Paint Me A Picture

2012-12-31T08:52:00.000-08:00

Christmas Traditions

by

Connie Goulding

My very first memory is of Christmastime. I was living with my parents and my younger sisters in a small two room house in Glendale. The little house didn't even have the luxury of an indoor bathroom. The nearest bathroom was the men's and women's restrooms next door at the old service station, where my dad worked, on the north end of Glendale.

I was probably about three years old and my first memory is of crawling under the Christmas tree that was set up in the front room that served as the living room and kitchen of the little house.

I was intent on bringing out from under the tree a little green elf doll. The doll had a funny rubber face and long skinny arms and legs. Except for the face, the elf was made of green felt and was filled with sawdust. The doll was for my baby sister Donna. I can remember thinking that the doll was wonderful and I was happy to give it to my sister.

A couple of years later our family moved into small three roomed house that my dad had built, in Orderville. We would live there until my dad could build a house that was big enough for all of us. At least there we had an indoor bathroom. The neighbors across the street didn't have one until I was in seventh grade.

In that little house we looked forward to Christmastime. We could hardly wait for the Montgomery Wards Catalog to come in the mail. We would pour over it for hours and hours, deciding what we wanted Santa to bring. Mother told us to pick out the one thing that we wanted most, then we had to pass it by her so that she could help us write our letters to Santa. After we had almost rubbed off the ink and worn out the pages of the catalog we took the scissors and cut out the people and furniture to make paper-dolls.

One day after hours of play with cutout paper-dolls in the middle of the front room floor we had quite a pile of paper scraps. Mother told us to sweep up the paper and burn it. So we did. She was at the kitchen sink washing the dishes when a whiff of smoke curled around her nose. You should have seen her face when she turned around and saw our neat little fire in the middle of the floor. I still don't see what all of the fuss was about. We just did what she told us to do and the floor was cement.

When dad brought a tree home we found a place in front of the window. The Christmas tree was almost always a Blue Spruce, because dad thought they were the prettiest. He built a wooden tree stand and we made paper chains and strings of popcorn for decorations. The finished tree was topped with a star cut from cardboard and covered with Tinfoil.

When we were older, we brought home paper decorations we made in school. Mother thought they were beautiful and hung them on the tree. Many of our creations were still pinned to her bedroom curtains many years after all of of us had grown and left to make homes of their own.

By the time we grew out of that tiny house there were six of us kids. There was a set of bunk-beds in the front room and in the bedroom there was a bed for my parents, another set of bunk-beds, a crib for the one-year-old and a bassinet for the baby.

Waiting for Christmas was almost unbearable at times. As Christmas drew nearer, the excitement would build, as we waited for the word to go out that Toy Land had arrived at the H&R Shopping Center on main street (where Soup Town Cafe' is located today). The shop owner, Gene Russell and the ladies who worked for him, Lasca Chamberlain, Carol Lamb, and Nan Johnson cleared the hardware items from the shelves in the basement and replaced them with toys. Rows of toys, baby-dolls, trucks and cars, all kinds of toys, just waiting for Santa Clause to come and pick them up for the kids in Orderville.

Christmas then was so different than it is now. There was no Wal-Mart or Target stores. No Mall or shopping online. There were no computers or cell phones. In fact we didn't get a phone in our house until I was almost sixteen. Then I pestered my parents to get a phone because I would soon be of dating age and how could a boy call and ask me on a date if we didn't have a phone?

There was no television in the Valley until I was about 12 years old, and we didn't have a television in our house until I was about 14. The kids in Orderville didn't see the millions of commercials for the latest and most fantastic toys, every other minute, on made for kids televisions shows that promoted even more toys.

Even though we looked forward to Santa coming, we knew that Christmas Eve was baby Jesus' birthday. We learned that from our parents and from attending church. In primary we spent a couple of months learning the Christmas Hymns and practicing for the Primary Christmas Eve Program.

All of the girls hoped that they would be chosen to play Mary as we reenacted the story of the Nativity. I don't think the boys cared as much who they played, they were happy to be a shepherd, especially if they had a staff that they could use to poke each other with during the program.

For me the Christmas Eve Program was the climax of all of the excitement that had been building up for weeks. That night as we gathered at the church, all of the children in town were dressed in their Sunday best with shinny faces and freshly brushed hair. There seemed to be electricity in the air. The kids all twitched with excitement. Still, everyone was on their best behavior because we all knew that there were elves still about, watching to see who was being naughty or nice.

The magic began when the lights went down in the room and the music began to play. The children sang... Silent Night,....Holy Night, ...all is calm all is bright. Then curtains parted and we would sit there spellbound as the story of the birth of Baby Jesus began to unfold.

Some of the children acted out the parts of Joseph and Mary, the wise-men, shepherds and angels, and someone, preferably someone with a nice voice, who was good at reading, read the story of the birth of the Savior of the World, from the scriptures.

Even though the baby Jesus on the stage was a rubber baby-doll wrapped up in a blanket, our hearts were filled with love for the baby Jesus as we sang the Hymns that we had been learning for weeks.

We imagined the dark sky on that night so long ago, as it lit up with angels singing “Peace on Earth”.

And we wondered about how the shepherds must have felt as they saw the angels from the fields below where they were tending their sheep.

We listened as the narrator read from the scriptures about the star and the wise men who followed it from a far-away country, until at last they found the baby Jesus wrapped in swaddling clothes, laying in a manger.

We thought about Mary and wondered how it would be to stay in a stall designed for the shelter of animals with her new-born baby.

After the program was over and we had sang the last hymn, the excitement built to a crescendo as we strained our ears listening for the sound of far-away sleigh bells.

It seemed like an eternity before Santa came bursting in to the room, shouting HO, HO, HO, and jingling a handful of bells. The Primary president ushered the Jolly Old Elf onto the stage and into a large overstuffed chair where he could listen to all of the children's Christmas wishes.

Although teachers and parents tried to hold down the anticipation, there were always a few breakaways that could not contain their excitement. They would do cartwheels and just generally run a muck, punching each other and jumping up and down, like bacon on a hot skillet. Finally each child got their turn to sit on Santa's lap.

After we gave our lists to Santa and he had given us a small treat like a candy-cane or a chocolate covered marsh-mallow Santa Clause, we were anxious to get home and into bed so that he would be sure to visit our house as long as he was in town.

It was on Christmas Eve we hung up our stocking for Santa to fill. We looked through our chest of drawers to find to longest socks possible, sometimes we used our dad's. Some years we tried to get away with hanging up our tights but our mother told us that that was too greedy.

On the years that our parents had a little extra money we got a banana or an orange, in our stocking otherwise it would be an apple that suspiciously looked like the ones that Grandma kept in her cellar. There were always nuts and hardtack candy. We treasured the pretty ribbon candy that we sometimes found in the bottoms of our stockings.

My parents eventually became parents to ten children and then they adopted an eleventh. They continued to take us to the Christmas Eve program every Christmas Eve for as long as I lived at home. The Christmas Eve program became one of my cherished childhood memories.

I have continued to make the Christmas Eve program part of my family's Christmas celebrations, but my perspective of it has changed since I was a child. Several years ago when it was decided that maybe we didn't need to have a program on Christmas Eve, my sister and I decided that it was so much a part of our family's Christmas tradition that we wanted to do it for our families and those who didn't have anyone else to share Christmas with.

At the church as we gathered to watch the children as they sang their songs and acted out their parts in the Nativity, we saw people that we had not seen in a long time, people who only came to the church on Christmas Eve. There were people who's families were far-away and couldn't make it home that year to share Christmas with their parents or grandparents. Those with no children who came just to see the sparkle in the children's eyes. Friends and neighbors exchanging small gifts, along with smiles and well wishes for the Christmas Holidays. But most of all, people taking time out of a busy season to mark the birth of the Savior.

Even as hectic as it got sometimes when I tried to get my family to the church in time for the program, the part of Christmas that I love the most is taking a moment to remember the Savior. Meeting together on the eve of his birth to remember Him, away from the hustle and bustle of the season. Away from the shopping. Away from the wrapping. Away from the cooking and cleaning. Away from the world. Happy Birthday Baby Jesus.

conniestories.blogspot.com

Letter From Heaven

2012-07-21T17:03:00.003-07:00

Letter from Heaven

Connie Goulding

Sometimes in this life we become focused on the mundane, everyday problems of life. We look at our feet and get caught up with mortal and worldly cares. One moment ticks after another as we work out our earthly probation.

It was just that sort of day for me in May of 2012. It was Memorial Day, a Sunday afternoon and my husband Roger and I were spending a quiet afternoon at home. Earlier we had attended church and on our way home we drove by the cemetery to pick up the pots of chrysanthemums from our son Andy's grave. I wanted to plant them in my garden. They would just die if I left them at the cemetery.

When I sat down at the computer as I do sometimes on Sunday afternoons, Andy was on my mind. Eight year-old Andy died in an automobile/pedestrian accident a week before Memorial Day twenty-six years ago.

When I turned on the computer there was a document on the screen. I didn't remember writing it until I read it. I was really surprised that I had saved it. Most of the time I discard personal notes that I write to people. It was a letter that I wrote two years previously to a young mother who was struggling with the accidental death of her two year-old son.

As I sat there reading the letter I felt a tingling, glowing peace come over me. It was as if the letter had been written just for me. It came like an echo from my Heavenly Father. A message from Heaven telling me, “ I have not forgotten you. I still know where you are and of the things you struggle with. I love you and someday all will be made right.”

I don't know how the letter came to be on the screen of my computer that day or how it found its way from the depths of an unorganized filing system. The symbolism is not lost to me that the letter appeared on Memorial Day so close to the anniversary of my son's death and in the moment that my heart was aching for him. I feel that this letter is truly a letter from Heaven. I know that at times the veil is very thin between this world and the world to come. I know that sometimes my sweet son stands next to me and is still involved in the lives of the people who loved him while he was here on this earth.

I am truly grateful that my Father in Heaven shows His tender mercies to me. He lets me know that my son is still close by and he brought this letter back around to me.

Here is that letter:

Dear Jana,

I'm truly glad that I met you. I wish that I could lift the burden of your pain.

I know the struggle it is some days just to stay here and not follow after your little boy. But then the choice is leaving the others that you love.

I know how it is to hate to go to sleep at night because your mind won't rest and you might dream. And how each day the shock of waking up to face the reality that he's gone and to wish that it was a dream.

I know how hard it is to keep it all together and not break into a million pieces as you smile and to put on a face for those around you so they won't feel sorry for you or think you can't handle life, when on the inside you feel like a crazy person who can't quit screaming.

I know how it is to feel like you're out of step with the world, and you wonder how those around you continue their lives as if nothing has happened and for you the world has stopped.

I know how it seems that the whole world is dim and the sun isn't as bright as it once was.

I know how weary you get because your mind will not quit replaying every detail of the accident over and over and over.

I know of the very real pain of a broken heart. I didn't know that it was a real physical pain and heart ache. When my little boy died my chest felt like there was a big black hole where my heart had been jerked out and there was just an empty gaping hole left behind.

I know how your arms ache to hold him and how you wish that you could smell the scent of his hair and feel his warmth and hear his little voice. And I know how you feel raw like an open wound and that it takes all of your willpower just to stand up everyday.

I want to tell you that it gets better. The awful memories will fade and not be as vivid. Someday you'll be able to smile when you think of him and you'll mostly remember the sweet and the funny things that he did or said. The grief will come in waves, but that will lessen over time, until one day other joys will come into your life and you may not think of him for a few moments. Don't feel guilty about that, it just means that you are healing. He still knows that you love him, and he'll still be close to you and involved in your life. I know that he will be there for the important things that happen in your family's life. I know that because it has happened to me and to my family.

Be kind to yourself. I know that you want to be perfect so that you can be with him again. And you'll want everyone around you to be perfect too. Because you love them all so much and can't bear the thought of losing even one more of your family to death or to a spiritual falling away, but be patient. Like I said, be kind to yourself.

The Lord knows where you're at ever if sometimes you think He has lost you and can't hear your prayers anymore. He loves you and He does answer your prayers. Sometimes it just takes so much longer than you want to wait. I used to pray that the Savior would come right now. I spent a lot of time wishing my life away because I missed my little boy so much. So be patient with yourself and with others, this life is a work mission not a pleasure cruise. All these things give us experience (NOT THAT I WOULD HAVE SIGNED UP FOR THIS CLASS). (But wait, here I am, I must have signed up, I just didn't know that it would be this hard).

In looking back on this experience I have learned that it was through this pain that I came to know the Savior. It was while I was on my knees that I met Him. And I am so grateful for that. I have come to trust him with the precious little boy that I love so much. I know that He loves my son like I do.

Just know that it gets better, lean on the ones who love you, be kind to yourself, and be patient. Mourn at your own speed, it's alright to do it your way. Ask for help when you need it.

There are so many people who love you, but many people don't know how to talk about your son and his death with you. Or if they even should. They don't want to add to your pain. They don't know that the only way to add to the pain is to go out of their way to be mean. Most people don't do that, they just don't know what to say. In that case I bring up something about my little boy first. I just couldn't stand to never speak about him again as if he never existed.

Look up the stages of grieving. Some of the stages you go through fairly fast and some of them you go through more than once and some of them may come a lot later. The one thing I told myself I would not do, is to become angry.

I was able to forgive the man who hit my son with his car. I felt so sorry for him. I wouldn't have wanted to be him, to take someones child away from them.

But I did get angry, I got angry with God, not right away but years later. Not so much that my son died; but because it changed our lives so much. It changed who we would have been. It changed my children's lives. They struggled with the loss of their brother. Some of them are still struggling.

Be forgiving of yourself and others. Heavenly Father knows about our struggles and that we are trying to find our way back to Him. He knows that we might become angry or struggle with forgiveness and about all of the other things that we struggle with. He knows that we are Human. That is why he sent his Son. He loves us.

Talk to your friends. Find others who understand. Sometimes the very best therapy is to wrap your arms around others who are dealing with the loss of loved ones. Grief is like going to a far-away country, it's hard to explain it to others who haven't been there. When you find some one else who has been there you can talk to them as much or as little about it as you want to and know that they understand. That can be a great comfort to you.

When my husband and I hear about someone who has lost a child we ask ourselves, “How can they do it? How can they even stand up after such a loss?” Then we say, “we did it,” and we know that we could not have done it with out the comfort of the Holy Ghost. Heavenly Father loves us and He has plans for us to be together again with our loved ones.

I am no longer angry at God. I made the choice to trust Heavenly Father with my son and with my life. It took time, and sometimes it wasn't easy. I still work on things, (I'm still human). I want the Savior to know me when he sees me. I want to be with my son and all of my family forever.

I know this is a long letter. I just wish that I could make things easier for you. Please call me when you are having a bad day. I've been to that far country. I know what it looks like and I know you'll get through it and things will get better. They really will.

Love,

Connie

(Fellow traveler

in a strange land)

conniestories.blogspot.com

Finding Joy in the Journey

2012-07-03T21:35:00.000-07:00

Finding Joy

in the

Journey

Connie Goulding

How do you define Joy? Is joy more than happiness or pleasure?

Sometimes we look around us at our neighbors and friends and think that their lives are so much better than ours. Maybe they have a beautiful home, wonderful children and a big boat.

We live in a pleasure seeking culture. We want to always be happy, entertained, and pampered. It is easy to get caught up in the wants and passions of the day. It is so easy to forget where we came from, who we are and why we are here.

In the New Testament (Galatians 5:22), joy is defined as one of the fruits of the Spirit. “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith...”

Joy comes through overcoming our trials and things that we suffer. It comes with gaining maturity of faith. It comes with knowing that God is our father and that he has a plan for us. It is the sweet knowing that we are loved and the sureness that there is hope of a fullness of joy when we again see His face.

In Nehemiah 8:10 “the joy of the Lord,” is equated with “strength.” In Romans 14:17 Paul tells the Romans that joy is one of the core values, along with righteousness and peace “in the Holy Ghost”. As we gain strength over our challenges we begin to know joy. Joy is the fruit of the Spirit as we gain a closer relationship with our Father in Heaven and our Savior Jesus Christ.

When we are born into this life we step through a veil of forgetfulness. Joy comes as our Spirits remember our Father and our heavenly home. Joy is that deep knowing within our souls that we are children of a Father in Heaven and that we are loved.

Joy is like a flowing river it comes a little at a time and in waves. It comes in quiet moments and in happy and boisterous bursts, like an unexpected wonderful gift. It is our compass directing us on the path as we seek to be reunited with our Heavenly home.

I wonder if it was this joy that Lehi was trying to teach Laman when he showed him the river that emptied into the Red Sea. In 1Nephi 2:9 Lehi spake to Laman saying: O that thou mightest be like unto this river, continually running into the fountain of all righteousness!

It is interesting to compare Lehi's perspective in life with that of his son. Lehi walked away from the home he had always known, his wealth, his position and standing in his community, and the culture of his people. Lehi had an eternal perspective whereas Laman was focused on temporal things. They both made the same journey in the wilderness but Laman was bitter, he complained and was always in contention with those around him.

Lehi knew Heavenly Father's plan for us and he wanted to share it with the son whom he loved. Lehi knew that it is through faithfully living gospel principles that we find joy in this life and in the next.

It is a natural inclination to share joy with others, especially the ones we love. John taught that the greatest joy a parent can have on this earth is to see that their children walk in truth. We find joy in our children and we want them to be happy. In 2 Nephi 2:25 Lehi said, “Men are that they might have joy.” Our joy is increased when it is shared with the ones that we love.

Because of a forgetfulness of our Heavenly home, the trials we face while on this mortal journey can become overwhelming at times. In the ups and downs and struggles of our daily lives, we sometimes find ourselves in the depths of sorrow. Our Savior Jesus Christ gave his life for us so that we could have the beautiful gift of life everlasting which is in the direct opposition of sorrow. Overcoming death and sorrow is part of everlasting joy. He promised to wipe away our tears.

Joy is faith that our Heavenly Father loves us and has a plan for our return to Him. Joy is knowing that our Savior gave His life that we may live and be reunited with those we love. Joy is an underlying peace that is ours when we remember who we are and why we are here. Joy comes when we follow the path set for us by our Redeemer and Savior Jesus Christ. Joy helps us to have hope when we stumble and struggle in this life. We gain joy when we are able to see the big picture. When we know that we are in the hands of our Heavenly Father. That through His plan He provided a Savior to give his life that we might live and through His sacrifice we could overcome our sins and again live with Him.

So what can you do to find joy in your life?

This journey begins with a desire to believe in a Heavenly Father who loves us. Hope is born of a belief that this life has a purpose and that He is there and knows of our struggles.

This journey requires humility, the humbleness to know that there is something bigger than ourselves.

This journey requires willingness to listen to the spiritual whisperings of the Holy Ghost. A willingness to listen and to act. As we act upon these prompting of the Spirit we find that the Spirit is incompatible with Sin. Sins are the stumbling blocks that we face in this mortal existence. We may be bound to addictions of the body and mind and to errors of thinking.

As we open our hearts to belief in a power greater than ourselves and to the reality of a Father in Heaven, the Spirit of the Holy Ghost will begin to make a powerful change in us. As our heart change, the focus of our lives change. We begin to feel sorrow for choices that take us away from the peace and joy we feel when we are in tune with the Spirit and with our Father in Heaven.

This is truly what repentance is. It is the ability to recognize the actions and errors in our thinking that bind us down. Things that make us stumble and hold us back. It is coming to the place in our lives where we have a desire to change. It is when our heart changes and we work to no longer hold onto the things that separate us from our Father in Heaven. It is when we recognize the mistakes that we have made and we make every effort to put things right with others, ourselves and our Heavenly Father.

Joy comes as we build a relationship with our Father in Heaven and our Savior Jesus Christ. Joy comes with gratitude as we begin to notice and appreciate their influence in our daily lives.

Having joy in our lives doesn't mean that we will not face sorrows or challenges. Everyone has trials and challenges to overcome in this life. For some the challenges seem overwhelming. In His love for us our Heavenly Father has made it possible for us to have a daily connection with him through prayer.

Our Father in Heaven loves us and has set a plan in motion that we might have joy. He has left sign posts along the way to guide us. We find messages just for us in the passages of the scriptures and and in the words of Prophets past and present. As we tune our lives to the whisperings of the Spirit and the words of inspired leaders we are better able to overcome our challenges and to find joy in our lives. When we live the principles of the Gospel our joy increases.

There are people who seem to shine with the light of joy. These are the same people who are living their lives in the service of others. They are quick to offer a smile to a stranger and a hand to those in need. They are the ones who quietly pick up the chairs after a meeting or cheerfully take a meal to a new mother or to a family that has lost a loved one. You find these people at the temple week after week doing vicarious work for those who could not do it for themselves. They know who they are. They know where they came from and they know where they are going. They see the big picture.

Joy seems to be inseparable from gratitude. With joy comes a profound sense of reverence and gratitude to a Father in Heaven who loves us and to the Savior Jesus Christ who gave His life that we may live.

The Gospel plan was designed that we might have joy in this life and a fullness of joy when we return to our Heavenly home. What joy will be ours when we again see the face of our Father in Heaven and those who have gone on before us.

Our challenge in this life is to find joy in the journey while we are here. To learn the things that we came here to learn. To love one another and endure to the end.

conniestories.blogspot.com

Letter to Jana

2012-05-27T21:33:00.000-07:00

Dear Jana,

I'm truly glad that I met you. I wish that I could lift the burden of your pain.

I know the struggle it is some days just to stay here and not follow after your little boy. But then the choice is leaving the others that you love.

I know how it is to feel like you're out of step with the world, and you wonder how those around you continue their lives as if nothing has happened and for you the world has stopped.

I know how it seems that the whole world is dim and the sun isn't as bright as it once was.

I know how weary you get because your mind will not quit replaying every detail of the accident over and over and over.

Just know that it gets better, lean on the ones who love you, be kind to yourself, and be patient. Mourn at your own speed, it's alright to do it your way. Ask for help when you need it.

I was able to forgive the man who hit my son with his car. I felt so sorry for him. I wouldn't have wanted to be him, to take someones child away from them.

Love,

Connie

(Fellow traveler

in a strange land)

A Parable

2012-02-06T07:23:00.005-08:00

A Parable

Connie Goulding

August 5^th, 2010, thirty-three Chilean miners, 2,300 ft. deep inside the earth, were trapped by a massive cave-in when the rock inside the mine where they were working, collapsed. They were restricted to a 500 ft. safe area and to the mine shafts below the collapse. It was hot, humid, dark and uncomfortable.

They were dead men walking, and unless they were rescued they were doomed to live for only as long as the small supply of emergency food, water and their personal stamina would last. Although they had tools and knowledge, they had no power to save themselves. The task of freeing themselves was too overwhelming.

How alone they must have felt as they listened for any sign of a rescue, only to hear the groaning of the earth as it settled in upon itself. They were separated from home and family by almost a half a mile of unmovable rock overhead. Their hope of ascending the three and a half miles through the twisting mine shaft, the same route that they had descended, became impossible after the massive rock fall.

When faced with the stark reality of their situation they chose to have hope. They organized themselves, rationed their food and water and waited. They had faith that those on the surface were working, doing what they could to rescue them. Still there must have been times when it became hard to hold onto that hope as day after day passed. Days passed and then weeks. Finally days after their food ran out, on the seventeenth day of their captivity, hope was renewed when a small shaft was created as a drill bit broke through from the surface.

The trapped men, wanting the rescuers on the surface to know they had been found, pounded on the drill bit, hoping that those working on their rescue would hear their tapping. To be sure that those on the surface knew that they had been found alive they fastened a note written in red marker to the end of the bit. It read “ESTAMOS BIEN EN EL REFUGIO, los 33”, “We are well in the shelter, the 33.”

Through a small hole, the circumference of a grapefruit, communication was established with the world on the surface. Communications via the shaft became known as “Palomas,” or being interpreted “Doves”, because, along with the food, water, and medicine sent down the shaft to the miners, notes from loved ones were carefully carried, as if on the wings of a dove, through the shaft to the trapped miners below and back to their families on the surface.

It must have been with mixed feelings that the miners faced the reality of their situation. On one hand there was overwhelming joy and relief that they had been found, but on the other hand the enormity of their dilemma must have been daunting. Even though those on the surface knew where they were, it would take time to put a rescue plan into place and it was unknown if the plan would even work.

Never before had a rescue of this depth, for this many men, after this length of time been successful. The rescuers reluctantly informed the miners that it would be months before they could be brought to the surface. The rescuers hoped to have the miners back with their families by Christmas. The miners faced an entombment of an additional 4 months.

In many ways the story of our lives mirrors that of the trapped miners. We have descended below our home, away from our Father in Heaven. We, like them, are dead men walking, trapped in our mortality, lost with no way to save ourselves.

In this life there are times when we all suffer. We have a short ranged view of our existence and many times we feel that we sit in the darkness unable to see beyond our own pain. We feel a loneliness and a longing for a better place and have an underlying feeling that there should be more to our existence and that this is not our home. Many times we feel alone and wonder if anyone knows of our pain or cares.

There are among us, many who through the consequences of their own choices have lost many of the liberties that our Heavenly Father planned for us to enjoy in this life. Many are in bondage to addictions of their physical bodies or to errors of thinking or both. Some of us are in sad circumstances not only because of the choices we have made but, also because of the choices of others. Many of us were directed on wrong paths by those who should have loved us and provided us with better. Some are lost because of pride and self-centeredness, and an inability to empathize with others. Some have given up hope and some just don't want to be told what to do.

Early in their captivity the miners organized themselves and divided into teams with three men in each. They were to watch over and help one another with physical, mental and spiritual challenges. That was one of the secrets of their being able to survive as long and as well as they did. They truly became their brothers' keepers.

We, like the miners, are in this existence together, trying to figure out the best way to live our lives. How much better off would we be if we loved others as we love ourselves and they loved us?

In the miners' case, as in ours, there were several plans of rescue put forth, but for them, there was only one plan where the drill stayed true and did not veer off course or come to a halt because it was not up the the task. One drill followed a straight path, through one of the small pilot holes that had been drilled previously to locate the miners.

The miners were not passive in their rescue. As the drill rotated and pounded its way to their rescue, rock fell down the smaller shaft and heaped up into a rubble pile in the cavern where the miners were trapped. The miners worked to move the rock as it came down, clearing the way for the larger drill. They worked around the clock, in hot and uncomfortable conditions. They worked being hungry. They helped one another. They had hope, and they endured.

Everyone born into this life faces the same impossible dilemma, with our first breath we start the journey to our death. Our mortality stands between us and our immortal home. We have no way to save ourselves or one another.

For the Chilean miners, rescuers built a capsule to be lowered down the narrow shaft using cables. The rescue capsule was cylindrical and narrow, just 24 inches in circumference, barely big enough for a man to fit inside. The capsule was only 4 inches narrower than the shaft that was driven through 2,300 ft. of solid rock.

Deep in the mine the miners waited for their salvation, while on the surface rescuers worked out details of the rescue plan. Before a single miner was brought to the surface several of the rescuers descended down the narrow shaft. They volunteered to minister to the trapped miners, to check their physical and mental well being and to prove that the rescue capsule would work.

Through our Heavenly Father's love for us, the world has been blessed by the ministering of angels. Angels who have chosen to aid us in our journey back to our Heavenly home. Many in the depths of their trials have been touched personally by angels who have chosen to be their guardians and history is filled with examples of angelic visits that have enlightened mankind and pointed us back to our Heavenly Father who loves us.

When the time came for the miners to be raised from the depths of their captivity each man was faced with the choice to believe that the plan for their rescue would succeed. One man at a time stepped into the capsule; each to make the ascent alone. As each man put his trust in the plan, he had hope that the capsule would be drawn up the narrow shaft in a true and straight ascent and not become off balance and get stuck. If the capsule were to become stuck in the shaft, it would crush their hope of a rescue and condemn the miner and those yet to followed to the dark depths of the Earth. The plan had to work or all hope was lost.

Before this world was created a plan was put into motion to rescue us. For us a Savior was provided. A Savior chosen to save us from our mortality, from all the sadness, pain, errors in thinking, sin, illness and death that we would suffer in this life, to bring us back to our home and to our Father in Heaven.

Just as with the miners, our rescue is an individual and personal rescue. Though salvation is available to everyone our relationship with the Savior is an intimate and personal one. For us there is only one plan of rescue, that is in and through the atoning sacrifice of the Savior Jesus Christ. He descended below all things to rescue us.

He took upon himself our pains, our illnesses, our sins and our mortality. He is the giver of hope and of life. He paved the way for us to return to our home with our Heavenly Father, to be united with the loved ones who have gone on before us. He stands beside us to take the weight of the burdens that we carry, to dry our tears and to bring us peace. He came to bring us home.

The fabric that runs through all of our lives in this existence is agency, the power to choose for ourselves, to act and not to be acted upon. Even in the depth of the earth the trapped miners had the choice to trust in the plan for their rescue or to wander into the dark regions of the mine looking for another way out.

As each miner stepped into the capsule and closed the door he gave his will over to the rescue plan and to the rescuers on the surface. He became one with the plan and trusted in salvation. This surrender of will is what is required for us in our salvation. We must surrender our will for trust in our Savior Jesus Christ.

Because of the eternal sanctity of man's agency upon which this mortal life was founded, the Savior cannot take from us our will. We are free to choose. The Savior stands beside us waiting to heal our wounds and to lift us into Eternal Salvation, but He can only do that with our invitation.

For me, that time came when I was on my knees in the depths of grief. Like the miners as they stepped inside of the capsule, I was at a pivotal point, should I stay with the things that I knew and try to overcome my challenges with my own strength and knowledge or should I reach out to my Heavenly Father and ask for help?

How could someone as great as God care about me and why should I lay my burdens upon the Savior when there was already so much suffering in the world? I should just bite my tongue, stand up straight and get over it. But like the miners, trapped by the unmovable rock that held them captive, I could not lift the burden of my grief.

Before my eyes, my beautiful, funny, full of life eight year old son was killed in an automobile/pedestrian accident. I held his body as his blood spilled out on the roadway and his spirit slipped away and returned to his Heavenly home. I pleaded with my Heavenly Father to let him stay, but that wasn't in my son's life plan.

I was lost in the dark, overwhelmed with the burden of my grief. I was so weary, unable to rest as the problem of mortality was always before my eyes. I came to know that a broken heart is a true physical feeling. Where once I had a heart there was now only a dark hole that was raw and painful.

It was under this burden that I bent to ask my Heavenly Father for his help and it was there that I met the Savior.

As I appealed to my Father in Heaven, I told Him how weary I was and asked Him to please lift the burden of my grief. Before I could again stand on my feet the weight of my sorrows was lifted from off of my shoulders. I still had to work through the pain and loss, but the unbearable weight was gone.

It was there that I came to know that the Savior stands by our side waiting to lift our burdens. Waiting only for us to ask Him, waiting for us to lay our burdens upon His shoulders, waiting for us to put our hand in His.

We like the miners, as they pulled the door closed behind them and became one with the rescue capsule, must become one with our Savior and surrender our will to His and trust in His rescue plan for us.

One by one the miners made their solitary ascent up the narrow shaft from the darkness and into the light. They were greeted by their loved ones as the whole world watched and cheered. The rescue plan had succeeded; not one man had been lost. They were redeemed on Oct. 14, 2010, sixty-nine days after the mine collapse, fifty-two days after they had been found alive.

It is my hope that when I make that solitary journey from this life into the next, I will do it in the arms of my Savior. When I arrive in my Heavenly home what joy there will be as I am reunited with those who have made the journey before me. In the meantime I know that my Savior lives and loves me and that He stands beside me.

conniestories.blogspot.com

Is It Only Paper?

2011-11-20T07:23:00.001-08:00

Is It Only Paper?

Connie Goulding

Nov. 2011

I would like to tell you of the journey that I traveled when I was young.

I was newly married and I had a great desire to have a family. I was the eldest child in a family of ten children (the crash test dummy). For me marriage was children and family. My husband and I prayed that we would be blessed with children, but it didn't happen right away. Still we hoped and planned. One day a lady showed me some of the baby booties that she had made for her grandchildren. I asked her if she would make two pair for me. I told her I needed two pair because I was going to have a set of twins. I don't recall that she doubted me at all, she just made two pair of yellow and white baby booties and brought them to me.

Time went by and still no babies. During that time I had a dream and in that dream I saw two little boys and then a little girl. Finally after doctors visits, old lady's advice and home remedies, my husband and I asked our bishop to give us a priesthood blessing. Nine months later our first son was born.

He was such a joy, and the light of our life and we enjoyed him so much that we decided to have another baby right away. Eighteen months after the first, our joy doubled and our second son was born. Life was busy with two little boys and on top of that we decided to build a house. Just before we moved into our new home we found that we were going to have yet another baby and I was sure that this baby would be our little girl. She was due to arrive just nineteen months after our second son. Our oldest would be barely three years old.

Everything went pretty well with my pregnancy, no complications or hints that anything might be wrong until two weeks before my baby was due. At my regular check-up the doctor told me that the baby was getting really big. He was worried that the baby would be too big for me to deliver and he wanted to start labor before the baby got any bigger. He couldn't locate the baby's head and didn't want to start labor until he knew how the baby was situated. Then almost as an afterthought he said, “Before we start labor I think I'll send you for an ex-ray just in case the baby is breach.” (That was before ultra sound was available).

My mother was with me that day and she went with me to get the ex-ray. We waited until the doctor came back from his lunch to look at the results. He was still munching on a doughnut when he finally came into the room where the ex-ray tech had hung the film on a light board. He flipped the switch and turned on the light.

I could identify my bones, but the rest looked like a jumble to me. I couldn't tell what was what. The doctor was smiling as he pointed out the spine and the cranium of my baby. Then he pointed to the second baby. Two little babies and they were both breach. Two babies face to face, they looked like they were having a boxing match. Seven days later I went from being a mother of two little boys to a mother of three little boys and a girl.

My life was busy. Babies take a lot of time, two twice as much as one, toddlers at least eight times as much as newborns.

I learned so much about motherhood and child care from my mother, but as talented and amazing as she was, she was beginning to have some challenges in her life. She was falling into the depths of depression and a full mental breakdown. Her mental collapse shook me to my very foundations. Through that busy and emotionally difficult time my sisters helped me a lot, I don't know what I would have done without them.

Reality was beginning to stare fantasy directly in the face. I went from dreaming of holding a sweet little bundle of joy in my arms to wondering if I would ever again get a full nights sleep. From decorating a sweet little nursery with beautiful rocking cradle filled with soft blankets and quilts, to four little busy bodies pulling out every drawer in their dresser, scattering clean clothes everywhere and painting their walls with pooh. From reading romance novels all night and sleeping in until noon, to getting up to find the twins had broken two dozen eggs on the kitchen floor to make a slippery slide. From saying things to my visiting teachers like, “my kids don't write on the walls,” to scrubbing off the pencil where the wall was black in between every slat of their crib the very next day.

I had dreams of rosy faced little cherubs, beautifully dressed, not one hair out of place. They were beautiful, I loved them, they were my life. But there were times like the time I found that number one son had painted number two son green with a magic marker. Not just a little bit, but all over his little blond head, around his eyes, all over his face, down his arms and on the palms of his hands. And they didn't stay dressed, even though they could get four wearings out of a shirt, front, back, inside-out front and back, they loved to strip off and run around in their Batman underwear. Most of the time they wore their undies back-wards so that they could see the cool pictures of Batman that were printed on the seat.

I went from sometimes having a clean house with things in their places to piles of laundry, toys in the bathtub and to finding snow boots full of milk in the middle of the living room floor. And I went from being a young girl with stars in her eyes who married her high school sweetheart and rode off into the sunset in his turquoise blue Ford Mustang, to being a wife and mother that others depended on for so many things. I went from being the one my sweetheart looked at with loving eyes to being replaced by meatloaf and a bowl of mashed potatoes when he came home and asked “What's for dinner?”

My husband worked hard as a mechanic. He put in many long hours and in my immaturity and being self centered I didn't see that was his way of showing his love and commitment to me and our growing family.

I began to have an irritated attitude. Didn't he see the things I had to put up with everyday? Didn't he know I was up all night with a baby who had an earache? Didn't he know that the twins were teething? Didn't he see that I was overwhelmed with laundry and toys and crying babies? I began to entertain thoughts like, “He doesn't have a clue how hard my life is. I could do this better by myself.”

Then one night I had a dream. In this dream I was driving my husband's 67 Ford Mustang, the first car he had ever owned, the one that he bought his senior year in high school. I was leaving him and the life we had together. One of my sisters was with me and my children were in the back seat.

As we were traveling down a long straight road we saw a large flock of beautiful white birds along the side of the road. Having never seen birds like these I stopped the car to look at them. Wanting to get a better look at the birds we got out of the car and walked nearer to them. The birds didn't fly away and we were able to get very close to them. After looking at the birds we turned around and started to return to the car. The car was no longer where we left it. While we were looking at the birds, a man had taken the car to a shop about a block away.

By the time that I was able to get to the shop with my little children, some were men sanding the paint off of the car. I was very upset and I tried to stop them from ruining the paint on the car. I pleaded with the man who had taken the car and who was in charge, to put the car back the way that it was. I begged him, saying, “This is my husband's car. You can't do this. This car means a lot to him. You have to put it back the way it was.”

The man finally agreed to stop sanding the paint off of the car and to return it to it's original condition, but he told me that it would take time to do this and suggested that I take my children to a nearby large building and wait while his men worked on the car.

Inside the building there was a gymnasium where there were many people watching a basketball game. I sat for awhile watching, but I wasn't interested in the game that everyone was so intently involved in watching.

I left and went into a smaller room that was off to the side of the larger one. The room was much like a foyer. There were couches on opposite sides of the room and there were several doors that opened into the room. My children were seated on the floor playing.

The man who had taken the car and several of his helpers came into the room to tell me how the work on the car was going. He was a handsome man and he paid a lot of attention to me. He said very flattering things to me and sat very close to me on the couch. I began to feel an attraction to him because he made me feel beautiful and desirable.

After a few minutes he got up and went to the far side of the room and got a beautiful leather bound book. It had a red leather cover with gold letters imprinted on the front. It was a very large book, measuring about twenty-four by twenty-four inches square and was about eight inches thick. He again sat down next to me on the couch and laid the book on my lap.

I opened up the book and inside were the most amazing and wonderful things. I had never seen such a book before or after this dream in the real world. It's hard to explain the things in the book and the closest I can come to describing them is the beautiful fold out decorations that some stores hang from the ceilings at Holiday time, or a pop-up book. But it was even more than that. The things in the book seemed magical, they were wonderful and amazing. As I turned the pages each page was more wonderful and beautiful than the last.

The man sat close to me on the couch pointing out different things in the book and whispering things in my ear. As I reached to turn another page I happened to look up and I noticed the man's helpers. They were standing across the room and their attention was on my little children who were sitting on the floor. They stood there whispering to each other. Suddenly I knew that they had designs on my children and that the man on the couch and the book were a distraction.

I awoke with a terrible feeling. It was a dark and malevolent feeling that left me afraid for my children.

I believe that everyone has within themselves the interpretation of their own dreams. Some of the dreams I have had are just dreams and I don't see anything special about them, but others leave me unsettled and feeling that there is something that I might learn. I see kind of a visual symbolism of things in my dreams.

In this dream my thinking put me on the road to taking my children and leaving my husband. Letting things run through my mind like, “I could do this better by myself” and “ He just doesn't understand me,” put me on the road to leaving him and destroying my marriage.

The car, a vehicle to get from one place to another, represented my marriage. I had taken it down a road without my husband and he cared about it and what happened to it.

The long straight road was a route of where I could travel in this life.

The man and his helpers who had taken the car when I was distracted and not paying attention were the Tempter and his helpers.

It took me a long time to decide what the white birds represented. The birds were heavenly creatures who were along the route I was taking that distracted me from the path that I was on. They allowed me to stop and gave me time to change my direction or correct the errors of my thinking. I've come to believe that there are Heavenly influences that are put in our paths to guide us and enlighten us and give us a second chance.

The large building represented the world and was a place where many people were focused on entertainment.

The beautiful red book was filled with wonderful and beautiful things. They were the things of the world and they can become bedazzling and addictive, but they were only paper and not of a eternal nature.

As the Tempter sat by my side and whispered in my ear, flattering me, and showing me the beautiful book, I almost forgot about my children. It was only when I saw the look on the faces of his helpers as they made plans for my children that I was shocked awake.

I knew that it was the thoughts that I entertained that put me on the road that would put my marriage in a dangerous place and without the protection of a strong marriage and loving family my children would be left more exposed to the Tempter and his helpers.

This dream instantly changed my life. It made me realize that there is nothing that I love more than my family and I didn't want to do anything that would put my children in the Tempter's path.

Many times, when life gets hard and I'm feeling overwhelmed I've asked myself, “Are errors in my thinking putting me on the wrong path?” “Am I a good example to my children?” “Are the things that distract me or entice me of an eternal nature or are they only paper?”

Have I Told You

2011-11-14T18:05:00.001-08:00

Have I Told You

Heavenly Father, have I told you

how I love the blue of the sky

as it stretches from horizon to horizon,

and how I love its shades of blue

as it turns from aqua

to ultra marine blue overhead?

Have I told you how I love the color

of the grasses in the Fall,

and how I love the way that they

dance and sway

as the breezes pass by?

Have I told you how I love the face

of a high mountain lake,

when in its stillness

it reflects the trees in their garish colors

as they say goodby to Summer

and embrace the chill of Fall?

Have I told you how I love the evening

as the sun slips away from the day,

and runs her golden fingers

across the mountain peaks

to paint them pink and gold?

Heavenly Father have I told you

how I love my grandchildren

as they laugh and play and run

and how I love my children

and wish that my life had just begun?

Heavenly Father have I told you

Thank You?

Connie Goulding

On the worst day of my life will you still hold my hand?

2011-11-08T09:00:00.001-08:00

On the worst day

of my life

will you still hold my hand?

I see many people on the worst day of their life because I chose to become an EMT (emergency medical technician). Many people tell me that they could never become an EMT because they couldn't stand to see the things that I sometimes have to see.

I don't love the gore or excitement. I don't love the flashbacks of the sights I've seen that run through my brain. I don't love the smell or the worry. I don't love the pain and the sadness. I don't love being tethered to a pager worrying about if I can go somewhere or if the page will go off. I don't love the surprises when I find out that the victim is someone I know. I don't love meeting new friends with broken bodies and broken hearts as they lay in a pile of rubble that used to be a car.

Hurry

Hurry, hurry, hurry.

Life is running out.

Pieces of your world

lie scattered all about.

Hurry, hurry, hurry,

life is running out.

Baby's small pink shoe,

bits of broken glass...

Photos on the roadway...

scattered in the grass.

Hurry, hurry, hurry,

life is running out.

Rescue's harsh shrill scream...

people all about.

Hurry, hurry, hurry,

life is running out.

Blood and pain and gore.

It's getting hard to remember

what the rush was for.

So why do I do it?

I do it because someone showed up for me on the worst day of my life. Blessed are the ones who show up to hold a hand, to pick up battered bodies and to bandage wounds.

On the worst day of my life my beautiful, funny, full of life eight-year old son was killed in an automobile, pedestrian accident.

Many people showed up to help that day, EMTs, Highway Patrolmen, Sheriff's Deputies, doctors, family, neighbors, friends, and last but nowhere near the least, the mortician. All of these people left what they were doing on that early spring morning in May, to answer the call to help my son and my family. They were there to do the things for us that we could not do for ourselves. Some of them left their children who were getting ready for school that day to be with mine as he crossed from this world into the next. Some of them like my mother, who was an EMT at the time, would expose themselves to the flashbacks of seeing his lifeless body laying in the road only to ask themselves if there was anything more that they could have done. For many of them this was not the first time they had seen this kind of sorrow and it would not be the last.

Why did they do it?That is a question I cannot answer for them, each one has their own story, but for me , I became an EMT because of a profound sense of gratitude I have for the service and sacrifice that each one of these people gave to me on the worst day of my life.

I am so eternally grateful that my son was not alone when he left this world, that someone was there to hold his hand. That is why I choose to be there, so that on the worst day of your life you won't be there alone. I will be there to hold your hand and I'll do everything that I can so that you'll have a better day tomorrow.

Connie Goulding

Widow's Mite

2011-10-30T18:59:00.001-07:00

Widow's Mite

Dressed in fine apparel,

Lauded by their friends,

Rich men brought their fortunes,

To be esteemed in the sight of men.

The widow entered quietly

Unnoticed by the throng.

In her hand were two small coins,

She had treasured long.

Into the treasury went the coins,

All her earthly wealth.

The Savior watching all that day

Asked this question of His friends,

"Of all who cast their coins today

Who has given more?

Some have cast in many coins . . .

Who did they do it for?"

The widow in her poverty,

In the midst of want . . .

Had cast in but two small coins,

She had no wealth to flaunt.

The Savior spoke then quietly,

"Look not on the outer part,

It is not what the world see's . . .

It is what's written in the heart."

Connie Goulding

Mark 12:41-44

Rainbows

2011-10-27T21:18:00.001-07:00

Rainbows

I often look for rainbows

Written across dark stormy skies.

Flashes of bright colors,

Released by beams of light.

Within dark brooding rainclouds

Small droplets of ice cold rain

Explode with hidden colors

When touched by the sun's warm rays.

Sometimes life's storms are oppressive,

At times there seems no end,

But I'll be here waiting,

For the sun to shine again.

Connie Goulding

Heaven's Glory

2011-10-23T18:40:00.001-07:00

Heaven's Glory

As clouds darken my horizon,

I know they must surely pass

Like winter snows,

To bring spring flowers at last.

The beauty of the rainbow

I could never see,

Without dark rainclouds

First to threaten me.

And where I stand today,

Others once stood here too,

Surrounded by mists of darkness...

Waiting for the light to come

bursting through.

Light bouncing off of

drops of water...

Teardrops of falling rain,

I know that Heaven's Glory

Will shine on me again.

Connie Goulding

Wrap Me in Blue

2011-10-23T08:35:00.001-07:00

Wrap Me in Blue

When I go to Heaven wrap me in blue;

The blue of a cloudless sky.

Blue as fresh as the morning dew,

As soft as the breath of a breeze.

A breeze that whispers of a faraway home,

Separated by space and time.

When I go to Heaven wrap me in blue;

Scented like high desert sage.

The iridescent blue of a song bird's wings,

Warmed by the summer sun's rays.

When I go to Heaven wrap me in blue,

Tied with an indigo bow.

When I go to Heaven wrap me in blue;

As strong as a Father's kind hands.

Blue as sweet as a Mother's prayers,

Whispered forever...no end.

When I go to Heaven wrap me in blue;

Enfold me in the arms of the Lamb.

--Connie Goulding

Therefore, eternity was our covering

and our rock and our salvation....

(Abraham 2:16)

My Paintings

2011-10-22T13:43:00.001-07:00

I Stand in a Holy Place

2011-10-22T13:25:00.002-07:00

I Stand in a Holy Place

I stand in a reverent place,

where whispering angels guide

the souls of the fallen,

the lost and the saved,

back into the Savior's embrace.

A place where the veil is holy,

and sacred and thin,

where Heaven and Earth reunite.

Where precious souls like

Aaron of old

are anointed and sanctified.

A place where families are united,

linked and sealed together

by the power that hung the stars.

Generations sealed by Love eternal.

I stand in the halls

where the Savior walks.

The place where He rests...

His throne.

The place of the soles of His feet.

I stand in a Holy place.

Connie Goulding
2011

Reaching Through The Cracks

2011-10-22T12:58:00.001-07:00

Reaching Through The Cracks

I awoke with a start. My chest was tight and my heart was racing. I struggled to catch my breath. I felt as if there was a great weight on my chest and as if I was drowning. As I looked around trying to gain my bearings, I realized I was safe in my warm bed, the morning light was just filtering in through my bedroom window.

Yet in the quiet of the morning my heart was pounding as if it would soon burst out of my chest, and I was filled with a dark feeling of impending doom. On my lips was the desperate cry for someone to help me. Then to my mind, the dream came rushing back.

In the dream I was walking through a large spacious room. The floor was covered with beautiful dark planks of wood. It was spotless and glowed with a dustless shine. To my left the walls were covered with a rich dark wood paneling. The room was so large that I didn't notice or couldn't see the far wall to my right. The room though large and richly appointed, seemed dim and partially in shadow, but I didn't think of that as being out of the ordinary.

In my dream I was walking carrying my youngest granddaughter, Haley in my arms. Haley and I were ahead of the rest of our family who were following us. Haley is a year and a half old and just learning to talk. I was pointing out many things in the room to her and saying the names to see if she would repeat them.

As we walked along we rounded a corner and walked into a room with beautiful cabinets along the walls. The cabinets reached from floor to ceiling. The cabinets on the bottom had dark wood doors with silver pulls. The doors on the top were of shinning glass trimmed in silver with silver nobs. Behind the glass were many beautiful things.

One of the things that stood out to me, behind one of the glass doors, was a beautiful blue dress, just Haley's size. As I looked at the dress and the many other wonderful things behind the glass the thought came to me that Melissa, Haley's mother, might feel left out if I continued to show all these things to baby Haley. The dress would be perfect for Christmas and by showing Haley these things I might be spoiling her Christmas surprise.

I paused and turned, intending to return to my family who were following us a short distance behind. Without warning, a young boy ran past me and through a door in a glass wall. The glass wall extended from the corner of the room with the cabinets and into the large room adjoining it, across the large room to the far wall that I couldn't quite make out because it was so far away.

Somehow instinctively I knew that the glass wall was a barrier and that I should not go past it. I opened the door and called for the little boy to come back. He continued into a brightly lit area and through another door in yet another glass wall. There seemed to be one glass wall after another separating the dark room where I was from the bright glowing space that the little boy had entered.

I continued to call after him to come back. But he never looked back. He seemed intent on making his way to some people in the distance who were dressed in white. They seemed to be involved in some kind of work but they looked up and greeted him as he came near.

Not knowing what to do and being unable to call the little boy back or to bring myself to cross the threshold into the brightly lit space, I turned and Haley and I proceeded to return to our family.

As I retraced my steps I met a man that I knew to be the grandfather of the little boy. He was looking for the little boy so I showed him where he had gone.

I didn't know if the grandfather followed the little boy or not, but he didn't seemed to be worried about him. I had the impression that the little boy was with his family who loved him and had been waiting for him.

I continued to make my way back to where my family was. On the way I came to a place that was narrow and I had to step around a great marble pillar. One of many that were holding up the ceiling. Directly in my path there was a great hole in the wood flooring. It was as if a pool had been cut into the floor, filled level to the floor with water and then clear glass laid over it.

I stood at the edge trying to decide if the glass had been designed to walk on. I could see air bubbles under the glass, but I couldn't tell if the glass would bear my weight if I walked on it, or if the glass was attached at the sides to the floor and was stable. Through the glass I could dimly see the bottom of the pool. It was very deep.

Being nervous about the depth of the pool and not wanting to take any chances with baby Haley, I stepped carefully around the pool and went to sit on a nearby bench.

Sitting on the bench playing with Haley, I noticed that my family were seated across the room at a table on the far side of the pool. I smiled and waved to them but I felt content to sit on the bench and play with Haley.

As we sat there I could hear the sound of running feet echoing off of the wood floor. I looked up to see who was coming. Suddenly a little girl, about two years old, with curly blond hair and fat rosy cheeks, darted around the large pillar at the edge of the pool. Before I could say anything to warn her or slow her down, she stepped on the edge of the glass covering the pool.

I sat there in shock as the glass tilted and the little girl lost her footing. I could see the panic on her face as she struggled to hold onto the smooth glass. She slid into the crack between glass and the floor and the water swirled around her.

By the time I reached the edge of the pool she had already sunk to the bottom. I could see her as she flailed her arms and legs in a useless effort to save herself. I stood at the edge of the pool still holding baby Haley, not knowing what to do. I looked to my family in an effort to alert them to the crisis. They had seen what had happened, but seemed to be in shock and unable to move.

That is when I awakened from the dream. What a terrible place to be in, standing on the edge of that deep watery trap watching a sweet little girl drown and being helpless to save her, being faced with the choice of putting my baby granddaughter on the edge of that awful place while I jumped into to save the other little girl. How could I just stand there and not do everything in my power to reach for the child who had no power to save herself and how could I put Haley in harm's way?

That is why when I awakened the words were on my lips, “Help me!” “Help me!” Not me, but these two little girls. “Help me to dive in and reach deep and pull that child to the surface before hope is lost!” “Help me to protect my granddaughter so that she won't stumble and fall into the same pit!”

I closed my eyes and tried to go back to my dream. Maybe I could rewrite the ending and change the outcome. It was no use. Every time I closed my eyes all I could see was the little girl's face as she desperately looked at me to save her as she slid off the glass and into the water.

Many times over the years I have had dreams that have influenced my life. I haven't looked at them as being prophetic or an omen of something to come. More like something to think about. They've changed my thinking about certain things and in changing my thinking they have changed my life.

I interpret different things in my dreams as symbolic of other things. Kind of like a visual language. Some of the symbols in this dream were easy for me to understand. Such as the large and spacious room. For me that symbolized the Earth and my time here. I was a visitor just walking through. It wasn't my home. I was interested in exploring and learning about the things in the large room, and I wanted to share that with my family. Especially my grandchildren. I suppose that I was excited to see the things that were ahead of me; that's why I was ahead of my family.

The room off to the side represented the spiritual blessings available to us while we are here on the Earth. They belong to our Heavenly Father, and if we want them we must purchase them by living the commandments. The blue dress was for a special occasion. The color blue to me signifies Eternity, Truth, and shielding protection like the shielding hand of God. The things like rich and beautiful things in the large room were there for everyone. Like the Earth itself and the things of the world.

When I saw the things in the smaller room I didn't want to be there without my family, so I turned back intending to find them and bring them there.

The layers of glass walls that divided the large, dimly lit room from the brightly lit area seem to me to be a classic symbol of the veil that divides this world from the world to come.

I thought my emotions interesting when the little boy ran past me and through the glass doors and into the bright area. At first I had the feeling that he wasn't supposed to go through the door and I called to him to come back.

As I watched him go through yet another glass door and never look back, my view of him became distorted by the distance and by the walls of glass. When I saw that he ran to, and was embraced by people dressed in white, I knew they had been waiting for him. I was left with a peaceful feeling, that he was where he was supposed to be.

In the area of light there was no place that was not filled with light, and there seemed to be no boundaries except for the glass walls that divided the place of light from the dimly lit room where I was.

The boy's grandfather wasn't necessarily any one individual person, but more representative of a past generation who followed or watched over the boy and cared about which way he went.

The large pillars were part of the foundation and they held up the building, or this world. They were the laws, the rules, the commandments. When the way becomes narrow and we step out around the pillars that hold everything up there might be pitfalls in our way.

The pool was a pitfall, a hazard along the way. The glass covering the pool was falsehood, lies and errors in thinking, to step there unsafe. If we can see through the glass then we can see into the depths of the trap. That is why we need discernment. We need to listen to the Spirit to help us see through things we may not be sure of.

Even baby Haley didn't necessarily represent my little granddaughter, but my children, my grandchildren and my future. I held her close to my heart, protected her, shared with her the beautiful things that I saw and tried to teach her. When I was faced with the terrible choice to put her down in an unprotected area close to danger, I could not.

The little girl who ran around the pillar and fell through the crack between the glass and the floor had no one to hold her up, to teach her or protect her. No one came after her.

Most of the time dreams are just dreams and I forget them but this time I could not go back to sleep. It was about 5:30 on a Thursday morning. Thursdays are my days to work as an ordinance worker in the St. George Temple. It is about a two hour drive from my home to St. George Temple and, as much as I love working in the Temple sometimes it can be a long day so I got up and got ready to go. As I drove, I thought about the dream, trying to make sense of it.

The dream continued to bother me every time I thought about it throughout the day. Who was the little girl? Who would save her? How could I save her? Why didn't someone else see what was happening and jump in? How could I stand on the side of that deep pool and watch as she struggled to live? If I jumped in, could I swim deep enough to rescue her? Every time I thought about it I got the chills and felt breathless all over again. How long did she have? Could I rescue her in time? Would I be trapped too? If I didn't do it, who would? Who will? What did it all mean? What was I supposed to learn from this?

One of my assignments that day was to spend an hour in the Celestial Room, the most beautiful and sacred room in the temple. In the quiet of the Celestial Room, I again pondered the meaning of my dream. I wondered who the little lost girl could be. What did this dream mean to my life and what was I supposed to learn from it.

After my assignment in the Celestial Room I was assigned to help by standing in as proxy for the daughters of families who were being sealed together in the sealing rooms of the temple. There was a couple who had brought in the names of a family to be sealed together. The wife explained that they had found a family where the mother and father had been sealed together, but none of the children had been sealed to their parents. As the names were being read I was amazed because the family names were the same as my mother's family name. The thought came to me that these were like the little girl who had fallen through the crack between the floor and the glass into the pool. They had fallen through the cracks and were lost souls who had been rescued and were being reunited with their families. I was filled with a warm feeling and a knowing that this was true. The family had searched for their family members, reached through and pulled them up with the saving ordinances of the Gospel, available only within the walls of the temple.

I left the temple that evening with a grateful heart that I had received a new insight into the state of the lost and the love Heavenly Father has for his children.

Still I thought about the little girl. Who was she and why had I had such an emotional feeling about her falling into the depths of the pool? Why was it me standing on the edge of the pool? How could I be of help to her? How could I rescue her? What was I supposed to learn?

The next morning I told my sister I would be able to work for her. She owns a small sandwich shop and needed my help waiting on customers and serving food.

It was early in the day and we weren't very busy. The only one there besides my sister and I, was my mother. She was sitting at one of the tables waiting for my dad to come have lunch with her.

The sandwich shop is an old building that my sister and her husband have restored and saved from many years of neglect. It has a comfortable old feeling and there's a sweet spirit about the place. There are six small tables with benches where people sit to enjoy their meal and along the front wall are large plate glass windows that look out onto the street.

As I was going about my work I looked up just in time to see a transient, or a man that my grandmother would have called a Hobo, walk off of the street and lean his heavily laden bike against the front of the building. The minute I saw him, I knew. . . I knew that he was the focus of my dream.

He walked in the door and straight to where I was standing. He said, “I'm homeless and I'm hungry.” I don't know if I even let him finish what he was saying. I asked him to sit at a table and he chose to sit a table in the middle of the room. I brought him a bowl of soup, some crackers and a pitcher of water. While he was eating, the missionary elders came into eat lunch, as they often do.

I couldn't help but notice the contrast between the homeless young man and the missionaries. Where one was dirty and unkempt, the others were bright and clean. The homeless young man seemed to be invisible to everyone in the room. He sat with his head down, his clothes, hair, and skin all seemed to be the color of dust. His clothes were bleached from many long days in the sun and he looked years beyond his age.

I felt like I was in that dream standing on the edge of that dark,deep pool. I walked over and asked the young man his name. He said “My name is Mike.” I asked him where he was coming from and a few other things. Then I said, “Mike this is my mother,” knowing that my mother was a friend to the down-trodden and friendless every where she went, all the while remembering that in my dream I had called to my family to help the little girl at the bottom of the pool.

My Mother smiled and shook Mike's hand, but soon my Dad came and they turned their attention back to their lunch.

Then I looked at the missionaries, the fishers of men, maybe they would see the invisible young man. They are good young men about their Father's business, but they didn't see him.

I took Mike another bowl of soup and asked him if he would like a soda. He looked at me with an apologetic look and said “I have no money.” I said “I know, but would you like a soda?” He paused for a minute and then told me he would like a Root Beer. I took Mike the soda and then went back to my work and as I worked I thought about the dream.

I knew that the little girl who had fallen through the crack between the glass and the floor represented Mike. I wondered what my Heavenly Father would have me do. And why I had this dream.

After Mike had finished eating he walked back to the kitchen to thank me for his meal. When I walked out to talk to him, I asked him if any one had ever given him a Book of Mormon. He looked at me as if he didn't understand. I asked him again, “Has any one ever given you a Book of Mormon?” “I have a King James Bible,” he said. “If I give you a Book of Mormon will you read it?” I asked. He looked into my eyes as if he were trying to see what my motives were.

I said, “ Mike, I've had a dream about you. You have fallen through the cracks, and there are people who care what happens to you.” His eyes filled up with tears and he looked at me for a long moment.

I found him a Book of Mormon in a box on the counter. The Missionaries left them there to be given to people who asked about the church. I opened the front cover of the book and wrote, “Mike, your Heavenly Father loves you and cares what happens to you,” then signed my name.

It was if we were standing in the light. I could feel the love that Heavenly Father had for Mike. It may seem odd that the symbol of a little curly haired, rosy cheeked, two year old girl who fell into a watery pit would apply to a homeless man with long hair, a sun-baked face and dirty clothes, but in that moment all of the earthly stains and sorrows were washed away and I saw Mike as Heavenly Father must see him. One of His beloved children, loved as a little child.

I don't know if this experience was for me or for Mike. I don't know if Heavenly Father put me in Mike's path to help him, or Mike in my path to help me. I do know that in my dream I had decided I couldn't stand by while that little girl struggled on the bottom of the pool and I hope that I will be able step up and do something even if no one else does.

I don't think that a couple of bowls of soup and some crackers were enough to save Mike. But I do know that the Savior Jesus Christ lives and loves each of us and cares about where we are going. He gave us the Gospel to show us the way back home and the Book of Mormon has changed many lives and been a life line that has reached through the cracks and pulled many lost souls out of the deep, just as it did five generations ago for my Great-grandfather, Warren Marshal Johnson. He was homeless, ill and left by the wayside by companions who didn't know if he would live or die.

It was through the kindness of strangers that he was found, fed, and nursed back to health. They gave him a Book of Mormon. He read it and it changed his life and it pointed his posterity to the path that has been marked to lead them home.

By Connie Goulding

Oct. 2011

Paint Me A Picture

2011-10-22T12:54:00.001-07:00

Paint Me A Picture

Paint me a picture

with words chosen right.

Stack them together,

color them bright.

Paint me a picture,

make my heart sing.

With words strung together,

like pearls on a string.

Paint me a picture

with paper and pen.

Open your heart,

brighten the life of a friend.

Paint me a picture

with words clear and true.

Brighten the world

with the gifts God has given to you.

Connie Goulding
2011