The Best Year of My Life

 2020 has been the best year of my life. I’m sad to see the end approaching and to see so many people complaining about it and focusing on the struggles and the loss. I don’t want to mislead anyone. I wasn’t immune to the bad things that have transpired this year. I shared the heartache of some major loss with my closest loved ones, but the togetherness that was forced upon us made it a little easier to face those experiences that would have come to pass no matter what we were going through in the world.

I was blessed to have my daughter and her husband move into the tiny house in our backyard in November 2019 so they could save money to buy their own house. When the lockdown was declared, we were all quarantined together, except for that first month when my husband was stuck in Peru with no way to leave and no idea when the situation would change. Tirzah and Bryan were disappointed when the house hunting experience proved more difficult than expected and extended their short stay to what is now a whole year, but being forced to take more time led them to decide to have a house built, something they had never considered before and now are very excited to see come to fruition. But their extended stay, I believe, has been a blessing to us all as we have had time to really get to know our new family member, and for him to get to know us, and for him to truly feel embedded in our family. Before they decided to move in, I had told Bryan I wanted him to feel as comfortable in our home as Tirzah does, and I think he does now.

So that whole Peru thing was a bit stressful, mostly for Fermin. I felt comfortable and at peace the entire time, probably because I knew before he left that it was going to happen. When he left, he said, “I’ll see you in two weeks,” and I replied, “Or a month.” The Spirit told me that things were going to get serious and travel was going to be restricted. That was on March 11^th. After I left him at the airport, I heard that flights from certain countries were being banned in the U.S. I picked up my phone to call and tell him not to go, but I saw the time and knew his flight had left about 20 minutes earlier. A few days later, he called to tell me Peru had stopped all travel and declared a lockdown. Just a couple of days after that, we were all told to stay home. He came home exactly a month after he left. But just because he was home didn’t mean we were no longer concerned with the situation in Peru. Most of his family lives there. That country was one of the worst hit for a long time, and his family suffered great loss with everyone else. I think a dozen of his family members have died now from COVID-19. His mother died after a three-week stay in the hospital when no one was able to see or talk to her. So even being stuck in Peru for a month was a great blessing for Fermin. He had one last month with his mother. People die all the time. The true tragedy of this time is that we are putting people away to die alone.

I read an article this morning about 2020 actually being four years. The writer divided the year into four periods: the death of an athlete and impeachment, the lockdown, the protests and violence, and the election. Well, okay, if you want to focus on the negative, I guess that’s a fair and disappointing assessment. I don’t want to comment on his choices or commentary. I want to share my own four years of 2020.

The first year for me was fun, family and fulfilled anticipation. In 2019, I was more excited for what was coming in 2020 than I was for Christmas, first time that ever happened in my 59 years on earth. In January, Fermin and I went on what could turn out to be our last cruise. In March, my sister and her family came to visit. They were visiting when the lockdown was announced. The timing on both of those events was very fortuitious. My greatest anticipation was for what the President of our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, had said would be an unforgettable and unique general conference in April. I was not disappointed. I loved the messages of that conference, just as I do those of every conference we have, which are held every year in April and October. (The October conference was even more enjoyable for me, because by that time, it was nice to have things go back to the old normal, which meant watching church on TV for two days, and the messages really spoke to me about what we’re going through and what is to come in the future.)

The second 2020 for me was vacation, relaxation and contemplation. I spent months just relaxing on my deck, in the hot tub, and in my personal backyard park.  For entertainment, I watched movies with the family in our garage that was converted into a home theater a few years back. Fermin has turned our home into a private resort for me. He knows what makes me happy and has provided exactly what I need to ward off anxiety and depression, which come so easily for me. I haven’t had to deal with those very much this year, maybe less than ever.  Not having obligations to go places and see people meant no anxiety. Being able to stay home and not participate in activities of any kind without feeling guilty was like a gift from heaven. I use all this time at home to do what I enjoy, which is read, listen to music, study the gospel and ponder and pray about what I’m learning.

My third 2020 was football, BYU and winning! Talk about bringing back the old normal. Watching football in the fall is my favorite thing to do every year. BYU not only won all but one game, but they won big in almost every game. It reminded me of when I first got hooked, back to when I had my season tickets to go watch Steve Young as the quarterback, back to when I heard a commentator say of the spectators who were not looking very excited, “They look like they’re used to winning.” We were used to winning. It was the normal for us Cougar fans. This year felt like old times.

My fourth 2020 of course is Christmas. Focusing on this holiday season puts my focus on what is most important in life. I work to remind myself that no matter how much I love the beautiful decorations, the music, the movies, and the presents, gifting more than receiving, the most important thing is the gift Heavenly Father gave to all of us, Jesus Christ, and the gifts that Christ continues to give us. I try to keep that foremost in my mind all year, but in the last part of each year, I find it’s just about the only thing in my mind, staying just behind any other thoughts I might be having.

I feel empathy for all those who have suffered this year, who have faced loss of any kind, who have struggled financially and may continue to do so. I pray for the return of all that everyone is missing. I pray for peace and hope for those who are lost in despair. And I pray for me to have the strength to endure all those things that stress me out when we return to normal. But I cannot join in the negativity that is about to show up on Facebook as everyone starts to talk about what a horrible year it’s been and how they hope 2021 will be better. I love, love, love what has happened to me this year. I’m a much better person, a much more relaxed person, and hopefully a more loving and understanding person. I pray that many people will be able to see this year as I do.

2020 — what an experience. What a ride. What a unique time to be alive.

Can we talk about racism?

 

I had an epiphany yesterday. I am currently transcribing a doctors’ conference that was held a couple of weeks ago, virtually, to amend their organization’s bylaws and constitution or whatever they call it. Much of what I heard them discussing yesterday was racism. At first I thought they were proof that there is no systemic racism, because the President and President-elect, who were the first to speak on it, are both black. But as I listened to what they all had to say, taking out all the anger and vitriol, I realized that there is a conversation and agreement that is needed in our society.

Laying aside politics, ignoring BLM, not making a statement on whether or not blacks are oppressed or the question of racism being systemic, not condemning any group, and not calling for any anti-police actions, the time has come to put racism on the public stage. I am among those who thought that was done already with the advancements made in the past, but having to listen closely to what was being said, because I was making a verbatim transcription, I finally saw the heart of the matter.

A woman spoke of something that happened to her husband in her presence years ago. My first thought was that it probably wouldn’t happen now, but the epiphany was that she still feels it. There is a residue of fear and apprehension that comes with having experienced persecution at the hands of those in authority, with the law behind them, having no regress. As long as there are people who fear it happening again with no lawful response, there is still need to make a change.

Recognizing that some will always have those personal thoughts and feelings, what is needed is a loud and united voice condemning the actions, recognizing that they did happen and shouldn’t have and that they cannot be allowed to happen again. The reason this is needed is twofold: one, to give those in fear of it the reassurance that society as a whole has their back in preventing racist acts; two, to put those with racist bigotry, or any other bigotry for that matter, in their hearts on notice that they are going to have to keep those feelings to themselves and not act on them because it won’t be tolerated.

A leader of my church spoke yesterday at BYU about the issue, and I’m sad to say that the reaction online from members of the church was very argumentative. He spoke of being united and loving one another and recognizing we are all children of God, members of the same family, letting go of what happened in the past so we can have a better present and future. He acknowledged the peaceful protests and the issue they brought to the forefront of the public discussion and basically said we have to look at this issue of racism separated from BLM, violent protests, political ideas and the presidential race that is currently underway. The responses did not put aside those things but insisted they are the issue. They are not. Those are separate and using the issue as an excuse or backdrop.

This conversation is being had. The peaceful protests worked. They got society’s attention. We are addressing the attitudes, thoughts and feelings. We have to put aside the hate and the attacks. I know that the group that is using this issue as a way to advance their cause is going to continue to cloud the issue, but those of us who are truly vested in a peaceful, lawful society where everyone feels valued and protected, need to acknowledge the feelings of those who still feel the sting and allow them to express that and just promise that we won’t allow it to happen again with seemingly silent approval. At the same time, we cannot respond to hate with hate, or we just add fuel to the fire. Peace, not anger; acceptance, not denial; understanding, not condemnation; love, not hate.

When I saw these two black leaders talking about systemic racism, I asked myself what is systemic racism. Maybe I don’t understand what that is since the system has allowed people of all races and ethnicities to excel and thrive. My definition of systemic is not that it is in the official organizations or systems of society, but that it is in the system of the human heart. It does exist, and always will. There will always be some who have these bigoted feelings and thoughts. No one can change that except for the individual. It is in their system. But we as a collective can systemically call them out as wrong and stand with those who have felt the sting, fear feeling the sting and desire to live free of that fear.

My First Hinge Point

Helaman  5:12

And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.

My spiritual journey started early in life.  My mother took me, my two brothers and one sister to church every now and then.  She had no attachment to the church we attended.  It was just the church my grandparents had picked.  I really didn’t know what the beliefs of that particular Protestant church were apparently, because when I witnessed a couple joining the church, I was taken aback by what the preacher said.  I was still quite young, not even a teenager.  This new couple stood in front of the congregation while the preacher read the formal doctrinal statement of the church, which included reference to everyone being born in sin.  When the preacher said we must all do something in life to overcome that original sin or we will go to hell, I remember thinking that he was saying that those who die as babies would go to hell, because they obviously did not have the chance to meet the requirements for forgiveness.  I looked at my mother sitting next to me and said, “I don’t believe that.”  

I don’t know if that had anything to do with the change in our church attendance, but after that Sunday, I no longer wanted to attend any meetings there.  At some point, my family started visiting various non-denominational churches, looking for something, but I was clueless as to what it was my mother was searching for.  I believed nobody knew the truth, and I had no desire to sit and listen to someone teaching me as though they did.  My mother believed that the non-denominational churches were admitting that no one knew the truth.  I was not finding the answers to my questions, so I started reading all kinds of books on religion, and the more I read, the more questions I had.  Being depressed at times, one of the biggest questions was, “Why am I going through this?”  In other words, what is the purpose of life?  I also wondered about where we came from and where we would go after life was over.  I believed no one had the answers, but I thought if I read enough and thought enough about it, I might get an idea as to what the answers might be.  

When I was 15 years old, I was in the tenth grade.  The previous year I had missed 30 days of school because of depression.  I was desperate for relief or at least knowledge.  I experienced the first hinge point of my life when I found it.  It was the beginning of everything I am now.  Even at that stage of my life, I somehow instinctively knew that the only way for me to learn the truth was through personal inspiration.  I was studying and pondering and praying without ever being told that was the way to get answers or even knowing that was what I was doing.  I was driven by the need to find a purpose in the pain of depression.  I was trying to determine why I had to suffer through this life and if it was worth it.  I never expected to find the answer that I eventually received.  I certainly did not expect to get it the way it came to me, and I never imagined it would have such a profound impact on my life.

It is incredible how vividly some events in life are ingrained on our memory.  It is not just a thought but more like a movie clip that plays when the moment is recalled.  They are not always the most important, exciting or breathtaking times in our lives.  They are more likely to be rather mundane and seem quite forgettable at the time that they take place, like taking a book off the top shelf in the religion section of my high school library.  I was looking for something for a class assignment.  I don’t remember the assignment or if I even found what I was looking for.  What I remember is seeing the Book of Mormon and wondering what it was.   I have a very clear vision of myself standing there and reading the introduction to the book.  When I read that it had come from an angel, I thought, “If that’s true, this is very important.”  Since I was a reader, I knew that I had to read it to find out if it was true.  

I checked the book out and started to read it as I would any book, cover to cover, whenever I could, as fast as I could.  I read it when I finished my class assignments.  I read it while waiting for the bus after school.  I read it at home.  I found it easy to read and very exciting.  In fact, I had to share it with someone, so I told a friend about everything I read.  She never showed any interest, but that had no apparent effect on my enthusiasm.  I remember telling my mother about Helaman and the warriors who could not be killed.  I thought that was amazing.  Every story I read seemed to touch my heart.  Nothing I had read before had ever affected me like this, but I thought it was just a great book, the best I had ever read, until I read the promise in the last chapter of the book. 

Moroni 10:4-5

And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.  And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.  

As a missionary, I was asked if someone can know the Book of Mormon is true without praying about it.  Yes, they can.  I did.  As soon as I read that passage of scripture, I knew that what I had been feeling as I read the book was the Holy Ghost telling me it was true.   When I read those verses, I felt the same excitement I had felt as I read the book.  I felt the intense warm feeling expanding and pulsating in my chest and knew it was the Holy Ghost.  I had never heard of the Holy Ghost witnessing of the truth in that manner before, but I knew it when I felt it.  I was astonished to realize that my expectation of reading and knowing if it were true was realized in such an undeniable and fantastic way.  It was the first truly spiritual experience of my life.  It was unforgettable.  Since then my testimony has been unshakeable.  No one could ever convince me that I was mistaken.  When the Holy Ghost lifts and fills your soul the way it did mine through the Book of Mormon, it is an experience that cannot be denied or forgotten.

I immediately told my mother that I wanted a copy of the book.  She started looking for it but couldn’t find it in any of our regular bookstores.  She went to a Christian bookstore and asked about it there.  That was a dead-end.  Then she saw a small announcement in the newspaper about the ward in our town dedicating a new chapel.  The address and phone number were included.  She called the church and asked how she could get a copy of the Book of Mormon.  The man who answered the phone told her he would send someone out.  The missionaries came to our house on Friday evening, October 22, 1976.   As a member of the marching band, I was at the high school football game that night.  

Sunday morning, October 24, I turned 16.  My mother came to my room and sat on my bed.  She said, “Happy birthday,” and gave me my present.  I opened the most inexpensive and most priceless present my mother has ever given me.  It was a Book of Mormon along with a Doctrine and Covenants and Pearl of Great Price.  I was so excited.  I asked, “Where did you find it?”  She told me about the missionaries and said they wanted to meet me.  Years later as a missionary, I realized how much they wanted to meet me.  At the time, however, I had no idea.  I was just thrilled to have the book that I knew had come to the earth by way of an angel.  

I was completely out of the habit of going to church by then and had not even thought of taking that step.  I had done the next best thing.  Earlier that month I had watched one Sunday session of General Conference on TV and was amazed at how positive, uplifting and relevant the messages were.  I met the missionaries the day after I turned 16, and when they told me I should go to church, I agreed to go.  I was ready to do whatever they said.  My mother, younger sister and I were all baptized on December 4, 1976.  

I still suffered depression after that.  In fact, there were times when it was much worse.  It seems knowing the answers to all those questions about the purpose of life does not end the depression.  Having the gift of the Holy Ghost does not end depression.  Righteous living and an eternal perspective do not even put an end to depression.  It could seem hopeless, but it is not.  There is a purpose to everything we go through in life, and thanks to finding the gospel of Jesus Christ, I was on my way to learning the purpose of my emotional weakness and how to handle it.