December 31, 1977 — My first date with Alan. We spent the night dancing, even won a trophy!
August 5, 1978 — Alan and I were married in the Washington D.C. Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
December 2, 2016 — For a few months over thirty-eight years, living as one, we laughed, cried, prayed, traveled, studied, breathed, strengthened, and devoted ourselves to each other, raising our family of six girls and two boys and putting each other first. Almost always together, we thrived in love. Then without warning, life happens…so does trying to figure out what now as I hug the children, comforting them before again sinking into his bed to touch the only man I ever loved up till that moment. His last breath at 11:25 a.m. echoes still; he is gone.
Feeling very much alone, I only recall a couple of old friends reaching out and few people talking to me in the days, weeks, months, and years that passed. Keeping busy with financial items, taking an extended sick leave from work, and struggling with decision-making, I fall into a routine of hollow yet, essential choices. Finally, giving up my full-time job for a relief (call-in) position at the same library and plunging into volunteer work, I concentrate, avoiding facing my new reality. Keep busy; focus, became my mantra, but it hurt. I did everything possible to hide my tears and feelings.
February 4, 2017 — Rebekah is on the Serenade of the Seas with me, Alan is gone, and I am waking up each day with a certain numbness in peace. It was supposed to be our third cruise. We meet a chef who becomes my best friend, confidante, encouraging voice, as I open up to him, and comforter during difficult times. Joseph brings laughter, hope, refreshing perspective, vision, hidden/unknown/unrealized talents of mine to light, and precious friendship into my life. My heart opens. I care and dream, more as time continues, to find my heart and mind turning to security in the impossible possibility. I once again feel cared about, liked, safe, and an interesting woman to a man. Something is happening in my heart, pangs I try to suppress, not very well though.
Approaching four years as a widow, a single woman, one who loves deeply, loyally, and with all my being, my heart aches like never before some days. Most days, I feel happy. Then a trigger, like an exploding stick of dynamite, tears through my heart, and I ache, with every part of my body, to turn in my bed, touch the face of a man who wraps his arms around me, hugs me, relishes my kisses morning and night, loves me and who I confide my dreams, thoughts, and love to, and for him.
My last four years run the gamut of emotions, facts, and fantasy anywhere and everywhere in between paralyzing shock, sadness, peace, comfort, happiness, and joy as I struggle, fight, kick, claw, climb, hang, and look heavenward for relief, factually and figuratively.
This year, 2020, in particular, brought me to depths unimaginable, excruciating heartache, debilitating depression, and monumental mountaintops of indescribable blissful joy. Living for over two months, in, on, and next to mountains, lakes, waterfalls, and forests provide temporal and spiritual enlightenment. Constant security in my life remains with very few cherished, dear friends, family, and a personal relationship with my Savior, Jesus Christ (growing relative to my desires for divine guidance). Albertan vistas etch my heart and mind with symbolism divine to teach me in vividness what I know as truth, bringing me to a greater understanding of the incomprehensible.
I remember a time Alan asking me if I have ever experienced a ‘Gethsemane’ time. He never explained what brought his upon him, but it was evident something traumatic precipitated great appreciation for the suffering of Christ in that garden of anguish. Alan felt a weighted burden, strength, and resolution. I have my own experience as I contemplate my choices and needs, as I learn about myself.
I am not strong or courageous without Him. I am weak, feeble-kneed, and stumble on myself often, especially with my eagerness and impetuous nature. He lifts me. He heals me. He needs me to make choices and act with integrity and virtuous thoughts. He takes me as I am, then allows my experiences to lead me into His outstretched arms where His grace erases faults to make me wholly welcome in the mansion He prepares.
Have you ever felt burdened by grief, sin, depression, guilt, pain, hurt, offense, worry, heartache, or dragged down to your knees in pleading petitions and supplications for the ability to overcome, withstand, feel lightened, comforted, happy, peaceful, or buoyed up?
Angels come in hours of sincerity, providing strengthening power in miraculous ways. Quite often, they are quiet moments of feeling loved and watched over from realms beyond mortal eyes. Other times, they are people I need in my life. I strive for receptiveness and recognition of these angels bringing great blessings in my petitions for myself and on behalf of those I love. That is the glorious offering of Gethsemane.
I reverently stood in stillness outside the eastern walls of Jerusalem in the Garden of Gethsemane last fall. Slowly walking while pondering, I visualized that sacred night many times as I read scriptures and wept tears, knowing I contributed to His burden. Here, I imagine myself as an unseen witness hidden behind fragrant olive trees. Then through tears of joy, humbly bow my grateful head in prayerful thanksgiving for His willingness to drink that bitter cup under the most painfully excruciating act of love.
The following words of prose flew from mind to pen while I immersed myself in nature, climbing mountains, hiking forested trails, and paddling surrounded by mountains. Most came with the rhythm of a waterfall I sat beside with my scriptures on a Sunday at Elbow Falls. I had been pondering every day in my explorations and amazement. With tears of grief and joy, I reflect on the gifts my Redeemer offers me; eternal life, peace, joy, and hope in resurrection. Without His infinite sacrifice, I am lost.
I invite you to peer through my carefully guarded blinds and witness a selection of intimate, solemn moments. They are sacred to me. I am trusting your honest heart as I nervously exhibit nakedness in my suffering and personal relationship with Jesus Christ, my Redeemer, Savior, Friend, Deliverer, the Son of God, my Heavenly Father.
Gethsemane
A place of sorrow, of teared supplication,
reprieve for the lonely and broken-hearted.
There, the off’ring to downtrodden wanderers;
a healing balm removes all infirmities
and afflictions of body, mind or spirit.
Groaning in agony past comprehension,
the firstborn of the Father burdened for me,
becomes my mediator, friend, and Lord supreme.
I stand all amazed at this great sacrifice,
by both the Father and the Son, all for me.
“My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even
unto death: tarry ye here, and watch with me.” (Matthew 26:38)
In solemnity of prayer, He bows Himself.
“Father, the hour is come; glorify thy Son,
that thy Son also may glorify thee:
As thou hast given him power over all
flesh … And this is life eternal, that they might
know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ,
whom thou hast sent. …
“Sanctify them through the truth: Thy word is truth.” (John 17:1-3, 17)
“Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove
this cup from me: nevertheless not my will,
but thine, be done. And there appeared an angel
unto him from heaven, strengthening him.
… in an agony he prayed more earnestly:
And his sweat was as it were great drops of blood … (Luke 22:42-44)
In my Gethsemane hungry, parched, and sore,
I lay crumpled in an ashen heap of guilt.
Scorched; purged by afflictions’ refining furnace.
In holy prayer, He kneels over my remains.
He feels and knows truth, my heart intimately.
Hungering for spiritual nourishment,
I lay my burdens, sorrows, and all my joys
at His willing hands. The moisture from His tears,
He mixes with mine to form miraculous dew,
healing my sores. I owe Him all my life
and love, my breath, and gratitude; I know not
how to process the unfathomable peace.
A place of unconditional love, and peace,
where praises of grateful thanksgiving give voice.
His supplications, extend past space and time,
reveal the nature of supreme divinity.
Until that night, a humble olive garden
harvested of fruit, now consecrated ground.
A place of remembrance for His teachings: Life.
A place for self-examining solitude,
of reverential listening to His voice
amidst the turmoil and strife bringing me down,
on my knees. Seeking His face, touching His brow,
wrapped in strong arms of tender mercies and grace,
Together we weep, then wipe away all tears.
A place of humble submission for all.
When in the gall of paralyzing darkness,
under shrouded loneliness weighted with chains
of impenetrable heartache, He sends light
for my fight. Clawing slowly, reaching, grasping,
gingerly stepping, sturdy rock crevices
bear my burdened soul, strengthening my resolve.
Following the light He emits, beckoning,
“Come. Follow me.” I bow my head, ashamed. Tears
of comforting hope flow like a waterfall.
Overwhelming, filling a reflective pool
of sparkling, crystal clear unconditional love,
I rest, submersed in His glorious promise.
The greatest gift, given freely, at extreme
cost. The Sinless One invites the penitent
hearts to trust. Unimaginable realms of
glory await those of clean hands and pure heart. (Psalm 24:4)
The blessed miracle of this sacred ground
requires a contrite heart, believing follower.
Gethsemane, a gift of loving mercy,
redeems me from exquisite torment and binds
me to my Savior, the Beloved Son of God.
From blindness caused by doubt, fear, and unbelief;
He performs miracles of life-giving sight.
Gently, the carpenter’s examining hands,
touching, sifting dross, scooping, and protecting,
His tears, flowing like a river, quench my thirst.
Cleansing with His blood, purifying whiteness;
my soul finds comforting peace and sweetest joy
while miraculously fleeing, by His pow’r,
from otherwise impenetrable dungeons.
Forgiveness unlocks the gates to love and life.
Rising like a Phoenix within the hollow
of in His hands, He feathers my wings for flight.
“For God so loved the world that He gave His
Only Begotten Son, that whosoever
believeth in him, should not perish, but have
everlasting life.” (John 3:16)
Look skyward and gaze upon the watching stars.
Humbly kneel in the garden of bloodstained love
where excruciating pain heavily weighs.
Softly touch the gnarled trunk rooting you to Him.
Close your eyes, inhale the fragrance of olives.
Hear the whispering thread of eternal life
stitching wounds. Invisible now, the scars of grief,
loneliness, heartbreak, disappointment, hurt, and
battered lives tell a story of surviving
through the torrential rains and thriving with faith.
Bringing grateful smiles for release from hell’s dark
prison, the Light of the World feeds my hunger.
Eagerly I bathe in His well of living
water, quenching my thirst for comforting peace.
He calls to me from bounteous green pastures,
from sparkling waters, rippling, serene, and calm.
Mountain peaks, ridges, trails, and staggering heights
beckon me to hearken as all nature sighs.
Life Happens …so does Enlightenment
The following sideshow comprises images from the Garden of Gethsemane (taken in September 2019) and a collection of selfies (when you are alone it is the only way to capture my mood) as I experience enlightenment, peace, comfort, amazement, gratitude, contemplation while in Alberta and British Columbia (August-Oct 4, 2020). Perhaps you can imagine your reverence, peace, gratitude, and amazement upon contemplating the love of God and His Son, Jesus Christ.
