life.

Upon reading this quote by Goethe, however, I immediately received strength to pursue a different life's path.  Thoughts flooded my mind, focused on the idea of completing my degree, that I might do something more with the gifts God had given me.  The feeling was intense, the direction unmistakably divine in its origin, and the confidence offered that all financial concerns would indeed work out truly did surpass all understanding. 

Just over three months later, I quit my job, enrolled in college full-time beginning with the Spring 1993 term, and renewed my journey towards completing my Bachelor of Arts in Communication.  I had no idea in advance as to how in the world this would all come together, but I put my full self into motion anyway.  I truly did commit myself to following through with my decision, despite my inability to foresee the future, and despite all the varied fears and realities of life that had stagnated my progression during former years. 

I had already earned nearly 60 disjointed credit hours by that time, but they counted for little when all was said and done, so that I had to start college nearly from scratch.  Nonetheless, three years after my decision to renew my educational journey, I graduated from the University of Arizona, Magna Cum Laude, in Spring 1996. 

Never once during that time did I fear for my financial sustenance, nor did I have cause to concern myself.  "All manner of unforseen assistance and meetings and material assistance" did indeed present themselves.  Naturally, I did pursue and was granted loans, but even these by themselves would not have been enough to cover my school and living expenses for three years.  In addition to these loans, a few modest grants and scholarships were obtained.  Summer jobs in my printing vocation paid nicely.  I received an insurance settlement after having been painfully rear-ended (not the best way to take care of business, but it surely did help).  My mom, whom I had been previously supporting after an emergency move from California, finally won her disability suit against the Social Security Administration (and before a judge who was known to be unsympathetic in such cases), which then allowed her to reimburse funds I had already expended on her behalf the previous year.  And finally, my roommate generously charged me a paltry $150/mo for rent and utilities for the entire period of my schooling endeavor.

To my great pleasure, temporal salvation, and spiritual satisfaction, the sea had spread its walls before me, allowing me to travel to the other side upon dry ground.  Providence--meaning God--moved on my behalf, because I moved first.  I acted in faith.  I did something.  I commited myself to a decision, feeling the strength of the Lord behind me, and I moved. 

Truly, that one pivotal decision made all the difference in the world for me, and I suspect for a few others as well.  It is surely good to remember these things.

King Benjamin stated, "see that all these things are done in wisdom and order" (Mosiah 4:27).  But, let them be done!  Pursue dreams!  Be bold!  Receive genius and power!  Begin it now!

Book of Ether - Focus on 2:22-25

As shared in my 8/15 post, Spencer W. Kimball declared that the Book of Ether was "unparalleled." Referring to the Jaredites' story as told in the Book of Ether, King Mosiah said, "And this account shall be written hereafter; for behold, it is expedient that all people should know the things which are written in this account" (Mosiah 28:19, emphasis added). I submit that God's love and power is evident through and throughout the experience of the Jaredites.

Now, a disclaimer: I have been personally moved to feel that significant, symbolic keys of knowledge pertaining to the plan of salvation are contained within this account. However, I am not a gospel guru; and, while I attend to symbolism in my studies, I recognize that such an emphasis may cause me to go beyond the mark. So, whatever I may share is offered in the spirit of encouraging your own repeated study of this book within a new frame of reference, in order to spur deeper thinking and generate connections between our lives and those of the Jaredites. Take what you care to take. Discard the rest.

I know that I wrote in my journal about my first significant insights into the Book of Ether. Unfortunately, I cannot find the entry now; so, I will recount it as best as I can.

At the time, I was part of the Tucson Institute Chorale. A smaller group of us ("double quartet") had been practicing one of the most beautiful and moving songs I've ever had the privilege to sing: "The Majesty and Glory of Thy Name" (based on Psalm 8). I taped the music during an evening rehearsal so that I might continue to practice on my own. Thus, while driving home from that rehearsal, I sang the music piece several times over while en route, and continued to do so for some 20 minutes while parked outside of my home. My feelings for the Lord were unusually poignant. I was humbled by and through the Lord’s love for me. Spiritually, I sang my heart out. My tears could not keep up with the depth of feelings in my heart.

Here is the text from Psalm 8, from which the song was inspired . . . and I do mean inspired!

1 O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens.
2 Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger.
3 When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;
4 What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
5 For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.
6 Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet:
7 All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field;
8 The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.
9 O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!

"What is man, that thou art mindful of him?" These words kept stirring me to consider how very small I was among all the evidence of God’s creations; yet, my life was deemed invaluable, being of more worth than many sparrows. Who can dare to limit the value of a sparrow?

I prayed. I can no longer recall the prayer, but the feeling ever lingers within; and, when I care to again call up that joyful experience, feelings of supreme gratitude and humility return to me, freely.

It was in this frame of mind, spirit, body—soul—that I left my car and went inside my home to my bedroom alone. Without any predisposition for particular study, I indiscriminately pressed a handful of pages in my scriptures and turned them to the left. When I moved my hand away from the pages, I saw that the stopping point was somewhere in Ether 2. I started reading. Soon, I was brought to this passage:

22 And he cried again unto the Lord saying: O Lord, behold I have done even as thou hast commanded me; and I have prepared the vessels for my people, and behold there is no light in them. Behold, O Lord, wilt thou suffer that we shall cross this great water in darkness?
23 And the Lord said unto the brother of Jared: What will ye that I should do that ye may have light in your vessels? For behold, ye cannot have windows, for they will be dashed in pieces; neither shall ye take fire with you, for ye shall not go by the light of fire.
24 For behold, ye shall be as a whale in the midst of the sea; for the mountain waves shall dash upon you. Nevertheless, I will bring you up again out of the depths of the sea; for the winds have gone forth out of my mouth, and also the rains and the floods have I sent forth.
25 And behold, I prepare you against these things; for ye cannot cross this great deep save I prepare you against the waves of the sea, and the winds which have gone forth, and the floods which shall come. Therefore what will ye that I should prepare for you that ye may have light when ye are swallowed up in the depths of the sea?

(Ether 2:22-25, emphasis added)

The Brother of Jared laments about not having light (and air) for the great journey through the sea to the Promised Land. This was a story that I had read and discussed many times. Suddenly, though, new symbols were opened up in my mind, the likes of which I considered for 45 minutes. I know that the Holy Ghost, who accompanied me and filled my heart with joy and love when I sang that song of praise within the confines of my car, had prepared my mind to understand more of these scriptures.

Now, a few keys to consider:
Vessel = we, ourselves
Light = Light of Christ
Windows = being able to see the end from the beginning; having no veil, and therefore, no need for faith
Fire = whatever temporary or counterfeit agent that tempts us to depend less upon the true Light
Sea = the mortal life we all must pass through
Depths of Sea = deep mortal and spiritual perils
Winds, Rain, Floods = adversity given along the way, either for correction, for the land, or for mercy (see Job 37)
Prepare = Everlasting Atonement of Jesus Christ

How unusually fitting that a later connection should be drawn between Psalm 8 and this passage of scripture in Ether. Again, from Psalm 8:

What is man, that thou art mindful of him? . . . For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his
feet . . . whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.

The overwhelming lesson given me during that night of worship and praise was this: that through the Atonement of Christ, our Father in Heaven already prepared the way for deliverance from the perils of our mortal journey to the Promised Land (eternal life with God). Therefore, what more would we have him do?

Now, a few additional scriptures for you to study and prayerfully consider that complement this passage in Ether 2:

1 Corinthians 10:1-2
Job 37
2 Nephi 8:10
Jonah 2
Alma 7:11-12
Psalm 77:19
Jacob 5:41

More later . . .

One of the Best...One of the Worst

(Originally posted to FaceBook on August 5, 2009)

One of the best sunsets I’ve ever enjoyed…was around November 1983 in Lahaina, Maui, Hawaii. I was serving as a missionary there at the time. My companion and I decided to go to this one point near our home that overlooked the ocean. Pineapples had been planted and harvested there in the past, but the ground was being rested then, and it made for a great place to just hang loose for a while. Waves broke gently on the cliffs below. The ocean appeared calm for miles and miles before us. Prickly pear cactuses (of all things) dotted the tropical slope. And there in the distance (yet, strangely, right within my heart at the same time) was the sunset…gradually lowering, with ever-shifting colors of azure blue, yellow, orange, coral, and grey drawing a curtain on the horizon. What peace. What comfort was mine.

This shot was taken towards the close of the sunset and does not at all
do justice to even a portion of its beauty that evening,
but you probably get the idea.

Prickly pear cactuses on the Maui coastline near Lahaina.

One of the worst tragedies I’ve witnessed…was the explosion and disintegration of the Space Shuttle Challenger and her crew of seven souls on January 28, 1986. At the time, I was working at a print shop in Tucson, Arizona and heard the shocking news on the radio. Later that night, I had a class at Pima Community College and stopped at the cafeteria there to order a quesadilla with all of the fixings. The cafeteria had a television and the eyes of all students there were fixed upon it, including mine. I stood watching and listening as special news coverage repeatedly revealed the awful disaster from all angles. It never ceases to amaze me how such a pristine, blue sky was so emotionally darkened that day by the upward surge of white-clouded destruction. As I watched, tears freely streamed down my cheeks (as they fill my eyes again, even now, over 23 years later). In terms of lives lost, this tragedy was far from the worst. More lives have been lost in a single car accident, for example. Still, America’s hopes for crew member and teacher, Christa McAuliffe--and just the pure excitement generated throughout the world by her addition--made this journey into space such a singular one. Then, 73 seconds after lift off, all of those hopes were stilled. The crew just vanished. How could the story be written this way? The groan of such an overwhelming emptiness cannot be adequately expressed.



STS-51-L crew: (front row) Michael J. Smith, Dick Scobee, Ronald McNair; (back row) Ellison Onizuka, Christa McAuliffe, Gregory Jarvis, Judith Resnik.





One of the best laughs I’ve ever had...came courtesy of one of my roommates, Robin Connelly (Butler now). Along with Robin, my other roommate, Tommie Sue Woolley, and I all made a trip to the Conejos Valley area in southern Colorado one summer. Tommie’s mom owned some cabins there, so the cost was just the price of gas and food. We repaired a downed power line that led to the main cabin, got the water well to pump water, fished in the nearby river, took some nature walks, hiked up to the waterfall at Rough Creek, built fires and made yummy foil dinners, enjoyed the stars, etc.

Tommie Sue Woolley (L), Robin Connolly (R), and Jacki Hancock (C)
at the Conejos Valley in Colorado around 1992.

Then, it was time to go home. After packing up, we all got into the truck, and decided to say a prayer before we left. Robin was elected to say that prayer. She went on for a little while, sharing gratitude for the great time we had there. Then, at the appropriate moment, she said…"and please bless this truck that it will be nourishing and strengthening to our minds and bodies." She paused. We all paused. Tommie and I tried so very hard to contain our heaving snickers. Robin found a way to say "AMEN" as quickly as possible, and Tommie and I just started busting a gut! Tears gushed out from all the laughing! Robin joined with us within moments as well, though she did take pains to try to explain away her slip up. It took us at least another 10 minutes to get ourselves in control enough to start driving off the property. I’m glad that laugh came with us!

One of the worst regrets I’ve carried...was when I decided it was more important for me to offer updates about my mom’s impending death to her brother and sisters via telephone, rather than just stay by her side the whole time during her final moments. When I came back from one of these phone calls, I saw my mom’s eyes fixed and dilated. Just a few minutes earlier, she had been cared for by a group of nurses (washed, etc.), which was a driving reason why I had left to make a phone call in the first place. I think the activities they carried out eked out the last, remaining particles of energy in Mom’s exhausted body. So, I didn’t get that final hug or kiss from her. Instead, I had to drape Mom’s lifeless arms around my neck and hold her as best I could, whispering and singing into her ear my final good-byes. How I wish I had that time back again.

One of the best experiences I've had with God...is a compelling one for me and not at all one that I can share in its fullness. (Aren’t they all, though?) I was preparing a special lesson on the Atonement of the Savior for the Young Women (Laurels) in my charge at the time in Tucson. I spent numerous hours reading, pondering, writing, and repeating the cycle all over again. I considered so many more things about the Savior and His Atonement than I would ever dare attempt to teach. It was an amazing time of preparation of mind for me. This preparation was followed by communication through prayer so powerful that it transformed my spiritual understanding about the Atonement. It was at this time that I came to know for myself, unequivocally, that Jesus Christ lived and died for me. And, had I been the ONLY person who needed spiritual repair in this world and salvation in the next, he would have ransomed himself for my sake, and for my sake alone. And, still…"I stand all amazed…."