A Strange Way of Helping and Empanadas

 A THOUSAND MORNINGS
by Mary Oliver

All night my heart makes its way
however it can over the rough ground
of uncertainties, but only until night
meets and then is overwhelmed by
morning, the light deepening, the 
wind easing and just waiting, as I 
too wait (and when have I ever been 
disappointed?) for redbird to sing.

I chanced upon that after a sleepless, worry-filled night and felt a tiny glint of sunlight split the heavy clouds in my soul.

"[W]hen have I ever been disappointed?" Never. Even in the waiting. I do know "redbird" will eventually sing.

But I shall tell you a funny thing. On this particular morning, I felt like I just desperately needed someone to reach out to me with words of comfort. I didn't know what those comforting words should be. I just wanted Heavenly Father to acknowledge my need by sending someone to my aid with just the right inspiration. I even prayed and asked Him to.

And do you know what happened? Almost immediately a niece texted asking for help with a serious problem she was having. Hahah. I had a good cry and told Heavenly Father I didn't think I had it in me to help anyone at the moment but that I would try if He would help me. And then I did my best to comfort her.

This very same thing has happened several times before. I've prayed for someone to be sent to help me ... and someone is immediately sent to ask me for help. 

The Lord seems to have quite the sense-of-humor.

Another example?

When Starling was born, school mornings were so difficult--particularly just the business of driving the kids to school. Loading up a newborn and multiple toddlers (along with the school kids) with Starling inevitably crying to nurse (because I'd either had to wake her up to get her in the car or she'd already been waiting to eat while I helped get kids ready for school) just felt like such a difficult and hectic part of every day. 

I knew my ministering sister likely would be happy to know some way to help me. And she had a daughter she drove to school each morning. I should have just asked her to pick up my kids as well, but I was too embarrassed or proud and just couldn't bring myself to. Instead, I said a prayer and asked Heavenly Father if He would just plant that idea in her head, just nudge her to offer help in that way.

A day or two after offering that prayer, my ministering sister did reach out to me. She was having some back issues ... and wondered if I could pick her daughter up for school in the mornings for awhile.

Ohhh I chuckle just remembering it.

And I actually loved that ministering sister. I was happy to help while she struggled with issues of her own that I hadn't known about. 

Even still, I couldn't help but look sideways at the heavens and mumble, "Really, Heavenly Father?"

I don't know exactly why the Lord has occasionally chosen to respond to my pleas for help in this way.

Perhaps, each time, He was saying, "Oh buck up, Nancy. Things aren't as bad as you think. And you can do much more than you suppose."

Or perhaps it was just His knowledge that the best medicine for me would be to forget myself in helping another. 

Those things are both probably true.

But I have a feeling that it is something bigger than that. Something tied to heavenly law and blessings predicated on obedience. The feeling I have is that there are channels of blessing and strength that can only be opened upon our willing sacrifice and service to others and that when I have most needed serious help, God has not ignored my plea, rather, He has given me immediate opportunities that would then somehow allow me to claim and receive greater strength, answers, and help.

That's my thoughts on the matter.

And I should add that many times in my life I have had friends and family reach out to provide just the comfort and help I need, so it isn't as if God only responds by giving me a chore. Haha.

And now.

Empanada making:

Allred Ties and "Coincidence"

"Are you an Allred? You look just like the rest of your family!"

"Are you Tony's sister? We went to school together!"

"Is Dr. Allred your brother? He's my kids' pediatrician!"

"Is Gordon Allred your dad? I took biographical writing from him!"

"Oh are you Sharon's daughter? She's the most wonderful woman."

"Wait? Amy is your sister? Oh my goodness! She was in my last ward!"

Those unexpected connections have been, truly, a near constant occurrence in my life. (A teacher having taught siblings before me ["When I teach the last Allred, I quit!" one high-school history teacher wrote in red pen on one of my more exceptional essays], someone having read one of my dad's books and then made the connection to me, a stake president who grew up roaming the fields around Polk's End [the name bestowed on my childhood home] with my brother Rob, a friend's missionary son who is taken to dinner in TX by a "Brother Allred" that turns out to be my literal brother Aaron.)

And now, despite having no "Allred" moniker to obviously connect her to this side of her family, my Goldie has been experiencing this very same phenomenon! In Arkansas of all places!

Not long ago a visiting general authority came to her mission. Three missionaries were chosen ("at random" Goldie claims) to have an interview with him, and within very little time at all, they discovered that this general authority had been a student body officer with her Uncle John (my brother) back in high school. He knew my family and began reminiscing happily away with Goldie about her amazing grandparents who had opened their home to so many.

Only a few weeks later, Goldie emailed this crazy little experience to me and my mom:

Hey Grandma and Mom!

I've already got a lot to say in my main email this week, but I wanted to tell you about a cool experience I had! 

We walked up the stairs of an apartment building to see a man sitting out on his chair. Before we could say much at all he asked "you from Ogden?" I was delighted to say yes! After talking for a minute we made the connection of Weber State University. I knew it was a long shot but I couldn't help but blurt out "did you know Gordon Allred??" And he did! In fact, he worked side by side with him as an English professor. Many times in the following conversation he brought up what an excellent person he was. Incredibly respected and well loved, his classes always brimming with students. There was a lot to say about this good man. 

We left him a copy of the Book of Mormon, which he seemed very interested in studying. He said we could come back to talk about what he's learned. And he left us with a message to "tell the Allreds that Dr. Young wishes them well" I'm so grateful for Grandpa's ongoing example and the connections I've made because of this faith filled Allred family. And while nothing big came out of this meeting, I can't help but think that Grandpa Gordy sent me there.

Sure love you both and this family!!

Sister Harris

(Oh come on! Of course my dad lead Goldie there! What on earth are the chances that in some apartment building in Centerton, AR one of his old colleagues was living? One who had previously lived in Ogden without already having been a member of our church? And one that Goldie would "chance" upon in a city of 21,000?) 

These little unexpected ties and connections. 

These unlikely coincidences. 

I don't know. 

I think they are more than that. 

I don't know what exactly. If someone wanted some logical, well-expressed answer as to what I meant by "more", I would just sound bumbling.

But these things make me think of Elder Maxwell saying that what we call "coincidence" is actually "divine design" and President Monson saying "One day, when we look back at the seeming coincidences of our lives, we will realize that perhaps they weren't so coincidental after all".

There's something in these moments that makes me feel I'm catching tiny glimpses or flashes--lacking enough context to fully inform me about all that is going on--of God at work: weaving lives together, showing us that there is more significance in our connections than we could possibly guess, extending the influence of our sacrifices and imperfect offerings (like my parents' raising of so many children) much farther than they should possibly be able to extend. 

I don't know what any of it means! ... Only that ... it means something.

Elder Bednar once said that these tiny moments of surprise in timing and connection "do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence". He says, in fact, that it is the Lord's purposeful timing of these small mercies that is what makes it easier for us to "discern and acknowledge them". 

I just love the thought that, rather than feel we must dismiss coincidence, we can actually think that God made use of that tool for the express purpose of helping us notice His hand!

And speaking of those tiny types of coincidences, Goldie just got called to a new area of her mission--Salem, MO. 

She was a little nervous as she would be heading there with a brand-new missionary (rather than first adjusting to the area with a seasoned missionary who already knew the roads and people and various situations there). She'd heard mostly negative things about this place, but when she got there, she just felt so happy. Just immediately. It made me laugh when she first messaged me about it. "It's just the greatest place ever!!! ... Mostly trailer parks and very small run-down homes. And just the greatest people!!" And later, in her letter for the week, she said, "Salem is my happy place. If I think about it too long I start to tear up. ..."

Outwardly there appeared to be nothing to love at all about that tiny town. 

But she loves it. 

When she expressed all of this, it reminded me of this scripture from D&C 111 that I sent her:

And the place where it is my will that you should tarry, for the main, shall be signalized unto you by the peace and power of my Spirit, that shall flow unto you.

When her p-day came, and she could reply to me, she told me that she loved that verse I sent her so much and that she went to read the entire section after I sent it. She then said, "[D]id you see where it was given?? It's the coolest thing!!"

I didn't know. But I went and looked. 

It was given in another Salem!

To Goldie it felt such a confirmation that the Lord was telling her that her Salem was just where he wanted and had placed her right now. 

In other coincidental or non-coincidental news, before Goldie left on her mission, one of the things I felt to pray was that she would be a comforting and soothing presence to her companions. That she would say and do things that would help them not feel homesick. That by just being around her they would struggle less and be enabled to share their own gifts better. 

This may not be related, but I think it is interesting that nearly all of Goldie's companions have been brand new missionaries. She had one companion train her at the start, and one other who had been out awhile in another area she went to, but other than those two, every companion has been completely new to the mission!

And that's all for tonight!

A Little Angel Visit

I've written about angels before on this blog (here and here for instance, as well as in the end paragraphs of this post here). I love Elder Holland's reminder that "we need to speak of and believe in and bear testimony of the ministry of angels more than we sometimes do". I have a very strong testimony of angels--a certainty that friends, ancestors (some we remember and many we do not), and even posterity on the other side of the veil are constantly involved in God's work and purposes in our lives, and that, as Nephi tells us in 2 Ne. 32, they are able to speak words of comfort and words of Christ to us through the power of the Holy Ghost.

The other night, well after midnight and with sleep eluding me, I felt myself slipping towards the panic and illogic that can only properly assail you in that state of late-night sleeplessness. It was many things--worries about everything still needing organized for the upcoming Girls' Camp I am in charge of, intense parenting worries, etc., and I cried out to God almost, it felt, like Peter as he began to sink on Galilee; and, while my rescue was not, perhaps, quite so dramatic, I did feel an unexpectedly quick calm begin to settle on me. It seemed as though someone were smoothing back my hair (as a mother might do while soothing a troubled or ill child). And then I felt words--bathed in light--come to me. "It will all be all right." Over and over those words repeated themselves to me with a power they don't possess in and of themselves. And then, as I began to feel peace, an image came clearly into my mind. I saw my grandma's house--just her pretty back entry. I felt the familiarity of the surrounding thin iron railing we used to try and balance on and saw the rose garden to the side of her porch. I even recalled the exact look of the brown wooden box at the back of it. And then with that image and those words in my soul, I fell asleep--vaguely feeling that it must be my grandma who was comforting me.

The next morning, as I pondered the experience, and wondered if my conclusion that it was my grandma who had been sent to comfort me was real or part of my own fancying, I recalled that I had had another moment, years ago, of feeling that my grandma was near. It seemed to me that I'd had that experience at some point during my pregnancy with Hans (so sometime in late 2016 or early 2017). I found a journal with entries ranging from 2015 to 2018 and flipped it open; and do you know what entry it first landed on? That very entry about my grandma. I almost laughed out loud. It just seemed too impossible to be a coincidence and like it was a confirmation that it indeed was her. 

And then I recalled that for the past month I have actually been thinking gratefully of the help angels have been giving my family and praying that I might be more aware of that help and of who we are receiving that help from. (Because I want to feel the connection that exists with those loved ones and feel properly grateful for their involvement.) I also recalled that Shannon had told me only a week or two earlier to pay closer attention to small things that help me know who is blessing me. 

Anyway, that experience reminded me again of the reality of loved ones nearby and blessing us and being sent to pave paths for us. We don't always (or even often) get to feel them the way I did that night, but I believe they are there more than we could even hope. And it's just like God--who very well could do everything himself--to allow us to be a part of His work and to use us (whether in life or in death) to bless each other. What a lovely thing to be a part of.

"The Lord knows you ... He will send His angels before you. You will feel their presence." -- Elder Uchtdorf

Horse Buggy, Goat Pens, Sickness, and Almost Easter

Friday after school one of Jesse's Priests' Quorum leaders picked him up for an activity ... in this:

And then they spent several hours breaking up concrete with sledgehammers for the bishop.

Did I mention they made knives earlier in the week? And spent an evening last month packaging meat in a ward member's backyard meat packing establishment??

We're not in Kansas anymore, kids. (Or perhaps that's exactly where we are.) 

In other news, Mike was having trouble finding the breed of pig he wanted to get for the kids to raise for the fair, so they decided on goats. (Ah goats! Have you compared the smell of their pens to the smell of pig pens? It's enough to make you love them.)

This morning we went to the farm to measure some things to get their pen ready. (This granary/goat shelter? was from Mike's Uncle Jodie.)

Then we went to IFA to buy all the supplies. (And to get some farm overalls for me and, for the kids who needed them, some muck boots [rain boots, but, you know, for mucking around].)

And then Anders and I had a special appointment set to go to the temple together to do baptisms for the dead! Just the two of us! For some distant relatives I'd felt a miraculous hand in connecting with!

But instead, Anders began feeling violently ill and started throwing up as we drove back from IFA. So I took him home and spent the next few hours cleaning up repeated bouts of throw up and diarrhea while the others went back to work on goat stuff at the farm. 

And if that's not just how life goes then I don't know what is. 

My sisters and I had been texting a bit about our Easter weekends. Happy things. Kids in town. Vacations. New grandbabies. New goats. Accomplishments of children. Cheery photos of all these moments. And all those things were real. But also ... cleaning up my bathroom for 45 minutes from a violently ill child when I'd hoped to be at the temple was real. 

As I was telling one of my teens the other day (in regard to things far more complex than throw up): life is messy. It isn't tidy and simple. We make really awful mistakes. People we love do. We harm each other. We have hard hard things happen to us. It's fallen mortality. And amazing things and really really complicated and painful stuff exist all mingled together. 

But, though I might have liked Easter weekend to have only been the joyous things my sisters and I were sharing, the real reason I celebrate Easter is that I wholly trust a God who turns all of this mess to good in us and for us, who lets us become full of character and compassion and hope through the failures and the painful, and who has already paved the path for every bit of it to be mended and healed and overcome. All of it. I'm sure of that. That's just how great He is. And how much power He has. And how much He understands. And how much He loves us and knows how to guide us through. And I am so so glad that He is who I have yoked myself to and can depend on and get to even try and be a servant for. I love him so SO much. And perhaps, no, certainly, without all this complex and hard and painful and impossibly messy, I would never ever have known how great my Savior truly is, or how much I truly love Him, or how lucky I am to know He is who I follow and who I get to rely on and hope in.

"And the Lord gave them rest round about. ... There failed not ought of any good thing which the Lord had spoken unto the house of Israel; all came to pass."

Gingerbread Men, Scripture in Me and My Kids, Etc.

"Mom," Summer asked me, as we were driving somewhere the other day, "if you were older, but like not too old, and all your kids were grown, could you adopt a kid so you wouldn't be lonely?"

"Yah, I think you could," I responded.

Then I heard her muse to herself, "So you could just do that instead of make a gingerbread man."

"Who would just run away and get eaten by a fox," I added to her musings. :)

(Though I certainly wouldn't mind having a couple of tasty gingerbread folk along with these later-in-life babies of mine!)

I often pray that the things I teach my children will be in them. (I am no longer referring to gingerbread men who "run run" as fast as they can. :)) I don't care if they recall where the knowledge came from, I simply hope that somehow those things will be there--to grow and expand with the experiences they have, and to be called upon by the Spirit and woven together with scripture and other truths they learn and are taught by others.

Not often, but every once in a while, when I'm reading a mission letter or listening to a testimony or comment from one of my kids, I'll hear it: I'll catch a glimpse of my own testimony and assurances spoken in their own language and with their own understanding.

It comforts me that maybe God really is magnifying my stumbling and small efforts. And it brings to mind these hopeful words from Isaiah:

"My spirit that is upon thee, and my words which I have put in my mouth, shall not depart out of thy mouth, nor out of the mouth of thy seed, nor out of the mouth of thy seed's seed, saith the Lord, from henceforth and for ever."

And it makes me wonder how many of the truths that have become my very own ... have roots back in the things my parents taught and exemplified, and their parents before them, and their parents before them. ...

A woman spoke in our ward on Sunday. She spoke about the scriptures and of something her mother used to say to her that became "scripture" to her. As she talked, I recalled these words of promise to the early elders of the church as they headed out to teach:

"[T]hey shall speak as moved upon by the Holy Ghost. And whatsoever they shall speak when moved upon by the Holy Ghost shall be scripture, shall be the mind of the Lord, shall be the word of the Lord, shall be the voice of the Lord, and the power of God unto salvation."

I think Elder Teh summed up well what I feel and hope about all of this (scripture becoming our own and passing that to our children in how we speak so it becomes their own) when he said:

"[A]s we are increasingly coming to know the Savior, scriptural passages and the words of the prophets become so intimately meaningful to us that they become our own words. It is not about copying the words, feelings, and experiences of others as much as it is coming to know for ourselves, in our own unique way, by experimenting upon the word and receiving a witness from the Holy Ghost."

But! Back to the less serious. ...

Here is a birthday sign for Anders (from Abe) that I forgot to add to Anders' birthday post. 

And here Anders is with a nerf "gun" from a friend at school. We didn't even have a friend party. His friend just heard it was Anders' birthday and brought him a gift the next day. (And another friend brought him a giant cookie!) I am so so grateful for every kind kid and every person who has stepped out of their own comfort zone to make my kids feel comfortable and welcome here!

And, the electric fence is off for the next few months! Our landlord rented the field behind us to a woman who kept two horses (different from the herd of horses that were kept for some time in the field just beyond that), but she moves them during the winter months, and they've been gone for several weeks now. 

So, when our landlord (Chris) stopped by to winterize something the other day. I asked, "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you, do you still want that electric fence kept on now that the horses are gone? Or am I ok unplugging it?"

He gave me a slightly pained smile and replied, "Yah. You can unplug that. I thought it was already off actually ... and just found out the hard way that it wasn't." 

Hahaha. Poor fellow.

Anyway, with the fearsome fence off, my kids have been venturing much further afield:

(Much further. Anders and Hans told me their stuffed animals were exploring outer space when I asked what they were up to out there.)

Meanwhile:

Also, we almost missed (mist? haha hoho) the bus this morning. Usually the fog has faded by the time we walk to the bus stop, but not today!

We usually see the bus lights a full mile away, but we had no warning it was close at all until we suddenly saw it materialize through the mist--with us still a ways from it! (I should add: their pants. It was in fact pajama day.)

And we will end with this small hodgepodge:

Painted rocks.

At the farm to feed the geese. (Eek! That reminds me I need to get over there to get them fed again!)

A Christmas tree at the park. In October. (Who? Why?)

A lovely, artistic photo :) one of the kids took of my nightstand (after they'd knocked down the hummingbird Daisy needle-felted me).

Little friend ready to go in the stroller. (It's going to be tricky to get her to switch to wearing pants with winter approaching. She currently wears this dress, her pink dress, and, surprisingly, a red dress.)

The End.