Do Hard Things!

 

In our church, when boys turn 12, they get to pass the sacrament to the congregation. For one boy in our congregation, this was not a day he looked forward to. He was really nervous about it. To help him out, his dad stood with him. He'd follow him around the chapel and direct him to where he needed to go next. It was so heart-warming to see a dad support his son like that so that he could have the chance to do the things all the boys do.

I often think of this when I have to do things that are uncomfortable. Sometimes I think about it too much. In From Strength to Strength, the author talks about going ziplining as an older adult. He stood on the platform quite scared out of his wits. The young adult working there said to him, "Dude, don't think. Just do it!" 

I think that's a good motto for life. It seems like these days with all the concerns about mental health, we often don't push ourselves (or others) to do things that are hard...but we should do hard things! If we do not, we don't grow. 

The Chokecherry Christmas (by Janice Ackroyd)

 On a day before Christmas in 2018, Jim and I were planning to deliver plates of treats to the closest of our friends that evening and, as I was waking up that morning, into my mind came a scene I had witnessed at our ward party in September. We had a pancake breakfast outside at the Stake Centre pavillion and for a treat I took a jar of chokecherry syrup. Towards the end of the breakfast, I looked to where they were serving and saw Patrick Roach shaking the empty jar trying to get the very last drop of that syrup onto his pancake as if he would like to wring the jar. It made me laugh; I thought he must love chokecherry syrup very much.

We had at that time before Christmas, three very small jars of chokecherry syrup in the pantry. I had intended them to be jelly but they had refused to jell. I asked what he wanted to do with them since he is the one who loves chokecherry and he had asked for jelly. He said he thought I should empty the jars and cook it over. I thought about it, but knew if I was going to do jelly again, I would just start from scratch with chokecherry juice. I understood Jim's opinion since he had syrup already and wanted some jelly. I subsequently made new jelly and those small jars just sat there taking room in the pantry.

As I woke up that December morning with that vision of Patrick Roach in my head, it seemed like a sign. I decided that I could give him those jars to Patrick Roach. So, when I got up, I tied some curly red and green ribbon around the lid of each jar and stuck a Christmas sticker on top. Then I bagged them and added them to the collection of Christmas cookies we were taking out that night. It was dark when I rang the Roach's doorbell. When Tekarra came to the door, I held out the bag and said I had come to give it to Patrick. She called him and then looked into the bag. Her mouth fell open when she saw what was in there. With round eyes, she asked in wonderment, "How did you know?"

She told me that Patrick had lost his job  two years before and was having difficulty finding another. In addition, he had a serious helath problem and had just received some troubling news about it. As he and Tekarra drove home from the doctor's appointment, he had said, "For Christmas, all I want is chokecherry syrup." She tried to find some but it is not to be had commercially. She tried at least one friend whom she knew made it at home, but her friend had none. She went ot the grocery store to at least look. The closest thing she found was raspberry syrup, so she bought a jar. Patrick looked at it sadly and thanked her for trying, but raspberry was just not the same.

That was what she meant when she said, "How did you know?" I had to reply to her that I knew nothing about their situation, but God did and He also knew I had those three jars of syrup. He told me Patrick needed that syrup in a way I could understand. I said, "Patrick can be certain that God knows and loves him."

Tekarra has since told this story in Sunday School in our ward, once at a Stake Relief Society event, and at Good Sam's in Raymond when I was there for our Relief Society social this year. The Roaches consider this their Christmas miracle and revisit the story each Christmas. I take no credit at all for my part in it. Christmas is a time of miracles.

The Cold Cow Saga (by Janice Ackroyd)

 The time was Christmas 1968. We were newly married, for only two months. My parents wanted us to come for Christmas dinner; my mother was a marvelous cook and I couldn't miss her special dinner. Jim and I celebrated Christmas morning together opening gifts and remembering God's greatest gift to us. Then we set out for Scandia for dinner, to be about two o'clock.

The weather was terrible, a consistent minus 40, as it had been for three weeks. The heater in our car wasn't working so it was a cold trip from Calgary to Scandia. But we arrived safely and had a wonderful dinner and visit with my parents. We stayed for several days.

My father had had some real financial setbacks that had begun several years before while I was still in high school. There had appeared in the country a new form of blackleg which the vaccines we had given our cattle did not prevent. I remember him coming in from feeding the cattle many mornings dejected and discouraged, having found yet another steer dead in the feedlot, its leg stiffly in the air. In attempting to recover financially, he had purchased a couple of purebred Polled Herefore cows and a bull, no small investment, as purebred cattle were very expensive. His plan was to sell the offspring of these animals for prices sufficient to pay his debts. 

Besides the farm where we lived, my dad also owned a quarter section about a mile south. No one lived there but where he had cattle pastured. The next day after breakfast, my brother Herb, who had gone to the other farm to feed the cattle, came running in shouting for us to come and help. Two cows had fallen into the stock pond and he needed everyone. We thought that ice had formed on the pond overnight and, in an effort to get a drink of water, they had strayed onto the ice and fallen through. Herb was a big man, but not big enough to pull a cow out of the water by himself.

My dad, mom, Herb and Jim and I piled into vehicles and raced out. When we got there, we could see that my brother had roped the most valuable cow, the rope still around her neck. We all grabbed onto the rope and together we pulled, like a giant game of tug of water. It soon became obvious that the cow was winning. When we pulled, she just leaned back agains the rope and we were no match. It was so cold, and the water so cold that soon she began to just lie down; she had given up. We knew it was now hopeless. My dad called me to drive back to the house and call a couple of neighbors to see if anyone had a tractor that would start in the extreme cold. It seemed a last resort, and an unlikely one at best, because of the time it would take, even if we were lucky enough to find an operating tractor.

I jumped into the car and started sobbing as I drove. I prayed with all my heart and pleased with Heavenly Father to help my dad. I said how much I loved him, that I had seen him help so many people, and though he didn't attend meetings, his heart was right and he had always done everything he could to support me and others who needed help. I really pleaded with Him to somehow help that cow to safety because only He could.

When I got to the house, I phoned the closest neighbors and did find one with a tractor, but he said itw as so cold they hadn't been able to get it to start. I went to deliver the bad news. When I got to the pond, everyone was standing together in wonder and not saying much. I was astounded to see that both cows were gone from the pond. When I asked what happened, someone explained with great wonder, that suddenly the cow that we had been pulling on had just stood up and climbed out of the water and up the bank of the pond. They still couldn't believe or explain it. After that, they roped the other cow and together, with her trying to help, got out too.

Anyone who has worked with cows knows that once that cow started to lie down in the water, the chances of getting her out were next to nil. Only God could do it. It was truly a Christmas miracle and an answer to my heartfelt cry for help. 

Just Give It A Try

Recently, it was announced that our superintendent is retiring. I was excited to hear this news. Then I felt a little guilty about being excited. It wasn't because I delight in our superintendent leaving. I think he's a really great guy actually. One thing I have always appreciated about him is that he actually knows my name! However, I do always really look forward to changes like this though because it's exciting to see the dominoes fall....assuming someone within the organization is chosen as the new superintendent. Time will tell! 

How do you respond to change? 

Do you get angry and talk about how the changemakers are wrong? 

Do you grumble when you have to do things differently?

Could you hold off and give it a try?

When I was 12, I graduated from primary, the children's program at church. Usually, all the girls who had turned 12 then started to volunteer in the nursery. They loved helping adults look after the babies. This was my plan. I was really looking forward to it. However, the powers that be asked if I would be the pianist for the children's singing time. I was not impressed. 

I had started taking piano lessons when I was 8. I was not a gifted pianist and I knew that accompanying singing time would require some work and practice. At that time, primary was after school each day so my avoidance strategy was to just not come straight home from school. My mother took umbrage with this and gave me a LONG lecture about how she had paid for piano lessons and I was being disrespectful and no daughter of hers....you know how that goes. 

I started playing the piano for primary. 

I really don't even remember the experience of playing the piano there. Judging from seeing other people take on this assignment, my guess is I bumbled through a lot of songs and really wasn't very good at it. I'm sure there were plenty of people who could have done the job way better than I did. However, it was something that changed my life.

We moved away from that house to another province when I was 13. I continued to take piano lessons. I continued to accompany for various choirs and congregations at church. Eventually, I even played the organ for sacrament meetings. 

Fast forward to today. Accompanying on the piano is something that I can do on a second's notice. I am very comfortable with all the hymns and children's music. I also play the organ. I'm still no gfited pianist. I really don't practice enough and now and then I get asked to play songs that are beyond my skills or the time I have to practice. However, it doesn't make me nervous and I can do it quite easily and readily. 

If I hadn't tried when I was 12, I wonder where I'd be now.

If you think something isn't worth your while, consider holding on to your reticence just for a moment. Keeping an open mind can pay off in the long run. Put your trust in God and just give it a try. He certainly has extended my abilities.

Word of the Year: Swing

“There is a thing that sometimes happens in rowing that is hard to achieve and hard to define. Many crews, even winning crews, never really find it. Others find it but can’t sustain it. It’s called ‘swing.’ It only happens when all eight oarsmen are rowing in such perfect unison that no single action by any one is out of synch with those of all the others….But the closer a crew can come to that ideal — maintaining a good swing while rowing at a high rate — the closer they are to rowing on another plane, the plane on which champions row.”

—Daniel James Brown, The Boys in the Boat

This year my word is "swing".  I was reminded of it when we went to see the movie, The Boys In the Boat, on Christmas day. I keep finding quotes that go well with it. It is about unity, mercy, kindness and understanding other people. 

The movie is about a rowing team from the University of Washington in the1930s. I read the book years ago and about 'swing', it says: 

There is a thing that sometimes happens that is hard to achieve and hard to define. It’s called “swing.” It happens only when all are rowing in such perfect unison that not a single action is out of sync.

Rowers must rein in their fierce independence and at the same time hold true to their individual capabilities. Races are not won by clones. Good crews are good blends—someone to lead the charge, someone to hold something in reserve, someone to fight the fight, someone to make peace. No rower is more valuable than another, all are assets to the boat, but if they are to row well together, each must adjust to the needs and capabilities of the others—the shorter-armed person reaching a little farther, the longer-armed person pulling in just a bit.

Differences can be turned to advantage instead of disadvantage. Only then will it feel as if the boat is moving on its own. Only then does pain entirely give way to exultation. Good “swing” feels like poetry. 

        Boys In The Boat (Daniel Brown), p. 161

By union of feeling, we obtain power with God

(Joseph Smith Papers, 9 June 1842)

Think of your [brothers and sisters] like unto yourselves, and be familiar with all and be free with your [mercy] that they may be rich like unto you.

- Jacob 2:17

Other people have been inspired by the concept of swing. I love the articles I've been finding. This one talks about how book clubs bring unity/swing to an organization:

As John Coleman explains in the Harvard Business Review, programs like One Network, One Book have significant benefits for large organizations: “The act of reading in community can help you read more deeply and better understand diverse perspectives.” At the same time, Coleman notes, the book discussions themselves empower employees to “build and reinforce relationships” that they otherwise might not form. Simply put, book clubs make an organization stronger.

An educational organization in Arizona talked about the swing that achieved through charter school organizations:. 

Here’s what I’ve seen “swing” look like in the highest-performing schools.

First, there’s a sense of unison. Teachers, students, parents, and administrators all share an understanding of what the school is about: what it values, how it plans to meet its goals, the strategies it uses to understand what works well in the building and what doesn’t. In these schools everything—whether instructional time or professional development or PTA fundraising—is organized to support specific, agreed-upon goals for teaching and learning.

Second, there’s a strong social fabric of trust. Everyone has total confidence that the others are pulling their weight. Everyone knows that if something goes wrong, they can count on the others to help fix it. At my sons’ elementary school, I knew that no matter what, my kids would be valued and smart people would find solutions to any challenges.

Third, there’s joy. No amount of strategic planning or performance evaluation or project-based curricula can succeed in a school where kids don’t feel good about themselves, their class, or schoolmates, where their teachers just punch a timesheet rather than inspire in their students a hunger for intellectualism and learning, where parents feel disconnected or unwelcome. I’ve been in both joyful schools and joyless schools; the difference is immediately apparent.

Professional organizations talk about the importance of unity and work towards achieving swing. 

Enter

You sen

https://heartheboatsing.com/2018/03/08/pulling-against-the-stream-historic-images-of-womens-rowing/

Swing means taking one for the team like Jolien Boumkwo, a Belgian shotputter who ran the hurdles so that her team wouldn't get disqualified at the European Championships in Poland (June 2023). The athletes who normally run the hurdles had been injured so she did it to keep her team in the tournament.