Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #36

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on predators and a mother’s protective instinct. It is lambing season here and everywhere we look, we are enchanted by the spectacle playing out around us. Each day, as we notice countless wobbly little bundles of wool perched precariously upon spindly matchstick legs, we marvel at the miracle of birth and we are touched by the tender care that these new mothers exhibit towards their babies.  It is a magical time here in New Zealand and we are grateful to participate, if only as spectators.

Watching the lambs instinctively tending to their offspring, it occurred to me that these particular sheep do not know just how fortunate they are. There are no natural predators in New Zealand. These new mothers have the luxury of watching their children cavort happily in the paddocks without the concern of being too anxious over their safety. In truth the most pressing concern one new mother experienced was the presence of two camera-wielding Americans who were clicking away on the other side of a fence. It was clear that we were making her uncomfortable, so we drove away, leaving her to focus on her twins in private. These new mothers don’t have much to worry about, and I wish that I could say the same for human parents.

What would it be like if we humans did not have to worry about predators where our own children are concerned? What if the world were a safer place? What if we weren’t constantly concerned about the physical safety of our kids? What if we didn’t fret over broken bones and broken hearts? What if we could just sit back and watch?

There have been times in the growing up years of my sons, when I found myself wishing that I did not have to worry so much, but that is what human mothers do best, isn’t it? I remember looking into the bassinette, where my week-old son, Jared was swaddled, sleeping peacefully, and thinking naively that I would never worry more about him than I did at that moment. Thankfully, I could not see far enough into the future to know what it would be like to experience being awakened at 2:00 in the morning nineteen years later by a voice in the dark saying simply “ Mom and Dad, I think you had better wake up”. In those few seconds before turning on the light, fear and dread washed through my brain. What had happened? There was no mistaking that something was wrong! Then, a calmness settled as I struggled to wake fully. My mind was sleepily processing the situation and I reminded myself that whatever had happened, my son was home. He was home and because I knew where he was and that he was talking, I would be able to cope with whatever had taken place. It was the single most reassuring thought that I have ever experienced as a mother. My son was home and at that moment, nothing else mattered.

To make a long story a little shorter, earlier that evening Jared had been in a serious automobile accident. He had lost control of his vehicle on a dark, snow covered mountain road in Park City and he and his little white car had ended up in a river. Fortunately members of his band had been following him and were quick to the rescue. The car did not survive, but my son did and for that I will be forever grateful. I am so thankful for the calm reassuring feeling that settled over me that morning in the dark, as I realized that my son was home. That feeling epitomizes my experience with motherhood.

I should make it perfectly clear here, that my sons have given my very little to worry about, but I have worried just the same. It’s one of the things that I do best. I have not stopped being concerned for them, even though they are grown men. I want them to always be healthy and happy and if I had my choice (and I don’t!) they would still be coming down the stairs for breakfast and sharing with me their plans for the day. I miss the everydayness of our earlier lives together, but they chose to grow up instead of staying little boys and I miss them.

So, as I watch those new mothers being so relaxed around their little lambs, I envy them in a way for their lack of angst. They will never have to worry about so many unsavory elements of today’s society. They will not spend one moment concerned over hurt feelings or broken hearts. They will not lose sleep when their lambs come home later than they should. They will not worry that they are lost. But I do not envy the fact that their babies will grow up so quickly and sooner than later, they will all forget that they are related. I am grateful that I have loved my children enough to be constantly worried about them. I am glad, that for a season, I was their protector.

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. Once a mother, always a mother and I suppose I will always be looking for another little lamb to watch over. One of our little lambs here, is young mother Rana, who will be baptized next Saturday and we are so happy for the peace that has come into her life as she has made decisions that will help her to provide a better life for herself as well as for that of her young daughter. We are going to enjoy watching her learn to walk on her new wobbly spiritual legs as she makes her way in her new life. We will be there to help her up if she falls, and soon enough, she will find that she won’t need us quite as much as she did. That’s just what parenting is all about, isn’t it?

Love, Ward and Susan     Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

These babies are less than ten minutes old. The lamb in the foreground has not yet tried to stand. That is his hind leg stretching out behind him.

Newly-born lambs stay very close to their mothers.

 Twins!

These babies instinctively know where to look for their first meal. Mom is licking them clean.  

The twins are bathed and ready to face the world

This whole paddock was full of mothers and their children

Kindergarten is open!

Rana will be baptized on Saturday and her baby girl will be blessed next month!

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #35

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on why I am writing a love letter to another man. As I endeavor to put my tender feelings into words, my husband is quietly reading in another room, totally unaware that I am openly expressing my undying love and devotion to someone else.

Almost three weeks ago, I received a short, very sobering message from my dear friend, Wendy. Her husband, Bob, had suffered a Hemorrhagic stroke and was in the hospital. The situation was dire and the outcome and prognosis were unpredictable. One thing at that moment seemed clear; Bob’s life and the lives of those who loved him would be forever altered. As I ruminated on the situation and my general sense of helplessness, my unease grew as I realized that I might never have another chance to tell Bob how much I love him. I may have lost the opportunity of thanking him for the positive, caring influence he has been in my life. I am especially grateful for the thoughtful concern he showed me a few years ago when my life took an unexpected turn for the difficult.

If I were to describe Bob, I might suggest that he is a tender- hearted teddy bear tucked inside a grizzly bear’s outsides. He is a “say-what-he-thinks” kind of guy who can sound a little harsh at times. I will readily admit that when I first encountered Bob over thirty years ago, his directness frightened me. I was fearful of his temper and the eruptions that seemed to be a byproduct of him losing it. At that point, I did not know his heart, but I do now. It is experiencing his heart that has prompted me to write this week’s blog in the form of a letter to my friend Bob.

 

Dear Bob,

I was so distressed to hear of your stroke and the accompanying challenges that you are facing. When Ward and I departed for New Zealand, we were well aware that things could and would not stay the same while we were away. We understood that some of those close to us would have difficulties and possibly there would be some who had said goodbye to us who would not be waiting to say hello when we returned. We knew all of this, but were unwilling to attach a name or a face to any of those possibilities. Now we see your face as we pray for you and your family and hope for a recovery.

This letter is to thank you for all that you have done for me over the years. I know that you and Wendy often quietly go about the business of helping others without them knowing it, but I wanted you to know that I am very aware of what you have done for me and I am beyond grateful. You have been a dear friend and at some moments a protector, a rescuer, and a financial advisor; not to mention a sounding board. I have appreciated your advice and your offers of assistance. When my car died, you offered to go to the dealership with me and broker a deal. I was actually feeling sorry for the poor salesman who would never see you coming! When I was sorting finances after becoming single, you are the one who suggested ways to help me protect my savings. You let me cry in front of you and kindly offered to lend me your wife on occasion so that I could get away from it all. You listened and I am so grateful for your concern.

And then there was my most unusual, but most needed Christmas gift. After realizing that my old deadbolt locks were too worn to be activated by my sixty-three-year old house keys, and knowing that sometimes it took me almost half an hour to unlock my house, you were concerned. You were even more concerned when one cold rainy day in November you heard that I had been drenched while trying for twenty-five minutes to unlock my antiquated back door while standing in an icy downpour. This concern prompted you and Wendy to come up with the most thoughtful Christmas gift ever. Every time that I insert my shiny new key into my beautiful brushed bronze deadlocks, I think of you and your thoughtfulness. It is truly the gift that keeps on giving and I can never thank you enough for the peace that those new locks brought to me when not much else was feeling peaceful. Those locks are symbolic of the strength of our friendship and I am grateful.

As I think of you and the challenges that lie ahead, I am reminded of the time that I walked into your kitchen and once again saw you pouring over your scriptures while seated at the breakfast table. When I remarked that it seemed like you had been doing that a lot lately, you simply replied that you were studying for your finals. I smiled when you said that, but at the same time, I was touched that you had attached such importance to learning all that you could in preparation for moving on one day. I am grateful for your quiet example.

Thank you for sharing your stories, your condo, your wife and your life with me. Thank you for being patient when I visited possibly a little too often and stayed a little too late as I found myself needing someone to talk to. Thank you for understanding and possibly remembering what is was like to find yourself in a place that you never expected to be. Thank you for telling me that I would survive. At the risk of inflating your ego, I will simply express my gratitude and tell you that you were right (again!).

It breaks my heart to know that you are not as well as you were when we left you and I wish that there was something more that I could do for you. Please consider this letter a long-distance hug from the other side of the world and know that we love you and are keeping you and your family in our prayers. You have been a constant in my life and I have always known that if I needed anything, you and Wendy would be there.

We love you and miss you and I hope that you will not be upset that I have shared some private feelings in a less than private forum. It’s just possible that my letter to you may remind others that there are people in their lives as well for whom they should be expressing gratitude. Perhaps I will be composing more notes like this one, but for now, yours is the one that feels most urgent. It is the one that I most anxiously wish to send. If I were home, I would probably be baking you a treat and you would be reminding me that you love desserts as your grandmother used to include them in every meal she cooked for you. You might then, even include a story or two about your adventures in Cody, Wyoming. You seemed to enjoy those stories that took you back home and I enjoyed listening to them.  Ward sends his love as well and we want you to know that yours is one of the faces that we are missing most at this moment.

Love, Ward and Susan      Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

 

We Love you Bob! xoxoxoxoxoxo

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 # 34

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts concerning what I learned while baking a cake. Two weeks ago, the young sister missionaries called to ask if I knew anything about floral arranging. The sisters were helping a young couple plan a budget-minded wedding and they were looking for flowers and someone to help display them artistically. While I was quick to admit that I knew very little about arranging, I did offer them free access to any flowers that were currently blooming in our garden. As that phone call ended, I turned to Ward and expressed my relief that I was not going to be expected to pull a rabbit out of the hat. While I am always happy to be of service, I was grateful that I was not going to suffer the stress of performing a particular task without proper qualifications and experience. I remember mentioning something to him about having dodged that particular bullet and voicing relief that they hadn’t asked me to supply the wedding cake!

Early the next morning, the phone rang again and this time, that bullet made a direct hit. The sisters were now begging for a wedding cake! While promising the bride that they could not guarantee anything elaborate, as the baker was a novice, they still suggested that a carrot cake would be most welcome and the bride had requested three tiers! My dreams of providing a simple 9x13 cake quickly dissolved as I was also told that there would be eighty guests! Had I been at home in Utah, a request of this nature would have been paralyzing, even though I might have had access to proper equipment. The same request being made in a small farming town in New Zealand, without the proper tools was beyond debilitating! I had no idea where to start or how to go about the task. As concerned as I became for my own sanity in this situation, my concern over disappointing the bride was overwhelming.

Over the years, as I have been hired to fashion many wedding dresses. I have often experienced moments of doubt over my ability to produce a beautiful custom gown. But my concern or self-doubt was always buoyed up by the fact that I knew that I had the experience and training to figure out a workable solution. I would always start from the point of what the finished dress should look like, then working backwards, I was able to visually plot out what the steps would be in creating. I had faith that the answers would come as I needed them and that faith was backed up with many years of success. I am more than willing to admit, that I always prayed over those dresses, as I always felt that I could use all the help that I could get!

So, remembering the first act that I always took with my bridal gowns, I decided that I should begin my task the same way that I had always done before. I prayed for guidance and a clear mind. I prayed that clarity of thought would lead me to workable solutions and that my service would be pleasing to the young couple. I prayed for inspiration. And, having had some experience with prayers being answered. I had faith that direction would come. I was also praying that those answers would come quickly! I prayed for knowledge and the ability to use the gifts that I had been given to serve someone else. I prayed that previous experience and knowledge would come to the forefront of my mind and that I would be able to perform well. At first, I thought that I was asking for a miracle, then I felt reminded that my experiences could be instrumental in the “miracle” that I was praying for. I was reminded to listen and be quiet enough to hear. So I began to listen and I moved forward. I am willing to admit that while my faith in myself was a little shaky, my faith that prayers would be answered was steadfast.

I have found in my life, that seeking knowledge through prayer and from others who are wiser and more experienced is the key to my learning. I have learned to ponder things out through my mind with full faith that answers will come. I have learned to cherish this process while being willing to admit that I need help. Admitting that I need help is not a sign of weakness. Rather, I believe that it is a hallmark of real faith. I have also learned that we are expected to use our talents, whether they are in the developmental stage or not, to serve others. I have learned to be open and to listen. I have learned to act upon what I have been prompted to do. I know that it doesn’t matter whether I am seeking direction on baking a wedding cake or help in making a life-altering decision. If I ask, there will be an answer. It’s that simple.

So, without going into great detail, my prayers were answered and the direction I needed came in amazing and timely ways .Very early in the morning on the day before I was to bake the cake, I was awakened with the thought to go on u-tube and watch a wedding cake tutorial. I have never watched u-tube, so this was not something I would have thought to do on my own. Answers came, including my finding containers in the kitchen that worked well for the size tiers that I needed. Early the day of the wedding, the rain and wind stopped and beautiful flowers appeared ready for the picking. The tiers were supported by dowels that Ward located in a hardware store and I used a plastic bag to do a little decorative piping.  We managed to deliver the cake safely despite bumpy roads and logging trucks bearing down on us. I was relieved, the bride was thrilled and there was enough cake to feed everyone.

While a cake may not play into someone else’s testimony of the power of prayer, it does in mine. Once again, as in many other times in my life, I prayed for direction and that direction appeared. As I sat with that cake perched precariously on my lap in the car on the way to the reception, I had the opportunity to consider how precariously we may find ourselves perched in life from time to time. I have learned to do in my life what I did with the cake that day; hold on for the ride, keep my eyes focused ahead of me and pray that I arrive safely and in one piece. 

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. We are grateful for all of you who have been supportive of us in the past. Many of you have been answers to our prayers and we have faith that you will always be there for us. And should you need a wedding cake in the future, I will be happy to direct you to the nearest bakery!

Love Ward and Susan,  Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

 It's a miracle! The cake is finished!

 

 

Perhaps I should be wearing a smile or a little makeup. But I was tired and relieved. 

 All of the flowers came out of our garden. 

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #33

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with a departure from the norm.  Usually, I would create our blog, hoping that my words would possibly strike some sort of responsive cord in the reader. We would add a few photos to aid in your visualization and then I would close by expressing my gratitude that all of you are part of our lives. As I viewed the myriad of images that I wished to include this week, I realized that very little text was needed as the children spoke for themselves. So, by way of a simple tutorial, may I just explain that the body of these photos were taken at an area gathering located in the tiny village of Te Araroa. It was a Sunday morning and the special conference afforded the opportunity for a reunion. Tents were erected, as the tiny chapel could not possibly accommodate so many visitors. It was a beautiful day and the joy was palpable as old friends greeted each other. I have often said, or rather warned, that when we finally leave this island, there will be one less child in residence. That one child will be tucked away in my suitcase as I return home with the sweetest of souvenirs. Perhaps, as you pour over the faces of these charming children, you may want to imagine which one of them you would tuck away in your luggage if you were given the chance to spirit one of them away with you. 

May I just mention, also, that most of these children are considered to be full-blooded Maori, although eye and hair color may surprise you. Many have an European ancestor or two tucked away in the family tree and that relative has added to the gene pool in lovely and exotic ways. 

This is Kahu. We were privileged to teach him before he was baptized.

This is Andres. It was cold and Andres came to our home for FHE "rugged up" to keep warm. He is wearing flannel pajamas, socks, and a hooded bathrobe. It is not at all unusual for sleepwear here to have a hood, so that one's head can be kept warm while sleeping. 

This is the Whanga family. Young John was our first baptism and we have grown to love this little group. Notice that of the three sisters in the front row, one is blond. In attempting to pronounce the family name, you might be interested to know that in Maori, the "wh" sounds like an "F". Also on a touching note, the baby was named "Halo" and she is a little angel! 

This is couple is blind. They know that their boys are beautiful, without ever having seen their little faces. 

Perhaps you may have picked out the child who has most captured your attention. As for me, I can say that while I have threatened to bring one of them home with me, I can assure all parents that their children are safe from kidnapping as Sister Belliston would not be able to choose one over another.

As usual, we are happy and trying to work hard. We have learned to love the people here, especially the little ones, and we hope that you have enjoyed to opportunity of looking into their faces. We can tell you, also, that we have missed the opportunity of looking at your faces and hope that you have realized just how much you are missed.

Love, Ward and Susan     Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #32

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with thoughts centered on what was almost lost. Last Saturday an eleven-year old child, after a disagreement with family members, tried to take her own life.  As you might imagine, this has been a distressing and distracting week for many, as those close to the family try to sort out and absorb the events leading up to this tragedy. Even though a life was not lost, it is tragic just the same, to know that suicide seemed a viable option to this young girl.

In a country where it is unlawful to leave children under the age of twelve alone at home, it is mind-boggling to imagine that a child, who is not even old enough to be left, would choose to make a decision that would absent her from her family forever. So, as her family, the church and her community, work together to address the root cause of her choice, I am struck by the enormous loss that that one choice would have represented.

When I was teaching Adult Roles at Bountiful High School, I remember having a discussion about suicide with my students. The focus of that discussion was a short statement that I had written on the board. “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” From the vantage point of adulthood, we learn that tomorrows offer solutions. We have learned that hope is a precious commodity and resiliency is a gift. We have learned just how far-reaching many decisions are and that none of us lives or acts in a vacuum. What we all do affects others in more ways than we can ever imagine.

The hurt that this young girl was intending to inflict on her family simply because she was upset would never go away. The lesson that she was trying to teach them would not be learned and in the place of parents regretting certain treatments as imagined by their daughter, grief would be their permanent instructor. 

This week, I have found that my thoughts have often been focused not so much on what the family would have lost had the attempt been successful, but rather on what precious moments that eleven-year old would have erased from her possibilities. I realize that since a child does not and cannot perceive the world in adult terms, there would be no way of her contemplating all that would be lost. Her focus was a very childlike aim to make her family feel sorry. How terribly and tragically short- sighted that sort of thinking is. How permanent that shortsightedness becomes.

Hamlet pondered whether to be or not and in the end, decided to be. Perhaps he considered all that would be missed, all that he would miss and hopefully, all who would miss him.

It’s windy in Gisborne today and if I were considering not being, I would hope that before making a decision I would remember how it feels to have the wind blow through my hair.  I would hope that I might consider how much I love a colorful fall afternoon and the nippiness in the air. I would hope that I might remember how lovely it is to bite into a crisp apple and how quiet an evening snowfall can be. I would not have missed being a mother for all of the world or to have been a part of my family. I would hope that I would not choose to prematurely sever relationships with people that I love. I would always choose to be, no matter what.

So, as I think about the young girl that everyone is praying for at this moment, I would pray that she chooses to stay on this planet thus enabling her to experience some of what my life has included. I also pray for her that she will stay with us so that she can find what joy there is in just being. I pray that she and her family find the peace that they so desperately need and in the finding, grow closer together. I am praying that she enjoys the fruits of living an ordinary life. I am praying that she will recognize the gift of life for the extraordinary blessing that it is. I am praying that she chooses to be.

As always, we are happy and trying to work hard. We have had reason this week, to reexamine and appreciate more fully the lives that we live and the people who and experiences that fill our days. We are grateful not to have lost them.

Love, Ward and Susan     Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New 

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #31

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on keeping your corners. As we have mentioned before, the roads here are narrow and winding. One can travel for many kilometers without seeing ahead in a straight line. It takes a steady hand, and deliberate attention to avoid coming into direct contact (crashing) with oncoming vehicles. When I was teaching, the drive from Salt Lake to Bountiful would take approximately twenty minutes, weather permitting. Traveling the same distance here, due to the topography, takes approximately forty five minutes! As you can imagine, there is the temptation to “speed” things along by taking those ever-present curves in a less than prudent manner.

         Every day, there are accidents, some more serious than others, caused by drivers who carelessly take chances on New Zealand roads. There is such a concern about this, that the government has erected sign after warning sign reminding drivers to be cautious. One sign simply says, “Slow down, what’s the hurry?” Another reminds drivers to think of others. Yet another suggests simply that other people make mistakes. In amongst all of these warnings there is one that has kept my attention every since we arrived. It shows a car on a curve. The car is actually crossing the center line and there is a large red diagonal bar that slashes across the whole photo. The warning: “Do Not Cut Corners!”

         On our narrow roads here, that warning is more than prophetic. If you are taking a blind curve while cutting the corner, the chances of your contributing to a disaster are pretty high. The message is clear. Cutting corners is dangerous!  It’s interesting to note that those caution signs concerning cutting corners outnumber all of the others two-to-one. It is ever so much smarter and safer to just follow the rules.

         In thinking about trying not to cut corners, it occurs to me how this rule of the road is also a wise adage for life in general. Just think of all that we miss when we cut off the corners! I have a mental image of my home without its corners. Wouldn’t it fall in on it’s self?  Before we left Salt Lake, a friend gave us some delicious triple chocolate brownies. I would have been so distressed if she had cut all of the corners off before delivering them. I would definitely have felt that something was missing! Imagine a road map with all of the corners missing. That map could leave us feeling lost and confused. Personally, I prefer all the corners I can get!

         When I first moved into my home, there was a woman who lived across the street from me. Barbara had two children; a son and a daughter and she was raising them as a single mother. In a horrific act of violence, her husband had been murdered while working the late shift in a convenience store in another state. Barbara moved home to be nearer to her mother in an attempt to give her children a life surrounded by family. I watched, year after year, as this single mother worked tirelessly to make a good life for her children.  I was impressed that Barbara did not cut corners when it came to providing for her family. Sometimes, when my husband was not going to be home for dinner, I used to serve what I called the “Let’s just have a hotdogs or something easy cause your dad isn’t here for dinner dinner”. The implication being that it wasn’t really dinner if dad wasn’t home and we were allowed to cut some corners. Does that make sense to anyone? It did to me at the time. I cut a few corners to make my life a little easier, or so I thought. By the way, those are not the dinners that my sons remember.

         One day as I was visiting with Barbara, I told her that I was impressed that she never seemed to cut corners on meals or during any sort of interaction with her children, knowing that she did not have the luxury of waiting for her husband to return to help with the family responsibilities. She told me something that I have never forgotten. She said that there was a lot of waste in cutting corners and who is to know what wonderful part of the day is lost by cutting if off. What an amazing lesson she taught me that day and it’s one that I cherish even now. The mental image that I carry with me now is one of a jar filled with corners. The corners are all blank, so I have no idea what they represent or what they could have contributed. They are all lost opportunities. Those opportunities are gone forever.

        Isn’t it interesting how a road sign in New Zealand and the memory of a friend from many years ago now merge to remind me of an invaluable life lesson. Cutting corners is in my opinion, not a recipe for success. I would rather have all of those corners included in my life, rather than tossed in a jar somewhere.

       As usual, we are happy and trying to work hard. We are so grateful that we have not been corners that you have cut from your lives. We are also grateful to a loving Heavenly Father and Savior who cut no corners where Their love for us is concerned.  We appreciate the good examples that you have set as you attempt to live full and enriching lives. We know that it is never too late to stop cutting corners and you just never know what you will gain in the process.

         Love, Ward and Susan     Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand

Adventures in Paradise Volume 2 #30

Kia ora! Our excellent adventure continues with some thoughts on perspective and how I learned a very valuable lesson this week on what is truly most important. This blog is less about New Zealand in particular than it is about what is meaningful in general. It is a lesson that I have been taught before, but a refresher course seemed to be in order as it appears that I still have much to learn on this subject. It’s also possible that I simply needed a little nudge in the memory department.

Before we arrived in New Zealand, I would often check the weather forecast by way of the internet. While I understood the universal symbols for rain and wind, I was perplexed by the temperature listings. I remember one day in particular, when the current Auckland temperature was announced as 16 degrees.  While I realized that there was a difference between our Fahrenheit and their Celsius, I had no real perspective on what 16 degrees would feel like. It was not until I actually physically experienced 16 degrees that I began to gain perspective on what constitutes a hot day and what would constitute a cold winter one. I learned a little jingle to help in shifting that perspective: 30 is hot, 20 is nice, 10 is cold and zero is ice! A bit of first-hand experience can go a long way in securing a modified perspective.

My perspective came crashing down around me when I read an e-mail from my son Travis last Sunday evening. Ward and I had just arrived home to Gisborne, after having spent a lovely weekend in Auckland and Hamilton. We had been privileged to participate in a conference with one our church’s twelve apostles, Elder Quentin L. Cook. It had been a touching, spiritual visit and that coupled by the fact that we had spent time with friends and young missionaries that we hadn’t seen in a while, we were left feeling peaceful and relaxed. That was, until the moment that I opened a message from my son. It read: “Something really weird is going on here.”

It’s difficult not to panic or have ones imagination run rampant when receiving such a message. Due to the time difference between New Zealand and Utah, my panic rose, and I was afraid that I would not be able to reach my son as it would be the middle of the night in Salt Lake. My discomfort was growing as I considered the possibility that I would have to sleep with my mounting anxiety until morning. I was beside myself and the knot that had been forming in my stomach was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute! I had no information on what sort of situation that word “weird” encompassed. Was something wrong with my son, my family or a friend? Had there been an accident? Knowing that it had been unusually windy, I wondered if something had happened related to the weather. Did that one descriptive word imply something earth-shattering or simply something unusual? My brain pistons were firing way too quickly for comfort and I was beyond frightened.

When I finally reached my son, nothing he said was making me feel any more relaxed. He related, with a photo included, that “something” or things had taken up residence in my home. The physical evidence in the photo was stomach wrenching and I began to envision just what permanent damage might have been done. While I was mulling over the possibilities, Travis mentioned that this situation was not even the weird thing that he had alluded to in his message. When he went to turn on the lights to gain greater perspective into our resident squatters, the lights starting humming, then grew dim and finally he noticed the adapter box connected to the downstairs TV was smoking. Having turned off all power to the house, Travis was waiting for his mother, ten thousand miles away, to assess the situation and make a decision on what to do next! To add to the frustration, it was now early Sunday morning in Utah and we would have to wait until Monday to contact the exterminator as well as an electrician. There was real concern that there was the possibility of a fire or that the house would need to be torn apart to facilitate new wiring. I was frustrated by the time frame as well as the distance and consumed by worry about what damage had and was being done to a home that I loved. I was tearful and feeling like my world as I knew it had come crashing down. There was also the concern about making long distant decisions and a real fear that my bank account, such as it was would be depleted. At that moment, I lost perspective, and could not imagine anything that could be worse than losing that home.

In my prayers that evening, I did have the presence of mind not to ask for a safe house. Rather I prayed for peace and a calm perspective. I was grateful that two people that I trusted would be helping me to solve the problems. Having just prayed for peace and a calm demeanor, I still found myself falling to sleep amid dreams of impending disaster. I was still concerned about the permanent damage that might have been caused by our invading house guests. I worried that either the house would burn down (which would actually have solved the critter problem) or that being in need of rewiring, my home would have to be torn apart. I closed my eyes that evening, accompanied by dreams of what could happen in the worst case.

The next morning upon awaking and becoming fully aware, I was struck by how peaceful I felt. It was not necessarily an everything will be okay with the house feeling, rather it was a distinct answer to the last question of the evening before. I realized that a worst case situation would not involve the loss of my home; rather it would involve the loss of people that I love who had been a part of that house. It would involve the loss of my faith and the loss of my direction. I realized with clarity that I would be able to accept and handle any problem relating to brick and mortar, but I would not be able to accept the loss of those people and principles that are the structure of my life. Putting everything into perspective, I realized that I could weather the loss of a building, but not a loss of those things that my life is built upon.

So, almost as a postscript, I will thank my friend and neighbor Jeannette Flamming for calling the exterminator. Thank you, Jeannette, for handling guests who entered my house uninvited through my dryer vent. Knowing that you are always there caretaking is a huge blessing for me. Thanks to my son, Travis, who turned off all of the power until an electrician could arrive. He had his own set of nightmares concerning his “inheritance” going up in smoke and I am sorry for his lost sleep. I was able to communicate with him instantly during the electricians visit, so we shared a giant sigh of relief when we were collectively informed that squirrels had eaten their way through an external neutral wire, thus causing the internal electrical problems. Thanks to Rocky Mountain Power for coming so quickly to replace that wire. Shakespeare said that alls well that ends well and I will agree with that! Once again, I have been reminded to keep things in perspective. You can’t take it with you, but relationships can last forever.

As always we are happy and trying to work hard. We weren’t given a new perspective, we just need slight readjustments to our old one. We are grateful for the lessons that we have been taught this week and are so thankful that all of you are part of that slightly revamped perspective. We value the relationships that we have with you and should you need a good exterminator or a superb electrician, we would be happy to share our recommendations with you! And instead of our posting photos this week, please picture in your own minds those experiences and people that you value most from your perspective.

Love, Ward and Susan    Elder and Sister Belliston, serving in Gisborne, New Zealand