October 20th--DELETE

IAT = I am thankful

Do NOT answer the phone! Ever.

It was dark. It was chilly at night. I had just come home from a typical day of classes and social activities and fun. I was a student at BYU and the phone was about to ring. A phone call that would change my life. If there were some kind of caller i.d. then that said, “don’t answer this call if you don’t want your everything to change forever,” I am sure I would have let it ring, and then not picked it up for oh say, the next 80 years.

It was a Wednesday. My roommate answered and handed me the phone. It was my Granny. We chit chatted for awhile and she talked to me about a new dress she was making for me. I loved talking to my Granny. She was a big part of my life, loving me as both grandmother, and sometimes surrogate mother. My parents separated when I was only five years old.

Then I was kidnapped, by my dad. (That’s a long story too). I grew up with him and my brother and had a mostly happy life. A mostly happy life without my mom. I had no idea this call was really about my mother. The dress discussion was winding down when an emergency call came in. 

Twenty-five years ago, there was no call waiting. So, if a phone call was really important; practically life threatening or of an emergency nature, you could call the operator and break through the busy signal.

The operator said this was an emergency call and could I please clear the line. Wow! an emergency call? Of course, I wondered what that was all about. And then my Granny dropped the news.

“Well Dawn, that’s probably your dad calling with some news. I thought I should be the one to tell you. Your mother’s attorneys called me today. They wanted us to know that your mother died.” Just like that. And then I dropped the phone.

This was the horrible, unexpected end of a new eighteen month relationship. As a freshman at BYU, I timidly began searching for my mother. It took a few phone calls to track her down, and when I finally did reach her and knew it was her voice, she did not believe it was me and I had to give some trivia about myself before she did believe it.

That led to an exchange of letters, our first visit over President’s Day, a summer job in California where I was able to see her a couple of more times, and more writing back and forth. She gave me gifts and began to tentatively hope that she had a daughter again; and maybe someday a son. I got to connect with my younger half-brother who I had briefly met when he, my mother, and her husband unexpectedly tried to see me when I was 13. A sweet little boy with clear brown eyes. He even helped me plan a stealth Mother’s Day visit when I had the summer job.

But the last six months, things had gone terribly wrong. She was diagnosed with breast cancer. I didn’t know much about that. My father’s family was pretty anti-medicine. My grandmother was a devout Christian Scientist. The only time I had ever been to the doctor was when I had pneumonia in second grade. I was in the hospital for three weeks. I don’t ever remember going back to a doctor until I was preparing to get married.

She had written with the news and the steps she’d had to take. I knew it was bad, but I did not really realize the weight of it for her. She had given other family news and I finally decided it was time to come clean and share my relationship with my family. Bad idea. The short story is, my family went nuts. My parents’ divorce was less than friendly. It was downright mean and ugly and my extended family must have still been feeling the effects of it over ten years later. I opened Pandora’s box. Nobody was happy. They came down on me from all sides. They were certain her only intent was to cause trouble.

The worst of it was the ultimatum from my father. End my relationship with my mother or suffer the consequences. Meaning, the relationship with my father would end. He said he’d send me cards, but no more support at school, and if he moved, I wouldn’t know where he was.

Have you ever been hit so hard in the stomach that you lose your breath? It felt kind of like that. I didn’t know what to think or do. I was angry, resentful, hurt beyond belief.  So I stewed. For weeks I wondered what I should do. So, I wrote my mother and told her what was going on. Back then, we did not have cell phones and we did not call long distance. It was expensive. I wrote.

How did I think she would take all that bad news? I don’t know. I was only nineteen. When you are nineteen, you do the best you can with these kinds of things. I had no idea how it was going to turn out. She was livid. And she called my family names. And there I was; caught between two people and my future. Which should I choose? The budding relationship with my angry, defensive mother? Or the safe, loving relationship with a father threatening to cut off everything I’d ever known? Piece of cake. NOT.

So, I compromised. After I compromised. At first, I was angry and wrote my dad a letter. Fine. Cut me off. See if I care. I can take care of myself. But I was afraid. I never gave him the letter. It’s still in my journal. But, I decided I would tell him it was over and then I would just write her now and then. That would be ok, wouldn’t it? It was near the end of the summer and time to head back to BYU. I should have let her know before I moved.

In the weeks that followed, getting back to BYU, moving into a new apartment and church family, and settling back into a routine, I figured I’d get around to it. Then September came. A miniscule whisper appeared in the back of my head.

It quietly said, “call your mother.”

Me: “I should call my mother.”

A few weeks later, it came a little more loudly, but still soft, “call your mother.”

Me: “Yep, I really need to tell her. I have to handle this carefully.”

The voice: (more urgently, a little louder) “call your mother.”

Me: “Ok, ok, I’ll call.”

I called. I got her answering machine. I left a message. I didn’t leave my new phone number. I didn’t even think about it. I didn’t even realize she didn’t have my number.

The voice continued. “Call your mother.”

Me: “I did call. I left a message.”

It became a drumbeat as October began. “Call your mother. Call your mother. Call your mother.” It got lost in the busy-ness of college, and youth, and inexperience….and regret.

The phone hit the floor and I did too. I collapsed in a heap and began screaming, “She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead!!!!!!!!” Even in the instant, I can still replay the seemingly super slow-mo reaction of my roommates. Puzzled looks, advances toward their ailing friend, and questions of “who, who?” I pleaded for them to get my friend Terrell. All I knew was I needed a blessing from a trusted friend. I needed someone to make this better. Nobody could ever make this better.

Camille, my best friend from my teens, later told me that she could hear me screaming INSIDE of Terrell’s house as he and his roommate Jeff rushed to my aid. When Terrell got in the door, he slipped underneath me and wrapped his arms around me and began rocking until my screams subsided into sobs and I was able to regain a portion of composure to receive a blessing. I’ll never remember the words they said, I only know they brought comfort. In the most desperate moment of my life, I was rescued by two worthy young priesthood holders who reached out to me in a crisis.

I was able to pull myself together and they went home and once again, the phone rang. This time I knew who it was, and what was wanted, and quite frankly I did not want to talk to him. But I answered. It took me years before I finally had the courage to say no to things I did not want to do.

“Hello.”

“Hi Dawnie, it’s Dad.”

“I know Dad. I just got off the phone with Granny.”

“Did she tell you?”

Through my tears. “Yes, Dad, she told me.”

“I’m so sorry honey.”

“No, Dad, you are not sorry.”

“Well honey, I’m going to let you go. Good-bye.”

I still didn’t know how, or why, or when. Nobody I knew seemed to have those answers. I called one of my dearest friends who used to be my young women’s leader. She gave me such loving comfort. And then I took a deep breath and called my grandmother. My grandmother. I didn’t even know her. What she told me made it much worse. My mother had taken her own life.

And it was all my fault.

It wasn’t all my fault, but it sure felt like it was.

In the quiet that fell over our house that night, I laid on the couch in the living room in the dark and felt nothing. Light streaming from the kitchen did nothing to make me feel better. My best friend, Camille came and sat at my side. She just sat, while I laid there. I don’t know how long she sat there, but it was a comfort that she said nothing, until I was ready to say something. And when I finally did, she helped me know it would be all right. Some day.

Right now though, it felt like nothing would ever be all right again. I didn’t listen. I didn’t call. We fought. She was gone. I could never get any of it back. It was all my fault.

The next few days were a blur. My bishop came to visit me. I planned the trip to California for the funeral. I met my family. My family. People I was supposed to know and love but didn’t. People who showed me kindness anyway. I felt so completely and totally all alone. The funeral was strange. Not that I had been to very many funerals, but it was not comforting at all. All I could think of is why isn’t Oh My Father part of it? I wanted to hear Oh My Father.

Then a ray of light. We were all at the cemetery for the small service there. It was time to leave. I wanted to say good bye. I bent over and put my head on the casket and cried. And in my heart I said, “I love you mom.” I had never said that to her since we had begun getting to know each other. “I’m going to miss you.” And then I stepped away from the casket.

I stood all by myself. And as I felt a wave of darkness and misery and loneliness begin to descend upon me, I felt something else. I literally felt as if the clouds parted, but there were no clouds. It felt as though a shaft of light fell upon me, but there was no shaft of light. I felt embraced in the arms of love. I felt heaven smile down upon me and I felt an outpouring; an abundance of love, that took me by surprise.

I wondered at it until I got back home. I had missed church that Sunday. My roommates told me the bishop had announced what had happened and he asked all of the ward members to pray for me. All of my young college friends were praying for me. When I heard that, I knew immediately, that it was the prayers of those friends and other friends and family I had felt in my desperate moment of need. I was so very grateful for those prayers and the comfort that came from them.

I had experienced answered prayers before. It was an answered prayer that took me to California for the summer job that allowed me to have some time to get to know my mother and my brother. But this was different. This was the first time I felt God’s love for me. Like I was something special? Yes, I was something special and God had shone His love down upon me. He knew ME. And He knew my needs. While at that moment, I am sure there were plenty of other people whose needs were being met, it felt like mine was the only one.

It’s 25 year later and many more experiences later, but it has only been the last few years that I have truly realized the love of my Savior and my Heavenly Father for me and for each and every one of His children. I am a daughter of God who loves me, and I love Him.

My most recent discovery is not only that I am His daughter, but I am His gift to the world. He has given me unique talents and abilities and placed me in a time and space, where I can have an influence for good. So it is, with each of his sons and daughters. That is my message. That YOU are God’s gift to the world. With that knowledge and the strength and power God gives you to go with it, you can do amazing things in His kingdom. It is my prayer that you will truly internalize who you are and be empowered to go forward and accomplish things never before seen in any other time in history.

 
*For anyone who knows my dad. He was a GOOD dad, and he did the things he thought were right under complicated circumstances and my life is BLESSED because of it. He was a mom and a dad to me and my brother and I am grateful.

Similar Wounds?

IAT = I am thankful

 that I am always learning.

Long ago, I had some scary things happen to me. Sorry, no details. Years later, I suffered from the memories. I was young, and a new mommy. I grew up without my own mommy. I couldn't tell the people I knew most, so it seems like I told everyone else. I went to counseling. None of it helped. As my suffering continued, I was pondering one day. This is what I heard. "Stop talking about it. When you do, you will stop suffering. Only share if it will help someone else." I was somewhat floored. That felt very right. So, I've only spoken of it since a handful of times, when, in a conversation, I have felt that same whisper say, "talk." I realized over time, that my suffering could help others if I listened to that still small voice.

I know I've mentioned on Facebook about my new coach training, but I don't think I have here. It's been a joy, and the principles I am learning make my heart sing. Two things that my wonderful coach trainer has repeated over and over; 1) Is anyone suffering from a similar wound? 2) If there is anyone I can serve, put them on my path.

The death of Robin Williams has left millions stunned and mourning over someone we did not know personally, but felt we did because he was our onscreen friend. I've been left wondering the last few days, if he could have reached deep within, and chosen differently, and asked himself, "Is anyone suffering from a similar wound, how many people could he have helped in his remaining years? So much joy comes from seeing others overcome, who we have helped. It's why I keep teaching and learning and reaching out to others. Because when I see someone suffering, and something I did helps them recover, I gain so much joy. I love it the most, when one of my children or other family members comes to me, and I can help them. 

There isn't a person on the planet who gets out of this world without some form of suffering. If you love, eventually you suffer. Some suffer so much more than others. Many sink into darkness at the thought that there is no meaning in suffering. But oh, there is! When we ask the question, is anyone suffering from a similar wound? Undoubtedly, we get a resounding yes, close to 100% of the time. If we can take that suffering and turn it into blessing? WOW! It gives the suffering real meaning and purpose.

Each day, I try to remember in prayer, if there is anyone I can serve, put them on my path. A few weeks ago, I gave a few dollars to someone begging. I thought that was my service for the day. No, It turned out not to be. For later that night, my darling daughter wanted to go swimming. She came in her swim suit all bubbly and excited. I DID NOT WANT TO GO. I tried to put her off, especially because it was raining. I did not want to swim in the rain. The words drifted from my mind, down into my heart, "if there is anyone I can serve, put them on my path. It's your daughter." With a sigh, I put on my suit and joined my family in the rain in the pool. And I had fun. Will it make a life changing difference for anyone? Probably not, but she was the one I was to serve that day. 

What have you suffered? Is anyone suffering from a similar wound? Find them, listen, share, help, love. Who is on your path today that you can serve? You'll love it when you find them. Sometimes it is life changing or life saving. Either way, you'll find meaning and purpose and you'll feel better.

Little Acts of Faith

IAT = I am thankful

when I listen to inspiration.

I've spent the last 4 months working on a very difficult transaction. It was awesome after fretting for so long with someone who has endured tragedy along with the fretting, to be rewarded for the sweat and tears. Fortunately no blood.

I spent several hours last week organizing, copying, and turning in the required paperwork. Yesterday, there was a check. HOORAY! But, there was one small thing missing from my file. When I went looking, the missing item, was something outside of my control. I had requested the very item months before. So, I called, email, and texted who I needed to, to get what I needed. Then I had to wait. Until the person responsible gave me what I needed. It was an extremely important thing and I had no ill will toward not being able to get my check. I knew in advance. It's always that way. But moreso on this particular item.

Sorry I can't be more specific. Anyway, that was yesterday. A text went out first thing this morning and I was assured it would be back by morning. After some lovely seminary and institute meetings this morning, I checked my email. Nothing. I sent another text. Nothing. We went to lunch. After lunch, nothing.

So, I dropped hubby back off at work, and told him, "I am driving to work, I am checking my email there as an act of faith, and I am picking up my check." As I turned the car toward work, I felt I should call my daughter and see if she wanted to take care of her high school schedule first. She did. So, I picked her up and took her to the school and took care of her classes. I checked my email. Nothing. I drove to work. I checked my email from the car. Nothing. I told her it would only take a minute.

I went upstairs, I talked to a co worker. I opened up my computer and logged on. I checked my email. I'm not kidding you. There it was! It made me so happy. I was inspired to take a tiny step of faith. I was inspired to take a detour. I followed my direction. And the moment after I checked my email in that parking lot, it came in. Right in time.

I learned two things today. Maybe more. First, faith is simple. We complicate it. Sometimes it is that easy. Maybe it is always that easy? Where it gets complicated is when we let our emotional need for our outcome to overwhelm what is best for us (God's will). Secondly, the information I needed may have shown up at the exact same time anyway. The difference is, instead of being frustrated and anxious and wondering when the other person would do what I needed, and why was there this rule anyway.....I focused on the act of faith I needed to do and acted on inspiration that really had nothing to do with the outcome. (My daughter's classes).

I know there is something else to learn from this, so I'll be pondering it. I want to be better at letting go of outcomes, and understanding that faith is rewarded no matter how it turns out. Either we do receive what we hope for, or we understand that what we did receive or did not, was the better thing for us to receive.

I believe in Miracles

IAT = I am thankful

For a trip I'll never forget. I am posting my daily gratitude under 100 happy days on Facebook.

Garden of Gethsemane. picture courtesy of Doug Holt

A year ago, we returned from the trip of a lifetime. For all of our married lives we have wanted to go to Israel. We had planned once and it fell through, and that opportunity which was at a time when it was much more affordable, never returned.

Then our dear friends who had been to Israel many times and led groups before, extended an invitation for us to join them. It was impossible. The trip would cost nearly $10,000. Or was it? I had been studying principles of success for many years. I had put into practice many of those principles on a smaller basis.

I envisioned (also took action) and received everything from a sack of tomatoes, to specific cars we wanted to purchase, to improvements in our income. No, it doesn't happen in the blink of an eye, and you cannot give up. You have to have a vision for a desired outcome and then you have to take every next step toward that vision with hope, and faith to accomplish it and NEVER GIVE UP.

But this....$10,000 for a trip??? Could we make THAT happen. We thought it was worth a try. So, we put our intention "out there" that it was the desire of our hearts to take this trip and study the principles that were the most important to us; with the most eternal significance.  We told our friends we would like to go, we would be praying it could happen, and they assured us, that our prayers would be answered if we held on to faith and that they would join their prayers with ours and they would see us on the trip.

The year before, I tested faith and success principles and achieved my very best month in real estate that I'd ever experienced. Could I do that again? We prayed, I worked. (My husband supports our family, my income helps with other things). Sometimes it just seemed like there was absolutely no way. Our lovely friends continued to encourage us to continue faithful.

We had a specific investment we were watching and waiting to change. We had no idea if it would work out. I had small successes in my real estate, but none like we needed. And we had a missionary out, minor medical issues, and the like.

I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that barely 2 weeks before our deadline to pay our first major portion of the trip, everything "magically" came into alignment. This was over a period of nearly a year. There is no way we could have planned the timing. We were elated that the many months of prayer and work came to fruition just as our friends believed it would. 

Because of that financial miracle in our lives, we now have a lifetime of sacred memories in a sacred land with wonderful people. I will never forget our experiences in the two gardens, at the Dome of the Rock, under the temple, at the Wall, at Corrie Ten Boom's tree, on the Sea of Galilee, in Lazarus' tomb, dressed as a Bedouin at lunch, atop the city ramparts, and many, many others.

The scriptures came to life for me. I am deeply saddened one year later, as I think back to our trip, that 2/3 of the population of Israel are in bomb shelters. I pray for Israel. I am grateful for "impossible" miracles. Thank you Halversons for your loving encouragement and example. What great children we have. They fended for themselves with a little help for 18 days and they gave up their vacation so we could go. Humble and grateful. The Lord cares about what we care about. I believe in miracles.

My Healing Journey

I was recently asked to contribute a chapter to a book on LDS healing arts. This is what I wrote. I don't know if anything or what will come from it. But this is my story with EFT.

Nearly eight years ago, I found a book on my bookshelf. My grandmother gave it to my father and somehow it landed on my book shelf. She wrote in the cover as a gift to him. “To my loving son. Read this, ponder every sentence. It’s a beautiful education. Love, Mother.” I wanted to know why he should ponder every sentence. I found out! The book’s title; As a Man Thinketh. I didn’t know that day, as I curled up on the couch to read it, how profoundly it would change me. This book, created a shift within and still takes me places I did not know I’d travel.  

"MAN'S mind may be likened to a garden, which may be intelligently cultivated or allowed to run wild; but whether cultivated or neglected, it must, and will, bring forth. If no useful seeds are put into it, then an abundance of useless weed-seeds will fall therein, and will continue to produce their kind.”

“Just as a gardener cultivates his plot, keeping it free from weeds, and growing the flowers and fruits which he requires, so may a man tend the garden of his mind, weeding out all the wrong, useless, and impure thoughts, and cultivating toward perfection the flowers and  fruits of right, useful, and pure thoughts."

At the time, personal concerns in my marriage, consumed me. I finally realized I created them in my own mind. Is my marriage perfect? Of course not. Am I married to a righteous man, who was also a loving husband and father? Yes I am. But the raging battle within me brought me much unhappiness. Enter the second book. 

My husband teaches seminary and institute. That summer for an upcoming leadership training we read the book, Leadership and Self-Deception. It made me mad! I wanted to blame the problems “we” (I) had, on him, but instead I realized that by blaming, I put myself in a box and objectified him so I could be right. Not helpful! I was so angry, but it was so true.

Around this same time, I saw references in various places to a technique called EFT or tapping. EFT stands for Emotional Freedom Techniques. I kept reading these amazing stories about this technique that frankly seemed unbelievable. Very open to alternative practices and natural health in general, I found myself skeptical. After reading Carol Tuttle’s book, Remembering Wholeness, and seeing other references, I finally went online and looked it up. Little did I know, my search for something to help me heal from the emotional turmoil over past hurts and traumas as a child and into young womanhood, was about to end.

I found a newsletter, lots of amazing stories, and hope. A generous offer on the site for DVD training, cost me only $150. My life has never been the same! Nor the lives of hundreds of other people I know and help. 

I seemed to learn step by step in a methodical way. My first experiences were physical healings through the proper use of EFT that I could not explain. Then I saw specific connections to physical and emotional symptoms. Next, tremendously emotionally charged experiences melted away. Then, a connection with emotions and spiritual issues as I intuitively combined “tapping” and praying together when needed. For myself I saw how spiritual issues could be healed more easily when faith is combined with this technique. If faith and fear cannot co-exist, then wouldn’t it help to resolve fears and worries with a simple technique so that your natural response is faith? EFT can and does do that.

In the beginning weeks, paradigm changing experiences so unsettled me that I spent a lot of time pondering, searching the scriptures, and talking to my husband, the new bishop of our ward. After much thought and prayer, I came to agree with my husband’s opinion, that this is simply another tool given to us by our Heavenly Father in our day to help. I could go to a doctor. I could go to a chiropractor. I could take prescriptions. I could seek herbal or nutritional healing. I could use this EFT to make a difference.

After that, I was all in. I began using EFT regularly with my own family. A healed hernia. An unexplained shoulder injury resolved and connected to an embarrassing experience with a friend, which led me to  seek forgiveness. Headaches and other pains resolved. My own emotional wounds began healing one by one. I resolved through prayer and tapping, which EFT is often called, the pain and trauma of my mother’s suicide. I also resolved my emotional hurt over abuses from family and strangers. Finally, I came to a very happy place in my marriage as the weight and burden of many emotional issues lifted. I even saw breast cancer risks that I was having measured every year and getting progressively worse, begin to reverse and improve.

Then the circle began to grow. Friends with traumas soon released those traumas. Unresolved physical pain resolved temporarily or permanently. Some conquered addictions. As my heart filled with joy at my own successes and the successes of others, my relationships strengthened, and I finally saw meaning in promises given in my patriarchal blessing that I never understood before. I would be able to use the gifts and talents that were mine, to help others progress in our Heavenly Father’s kingdom.

Because I feared being led astray, and I received a promise never to be led away by any outside force, I desired increased study in support of the actions I chose. As I sought truth, I could not find anything in the scriptures that cause me concern in regard to natural healing or EFT. 

I discovered through my years of reading piles of books and websites and teachers, that healing occurs on many levels. I believe they include: mental, emotional, physical, spiritual, and priesthood. Because I am a woman, I can rely on and suggest priesthood blessings to others, but I cannot offer them myself. So, on the occasion I need a priesthood blessing, or someone else does, of course I suggest that. While total healing on every level can come from a priesthood blessing, generally speaking, addressing healing on each of the other levels as well allows us to achieve all we can with the individual gifts we share.

Going back to As a Man Thinketh, we must address the thoughts in our heads that sabotage our lives. Mr. Allen also said, "Tell me what that is upon which you most frequently and intensely think, that to which, in your silent hours, your soul most naturally turns, and I will tell you to what place of pain or peace you are traveling, and whether you are growing into the likeness of the divine or the bestial." This reminds me a lot of President McKay’s statement, “You tell me what you think about when you do not have to think, and I’ll tell you what you are.” Our thoughts can and must change from negative to positive and multiple conference talks mention this. Mr. Allen is mentioned in Conference by Elder Wirthlin and Elder Perry. President Kimball also quoted him in The Miracle of Forgiveness.

Our hearts are a tricky thing. Our hearts “think.” See many references in the scriptures that speak of the “thoughts and intents of our hearts.” We think of the heart as the center of emotions. We can really get stuck in our emotions; in anger, frustration, hate, unforgiveness, pain, and hurt. What a discovery to realize that our emotions can get trapped in our bodies and cause physical symptoms. The brain, the heart, and neuroreceptors throughout the body connect our thoughts and emotions. (Read Molecules of Emotion, by Candace Pert) If we can quickly resolve the emotional hurts, the physical symptoms connected simply give way. It’s amazing how many emotional hurts can be discovered, and how easily they can be peeled back to find the true joy within us waiting to bubble up and overflow. If we can be hurt or damaged in a few moments, why can’t we also heal in a few moments? With the many healing tools we possess in this day and age, we can!

Physical symptoms are the easiest ones to identify. We notice our pains and limitations usually right away or when they reach a point of discomfort uncomfortable enough for us to take action. I find that our bodies often voice our emotions. It is amazing that if you just ponder the part affected and what it could say, the answers you get. For example, you discover a shoulder injury or pain, and you ask yourself or your shoulder what burden may be there (do we not “shoulder” burdens?) What answer comes? Then choose any number of techniques or healing processes to resolve the answers that you receive. Alternatively, if major issues arise with your feet, you could again ask yourself or your feet questions like; what path am I avoiding? What is keeping me from stepping forward? If we seek the Spirit when we ask these questions, the answers are often revelatory. Two books I found tremendously helpful to gain insights into the language of our bodies, are Feelings Buried Alive Never Die, by Karol Truman, and You Can Heal Your Life, by Louise Hay. The second book, not written by a member of our faith, nevertheless contains truth.

Finally, spiritual issues such as selfishness, resentment, greed, pride, guilt, and more, weigh us down, preventing us from the true potential our Heavenly Father gives us. It is natural to want to hang on to negative emotions and justify the way we feel or act. Our Heavenly Father knows that these are opportunities for growth and to become more like our Savior and to “receive his image in your countenance.” As we eliminate negative emotions one by one, and choose spiritual traits to replace them, we find the peace that passes all understanding. 

By methodically choosing to change and grow by healing on every level, we can reach a level of self-confidence that is available to all but sought by only a few. You can completely change your life with the help of your Heavenly Father, your Savior, your own gifts, and new healing technologies. I believe that our bodies respond to any attempts to improve. In many instances, “incurable” diseases easily heal when we seek it on every level; mental, emotional, physical, spiritual, and with the added strength of the priesthood.

Ultimately our bodies are designed to heal. Cuts and bruises resolve with little attention. I don’t classify myself as a healer because it is the body, and the Great Physician who does the healing. There is truth in every religion and much healing truth in every culture and tradition. There are also falsehoods in some cultures, religions, and traditions, so it is important to use discernment when looking at the many techniques available. We can implement these truths into our lives and hearts. If we seek the Spirit and do not violate scriptural or prophetic warnings, we may experience healing unknown to us before. The Savior himself said, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father.” I can’t begin to comprehend all that means, or how it relates to me, but it humbles me to consider it at all.

I consider myself fortunate that Priesthood leaders don’t seem to take any interest in what I teach. I often teach a local class where a few to 20 people gather to hear my free introductory class. This class usually covers stress management, pain management, controlling cravings, and negative emotions. Two experiences led me to seek answers because of others with a criticism of EFT. The first came from my oldest son returning from a mission. There was a ward mission leader who used EFT but questioned its use for improper purposes in removing guilt. Certainly any good thing can be perverted and used for evil purposes. EFT is not exempt from this. 

I believe two types of guilt exist. The first is the “godly sorrow” that leads to repentance and the turning of our hearts back to our Heavenly Father. There are no short cuts around this. If someone came to me trying to remove guilt for sin committed, I would ask them a few questions. If I felt they were trying to go around the repentance process, I would encourage them to counsel with their bishop or pastor if of another faith. I would then invite them to come back to me if they could not forgive themselves after attempting healing from a spiritual perspective. If they repented, but became stuck in unforgiveness, as many people do, then I would help them apply EFT to remove guilt where they clearly repented and were forgiven.

The other form of guilt is not really guilt, but regret. “I feel so guilty because I did not read to my young children. I feel so guilty because I wasn’t there for my family member when they needed me most. I feel guilty because my friend died before I could mend our friendship.” In these cases, there may not be any real sin. Likely more folly than anything, we beat ourselves up with regret of a situation and sometimes let it consume us. This is actually a wonderful use of EFT. Satan would love for us to believe we are too flawed, too imperfect, too unworthy to truly deserve the freedom from guilt from simple mistakes. That guilt becomes a burden that keeps us from shining our lights. We do not need to keep carrying that burden. Both types of guilt can be lifted through the atonement of Jesus Christ. Any lingering doubts, fears, guilt can be released with EFT.

The second challenge came from a local health practitioner in my area. I went in for my own care, and during the office visit I asked him if he knew of EFT. He said yes, and he expressed some misgivings because he felt like EFT could too easily release people of burdens which they should bring to the Savior. Though I did not reply, I giggled silently, because I thought, “Yes! We can be easily released from our burdens.” I hope everyone brings their burdens to the Savior, but even when we do, the conditions of mortality often block our ability to accept what He offers. I could say just as easily to him, “Well then you should certainly close your practice, because of course we should take our health burdens to the Savior, and you prevent people from doing that.” 

When we read stories of healing by the Savior in the scriptures, it is usually done quickly and easily. I find it interesting that the Savior used a variety of methods to heal. To some he simply spoke the words, “be healed.” To yet others, he touched or laid hands on or took by the hand. In 3 cases, he used spit in combination with other things, to bring about healing. To at least one, he forgave his sins. Some were instructed to wash. And we know at least one, who touched him and was healed. So, why is it today, that we expect healing to follow one specific way, or only specially approved ways? We live in a time where everything is available to us more quickly than ever before. Why couldn’t the Lord give us techniques to help us heal more quickly than ever before, in a time when we can’t be burned at the stake for it? What a blessing! 

I want to share just a few of my greatest experiences with EFT. The first one with my own son, kept him from having surgery. In Junior High, he suffered from hernia pain for some time, when he came to me sheepishly explaining the pain. I took him to the doctor, because this was something I did not know what to do with. An inguinal hernia was confirmed. After several more days of his complaints, I offered to try this “new thing” I learned to see if he could find any relief. We were both astonished when after 5 short rounds of tapping, he miraculously declared, “Mom, how did you do that? I felt the pain leave my body!” Hmm. I could not explain it. After pestering him every day for a week to see if the pain returned, he finally assured me there was no pain and invited me to leave him alone. As I mulled over the question of what in the world happened, I realized a couple of weeks later, I needed to take him back to the doctor. Another doctor in the practice confirmed that there was no longer a hernia. I concluded that addressing pain allowed his body to do as it was naturally designed to do—HEAL.

When I originally learned EFT, I was hesitant with whom I shared the knowledge. For one thing, if you’ve never seen it, it seems so very weird. Tap your face and body, and repeat phrases, and deeply and completely accept yourself and voila??? Alternative therapies were comfortable for me and I found it weird! What would others think? At first, I only shared with family and very close friends, but my whole life I had wished for a magic wand. I wanted to wave it to help other’s pain, and here I felt was the closest thing I’d ever find to it, to do just that. It wasn’t long before I just couldn’t help myself. Every success brought me more courage to share. Grateful and encouraging recipients created the desire to study and increase my skills.

I am not a doctor, so I do not diagnose, but I heard that one of the ladies I visit taught witnessed something truly traumatic. From what I heard, it seemed like she was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The first time I heard about it, that hesitancy to approach her got the best of me, but many months later, someone repeated again that she could barely function because of her sufferings. I finally took courage and went to see her. I told her what I heard and I told her I could offer her something that might help. Her desperation encouraged her to try anything, because she could not sleep at night or get the images she had seen from her mind. 

She had witnessed the aftermath of a suicide. Her heart often raced, she could not eat, and she could not walk in a particular place near her home because of the emotions and memories it recalled. There was never a day that went by nearly 10 months later that she did not experience severe emotional symptoms around this event.

I set up a time to see her. We spent an hour together. I found a way to gently help her process the emotions of the experience before she ever gave me any details. We spent 45 minutes just going after her current disturbed emotions that she titled “The Worst Thing I Ever Saw.” Then the big test. I asked that she tell me the story, stopping every few minutes at the more disturbing parts and asking her about those emotions. She felt no negative response. More story, more stops, more checking, more testing. Each time her answers indicated, there was NO emotional connection. At the end of an hour, she realized with great satisfaction, that all of the disturbing emotions she shared with me an hour before, were gone. I get choked up just writing about it. She suffered all this time, and within my scope of knowledge and learning was the answer she needed. She suffered many more months than necessary, and it gave me the greatest courage of all, to continue offering it as I felt led to do so.

A few weeks later I saw her at a ward Christmas party. We chatted for a while, and then I asked her if any remaining feelings about the disturbing experience remained. She looked confused, genuinely, and asked, “what experience?” I reminded her of the tapping we did together. She replied, “oh that, I never think of that anymore.” I was astounded that she went from never a day going by without having multiple negative emotions to seemingly barely remembering such an event even occurred! How grateful I was to be an instrument in her release from such a traumatizing event! Could the Savior heal her? ABSOLUTELY! Perhaps she needed the presence of someone in her life who cared. Perhaps I needed to be the presence in her life who cared, so that I could recognize there is work for me to do. I have talents and there are people the Lord wants me to touch. I don’t really know, but it gave me even more courage to move forward.

I could fill page after page after page of similar stories. Tapping for intrusive thoughts. Tapping for broken hearts. Tapping for physical pain and stress. Tapping for spiritual issues within my scope of help. I close with one more. This one means more to me than anyone else, because I needed the healing. 

My parents divorced when I was very young. My brother and I were reared by our father and not active in the church. Separated from my mother until I was 17, as a freshman at BYU, I decided to find her and see if we could build a relationship. She welcomed it, but it was not all smooth sailing. At the tender age of 19, after a big falling out, my mother took her own life, leaving behind a younger 11 year-old half-brother, whom I met only once in my life. Regret. Devastation. I was depressed for nearly a year. My happy college life became clouded. I blamed myself. I knew the promptings I didn’t follow. Every October and every mother’s day became a reminder of regret. The years did fade the trauma and I thought over time that I felt better about the whole thing. I had NO IDEA how deep that pain really lived. Until I went to an EFT training.

The warning was issued that we might be triggered. We were told how to handle it if it happened. Right in the middle of watching someone else clear their issues on stage, I was brought back to the day I heard of her death. I was brought back to my college apartment on the floor in a heap, screaming over her death, as my helpless roommates tried to figure out what to do with me. The same feelings of hate toward members of my family who I felt shared the blame were right there in my face. The guilt for not following strong promptings in the way only hindsight gives you, still hung in the air around me. Eighteen years later, it was as if I was just experiencing it. No, I did not feel better about the whole thing. The big scab over the experience was being ripped off in the most painful way. 

The available professionals helped me gain control of myself. I fortunately understood the importance of not letting this pain go another day. I did not know a single person in that Denver hotel that night, and so I became a client to myself. I found a way to act as the client. I also found a way to act as the practitioner. For 3 hours, I did for myself what I regularly did for anyone who asked. It was only a little more than a year since I was first introduced to the technique. By the time it was over, I felt released in a deep way that I did not realize was possible. From that day forward, I never felt the pain in the way I previously did. The pain was removed; hatred released; forgiveness for myself and others accomplished. I forgave my mother. I forgave God. 

Before this time, when the subject came up, I couldn’t speak of it with much control. From that day on, I easily could with little emotional attachment. I don’t relish the opportunity, but when it does come up, I can discuss it without having to clench every muscle in my body to prevent a meltdown. Emotional freedom. A gift!

I am in my eighth year of what I know is a life long journey. I am no longer afraid or concerned with what people think about this technique. I tap while I walk or run. I tap in my car. I tap in my shower. I tap when and where it is needed. Do I have friends who do not take advantage of what I offer? Yes. That is none of my business. Are there family members who have no interest? Yes. That is all right by me. Do some people roll their eyes at me? Probably. I can live with that. 

I learned years and years ago, probably decades now, that there is a mind body connection. I never understood that there was a mind, heart, body, spirit connection. EFT is only one of the tools I know to heal and to succeed. Mental creation, nutrition, exercise, supplements, rest are just a few others. There are a myriad of other “energy” techniques. Some I have used. Others I feel uncomfortable with. Each person has to use their discernment to investigate and consider whether it is of use.

I realized early on, that because people do not know how to heal, they carry burdens that prevent them from being the light in the world they are meant to be. I understood as I applied EFT to myself in one of hundreds of times, that I was God’s gift to the world. In turn, I believe everyone is God’s gift to the world. He sent us here with gifts, talents, and a purpose to discover. Mortality is a laboratory for us to take the challenges that create burdens in our natural walk through life, and experiment until we find what will help us to throw off those burdens. 

Here is my testimony and prescription for doing so. I know that focus on the Savior brings us peace when we carry great burdens, and that He guides us to the exact things we need to help us release our burdens. It may be a mental burden to conquer. It may be emotional hurts to conquer in our hearts. It may be physical symptoms within or beyond our control, possibly contributed to by our thoughts and emotions. It may be spiritual burdens that we cannot admit to or discover. 

I know since becoming involved in this work, that the scriptures support healing. There may be a method to which you are drawn. Seek out trusted, faithful practitioners of that method and ask for more information or training. Our faith and intentions determine where we end up. When we set an intention for good, if we hold to that intention, in spite of brief testing, we can accomplish what we set out to do. Ask, ask, ask. Expect to receive. Keep seeking. 

Prayerfully request the Lord’s will for you. Combine it with your righteous desires. I once had an unusual answer to a prayer of what I should pray for, “what do YOU want?” (I was seeking the healing of an injured kitty). Much pondering over that taught me that there is balance between the Lord’s will and our desires. Ask. If granted, you know it is within His will and desire for you. If it is not, assume there is something better, or something to learn. Similarly, if you feel uncomfortable, that may be a warning. It may also be that you simply need more information. It may be fear. Just because you feel good or bad about a particular thing, does not mean others will agree. May I suggest that differences of opinion are acceptable? You don’t need to convince anyone else. Just seek your own path while seeking His spirit.

Stay close to your covenants. Our righteous desires exist within us for a reason. I believe God plants them in us. We can gain insights and revelation by keeping the commandments and keeping and renewing our covenants. Every week we participate in ordinances. Outside of the Sabbath, the majority of us also live within a half-day or less drive to a temple. Use those blessing to your advantage. If you are what a friend of mine calls a “light worker,” it’s possible that you may be targeted with negativity to thwart your progress. That is why you need the added benefit and strength of commandments, prayer, scriptures, and covenant keeping. Filling my own soul with light better enables me to help those who need rescue from darkness. I believe the light of Christ works through these techniques, through the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, and with our gifts, to bless others.

I am grateful for the light and truth in the gospel: for the knowledge of Jesus Christ; for his example of love and healing; that he did not come to condemn us, but to save us; for the invitation to come unto Him to be healed and to be saved. I’m grateful for a loving supportive husband who not only backs me in everything I do, but takes up the slack so I can do it; that he sings my praises and cheers me on. I am grateful for patient children who let me experiment on them with how to direct and conquer their thoughts, how to heal their hearts, how to apply every manner of oil, herb, or tapping fingers for healthy bodies, how to open their spirits to their Heavenly Father and their Savior. I am grateful for Priesthood brethren in and out of my family, who lead by example, encourage with gentleness, respect my role as a woman, invite my input and participation, and offer their own worthy healing gifts. I am grateful for the inspiration found on my knees and in the pages of scripture. I am grateful for like-minded friends who teach me how to seek and find. I am grateful for a sisterhood who loves and embraces; the sisterhood in the Relief Society, and the sisterhood in those seeking a similar path as the one I choose. Lastly, I am thankful for good friends and great opportunities.

We are blessed to live in “such a time as this.”

 

Why Realtors Should be Paid MORE!!!

IAT = I am thankful

I am thankful for those who appreciate me.
I am thankful I have a way to make a difference.
I am thankful sometimes I make a living by working.
I am thankful I can persist.
I am thankful I always have choices.

A week or so ago, someone shared someone else's opinion with me, that they thought that realtors make too much money. I laughed out loud. I can understand how it may seem like realtors just show people some properties, fill out a few papers and collect a check. I'd like to clear up a few misconceptions. Let's just start with that check. Nothing but the money.

A realtor's commission can be anywhere from 1 or 2% up to 10% of the sales price. The circumstances vary greatly and no one sets the commission but the agent themselves. My typical fee is 6%. To make the numbers easy, let's say it's a $100,000 home. Woohoo! I get $6000! Right? Wrong!!!

Usually, there is another agent involved. So, it gets split in half, right off the top. Then I pay a franchise fee, a broker fee, and Errors and Omissions insurance for each transaction. At this point, I am very close to $2000. Well, hey, that's still a lot of money for driving people around and doing paperwork. I paid for my own gas. I pay for a website every month. I pay for membership in our local Multiple Listing Service. I am required to belong to local, state, and national boards. And there is advertising, printing costs, a business phone, a computer, printer (these have to be replaced periodically), professional clothes, lock boxes, signs, office supplies, and so forth.

If I have regular sales coming in month after month after month, I can actually make a little bit of money. Twice in my 7 years, I have gone nearly a year with no sales, AND I WAS WORKING. Which means, I was taking clients out, I had all my expenses, I had listings. But they weren't selling, or after several months of work, a client is disqualified in some part of the loan process. Or, a seller would not agree to a requested repair after inspection. Or, a defect is found in the final walk through and the buyer cancels. Or, an appraiser values the home lower than expected and no one can come to an agreement. Or, the title company discovers a defect that can't be corrected. Or some party in the transaction is just a plain pain in the butt and wrecks the whole thing. 

I have 2 associates in my office who just shared a ONE PER CENT COMMISSION.

Do I have the occasional deal where I either get both sides of the transaction (I represent the buyer and the seller) and get the whole enchilada? Yes! Do I have the OCCASIONAL deal where everything goes like clock work and I fall on my knees at the end in gratitude and seriously praise my Provider? Yes! But that is really the exception to what has become the rule in real estate since 2008.

I remember when I first started, I was working 20-30 hours a week sitting at a subdivision. After 4 months, I was averaging .25 cents an hour. Yeah, that stopped.

Let's talk about all the moving parts. Me the realtor. My broker. Our office. The seller. The buyer. The other office. The other broker. The other agent. The title company. The lender. The appraiser. The inspector. And those are just the bare bones. Throw in an occasional nosey, controlling relative, a long line of other inspectors and repair people, and it's a recipe for disaster.

And what about those great hours I keep? I can work whenever I want. Yes. And no. I try as much as I can to organize my schedule around my family, my children, and our events. But it's not unusual to get a call at 7 am or 9 pm. This still really confuses me. Do people not understand business hours? Because you need to actually earn an income, sometimes you take the calls. Then there's the times you are going out of town (nearly every time) and someone wants to make an offer or list a house or see property. Now you have to bend yourself into a pretzel and get your agent friends to cover you and hope that they'll still be your client when it's all over. Not because your fellow agents aren't amazing which they are, but you do what is best for your client, not you.

Including waving good bye to them when you spent all that time and they went and bought a FSBO. 
Including doing more than extra work when your client has a tragedy.
Including maintaining your ethics and integrity when others don't care about theirs.
Including being respectful of uninformed opinions when you've been hired as the professional.
Including, waking up another day, and being hopeful after a client you've spent months with simply won't return your phone calls.
Including being gracious when others slander you or step beyond their professional bounds.
Including using thousands and thousands of minutes every month on your phone and 90% of them aren't conversations with the people you love most.

No, I just can't agree that realtors make too much money. The stuff I CAN'T say would really make you wonder why I'm still in. Suffice it to say it's the stuff that people threaten. The liability and risk I face every day just trying to help others make the biggest decisions of their lives as consumers.

What keeps me going? Sometimes I do make money. And it funds several months for one of my missionaries. Or it takes us on a vacation. Or it pays a hospital or other bill. Or it helps us achieve a goal. Or it gets us to the end of the month.

But the real pay and maybe why I just can't stop, (esp since every time I try business shows up), is helping people make the most important purchase or sale of their lives. Most people are truly grateful. Most people are truly appreciative. Every once in awhile someone recognizes that you have put everything you have in your heart and soul into a transaction to save it. Sometimes nobody actually knows how much you put your heart and soul into it. There are quiet moments where you have the opportunity to share what I call sacred space. Yes, it can happen in real estate. Because buying and selling of homes doesn't happen in a vacuum. It happens while people live. During births, during deaths, during job changes, during divorces, during stresses. Sometimes people share their hearts. And it's more than just a transaction. It's the lives of people you serve. That's what I like the most. No, I probably will not get paid more. The average person will never appreciate the lengths I've gone to. They'll just see a percentage, and think I'm swimming in the cash. In the end, that's ok.

I'll be in real estate as long as I need to be in real estate. When I don't need to anymore, I won't. Until then, I'll enjoy what I can.

Confessions of Mommy Grinch?

IAT = I am thankful

I am thankful for each of my children.
I am thankful for my mom, who I never knew how I wanted.
I am thankful for my dad who was my mom for many years.
I am thankful for all of my other moms. Including my mom in law.
I am thankful for a supportive husband who helps me to be a better mom.

I have a confession to make. I hate Hallmark cards. Ok, hate is a strong word and not all Hallmark cards. I'm talking about the contrived iambic pentamer rhymes that are dripping with syrup. Maybe there is something wrong with me? But I'd much rather have a home made card by my Arteest, or a store bought card with a non rhyming heart felt sentiment. Weird huh?

I think the book I'll Love You Forever is a bit creepy. Yes! I read it to my kids often, but an old woman taking her son out of bed and rocking every night? Creep factor! I'm sentimental but I don't like glurge. Contrived stories or sentiments that have more to do with a point than the sad story it tells. Example. I hope I don't offend. Maybe you'll just feel sorry for me. These kinds of facebook posts make me want to delete my account. (Ohhhhh! That's how we can get rid of her!!!)

There are times, few times, that I worry about one of my children. But there are entire days, some times a few days in a row, where I don't think about my married sons. Gasp! I guess I'm a horrible mother. Here's the thing. They have wives! Now maybe this idea came from a young mom with children at home. I still have children at home and there are days when they are off to school that I don't think about what they are doing at school. Gasp! I know. Call CPS and take them away. Now, there's nothing wrong with a mom who wants to worry about her children every day and think about them every minute, I just don't. And if I do, I don't think I need to share it. And I don't think that if I don't worry, I don't love my children. Hogwash.

I pray for my children every single day. But every single week of their lives at least once, sometimes daily, my intent is to rear them so that when they leave the house, I DON'T HAVE TO WORRY. I have faith in what I am teaching them and their ability to act on it until they act in such a way that I can't have faith in it. I have enough to "worry" about my own life without worrying about all 7 of my children. It doesn't mean I don't love them. It just means I have confidence in them. I pray for them every single day, and I leave them in God's care. Worry just isn't me, unless Bret is late coming home and then if it's more than an hour, I've gotten the knock on the door, planned his funeral, brought myself to tears, and am worrying how we will survive, when he drives up! :-)

My favorite children's book that came out when I only had a few toddlers left at home is The Seven Silly Eaters. Oddly, very rhymy and I don't care. I could not read it EVER without crying. Because it was about as real life as it gets with a large family. I should have told my family to get me that for Mother's Day. :-)

If you've never read it, go here. The Seven Silly Eaters

This is my fondest memory of Motherhood. These days are gone. The quiet moments, when a content baby snuggles up under your chin, and you sigh, that for a few moments, the world is as it should be. I had this beautiful time for at least 7-14 years. While they were small, nestling up against me. Thank goodness for grandbabies!

One last thought, mothers get so much credit. "The greatest profession in the world!" I know that Mother's Day is for mothers, and some mothers don't have a husband and father in the home. But in this home we do. And I could never have been a good mother, without my darling husband who worked hard so I could stay home; who together, we often sacrificed so we could have the life we wanted with me at home with the babies. He was always willing at the end of a long day when I was tired, to help with whatever was needed. He was tired too. He still is. And still does. Any success I achieve will be because I have an awesome partner and support.

No, I'm not grinchy toward motherhood. My little heart has grown into a swelled version of it's former self because it was filled with love for my children and FROM my children. My greatest blessings in the world.