A Christmas Gift

In 2005 Andy went to Hawaii with us.  I have a picture of him giving me a big hug in front of this beautiful waterfall on the Big Island.  He's not in this picture taken by me in October, 2011.

I miss him, but either I have put up a wall, blocked out that part of my life, or I feel at peace.  I'm not really sure, I just know I don't think about him in prison too often.  He is in every prayer I utter, but I don't cry very much anymore because he is serving time. Our family was given a neat gift this Christmas to help bring him back into my thoughts.  We were getting ready to sit down for Christmas dinner which was prepared and served a few days before Christmas because someone was flying out the next day.  The doorbell rang.  I answered the door, but for a few seconds didn't recognize the young man standing on the steps. Then I realized it was a kid Andy hung out with in middle school and years after.  Of course I invited him to dinner which he accepted.  We had a delightful Christmas dinner laughing and reminiscing about him and Andy.  This young man lives in Colorado and was visiting his family.

After Todd left I thought to myself, what are the chances of this happening?  Was he led by the spirit to visit us at that time on this very day? I believe he was because of the sweet thoughts and memories that were generated in my heart of my youngest son.  I am very grateful.   

The Reason for the Season

We get a letter from Andy about every two or three weeks.  He can't call us like he used to, even collect.  It's good to get letters from him, and I think it's good for him to write because it gives him a chance to think deeper than, "hi mumsy, hi pops!"  I don't miss his phone calls, but I do like to read his letters.  He is changing.  I can tell by what he says that he's beginning to feel remorse for what he has done to his family.  He's understanding that life is not just about him, but also involves that group of people he grew up with.  He admits the wrong we do affects and hurts others, especially those closest to us. I will not expect nor hold my breath that "he's a changed man."  Not yet anyway.  I believe that takes time, lots of it, and there hasn't been enough time.

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I visited Temple Square in Salt Lake City last week to look at the Christmas lights, oh, what a beautiful heavenly land.  My seven year old grandson said almost reverently, "Grandma, it is so beautiful." He could feel the Christmas spirit or rather the spirit of Christmas.  I could, too.  This is a picture from the outside of the visitor's center of the Christus statue. It looks as if the Christ is floating in the air looking down on His people. I know there will come a day when Andy will repent fully, and he will be forgiven by the Great Healer.  That is the hope I cling to. 

Allegory of the Little Stream

I went to college a long time ago at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. In the summertime I make a yearly trek back to the school for some enrichment education.  This year I found something had changed on the lower part of campus.  Let me set the scene for you:  BYU is located in the foothills of the majestic Wasatch Mountains.  They are spectacular.  When I was a student, the southern hill leading to campus was well manicured with walkways, grass, lots of trees and a botany pond.  Following one of the trails you would see a slow moving stream meandering its way down and around the hill.  It was pretty, serene and peaceful.  Many engagements have taken place at the Botany Pond.  And unfortunately since "there needs be opposition in all things" danger lurked at night as many young coeds have been attacked there as well.  We were always warned never to go through the area alone at night.

I heard the BYU Ground's Crew had been consructing with rocks and waterfalls on the already beautiful pathway and stream.  I wanted to check it out and this is what I found:        

One of many waterfalls along the walkway.

This almost looks like an ancient Greek ruin. 

I have been studying the Allegory of the Tame and Wild Olive Tree found in The Book of Mormon, Jacob 5. The chapter heading says the tame and wild olive tree are a likeness to Israel and the Gentiles.  I see a meaning more personal to me.  The Lord of the vineyard would not give up on the decaying trees, he grafted, digged about, pruned and nourished His trees. He even planted some in the nethermost part of the garden where possibly the ground wasn't as fertile. I might be simplifying this very long chapter in the book of Jacob, but I draw the sweet conclusion that I must not ever give up on my children.

So what does this allegory have to do with the little stream?  The walkway along the south end of campus was lovely.  Then servants digged about, raked, placed local stones, figured out how to make waterfalls, and nourished the new plants to make the area at the south end of campus even more lovely.  I wonder if the water or the pathway or if the rocks could talk they might say it was painful to be changed.  Andy is being changed.  It is painful.  Could it be more painful for me than him?  Could I be the one who is being changed?

Andy was sentenced a few weeks ago: 12 years in a state correctional facility, PRISON. I dreaded the day when he would call and tell us the consequences of his court hearings.  Just thinking about it made me sick to my stomach. After hearing that 12 years actually means 6 years and the fact he has served nine months already, he may be there less than 5 years.  Certainly long enough, but hopefully long enough for a change.  I hope both of us change for the better as we are being pruned, grafted, and digged about.  Andy might be in the nethermost part of the vineyard, but he will still be nourished so he can grow and produce sweet, edible fruit.              

"You Knew What I Was Before You Picked Me Up"

I love the Indian legend about the young brave who was sent into the mountains for his initiation into the tribe's elite brotherhood of warriors, a very desired place to be for a young man.  Before his descent from the top of the mountain the young Indian brave noticed a snake at his feet.  The snake said he was very cold and wondered if the young brave could put him in his pocket just for a little while.  The soon to be warrior asked the snake if he was crazy.  "But I'm cold, just for a short time.  Please.  I won't hurt you, I promise."  Soon the snake was riding warm and comfortable inside the brave's buckskin shirt.  Just as they reached the base of the mountain, the snake bit the Indian boy, forcing his poisonous venom inside the boy's veins.  "Why did you do that for?  You said you wouldn't hurt me," screamed the boy.  "You knew what I was when you piked me up," hissed the deadly snake. 

The moral of the story is, don't touch anything that has the potential to harm you, even though it may seem innocent and harmless. 

Nothing New

Nothing new has happened except that the public defender is trying to get the prosecutor thrown out for misconduct concerning Andy's case.  Allegedly the attorney for the prosecution was tweeting, texting, emailing about the case and that she is "going to get him."  How the defense attorney found this out, I have no idea, but in the meantime more time passes.  Which is not a bad thing because it counts as time he has served, and where he is right now is a better place to be serving than in another.  His optimism has waned, and he has sounded more discouraged the last few times we have talked.  I don't know that he has turned any kind of corner or is ready to make changes in his life.  

Andy's dad and I were talking to a guy about our children the other day.  We said we had five children, the oldest a disciplined athlete who trains endurance athletes to do the same, a daughter who is a therapist for at-risk youth, one son going to medical school, and the other an Orthopaedic Surgeon.  He expressed his amazement at such accomplishments and said what great parents we are, blah, blah, blah.  I reached over, touched his arm and said, "don't get too impressed, we have one son in jail."  This son keeps us humble, but not ashamed.  I will not hide in a closet because of the choices he has made.  I think that is a huge part of my healing from this sad story.  I still have hope for this son.  His life is not over; he can become all he was sent to the the earth to become.  It might be plan B or even plan C, but there is hope.  And should his life end before that miracle of change takes place, I believe the opportunity for progression will be there for him, for all of us.   

Where are the Mountains?

In the background of this picture are a range of fairly high and distinctive desert mountains.  On this particular day the area was experiencing strong winds which stirred up the surrounding desert and naked farming fields.  Visibility in the valley was very low. 

Could it be that at times in our lives we are unable to see the truth because of what the winds of the adversary blow in our direction.  Perhaps we sometimes even go looking for the wind, the dust, the dirt.  By late afternoon the wind had died down and the dust was clearing out.  I could even see some of the mountains.  

Can there be a lesson in this?  Our vision will clear if we can just wait for the dust storms of temptation to quiet down.  I had to be out in the storm for about thirty minutes; I had grit in my hair, my teeth  were crunching together, and sand stuck to my face.  When a person seeks for the dirt, we will undoubtedly come in contact with it.  The answer is to wait out that storm.  Stay in a safe place until the wind dies down, or  the temptation is gone. 

Our son still sits in an LA county jail.  He's there because he didn't wait until the dust storm or  the temptation was gone.  The hope is someday he will be clean, and he will choose to stay in a safe place.