Book Reveiw

Through my dear friend Cheri Crane, I learned of a special book and I was immediately intrigued. Now that I’ve read it, I am so impressed, I thought I would pass word on. I would highly recommend this book to everyone. (Seriously, everyone should have a copy of this.)

There are three friends of Cheri’s, all of whom were sisters. Their names are Susan, Jean, and Trudy.

Their mother had declining health and had therefore spent a lot of time in various hospitals. Though the mother had a mind that was sharp and very much in tact, her speech had worsened to the point that her she no longer could convey her needs. Often times family members had to try to translate to the hospital staff for her because they could no longer understand what her wants and needs were. It became extremely frustrating for everyone involved.

One sister reported that on more than one occasion their mother would ring for assistance only to be walked out on and left in tears because the hospital staff couldn’t understand what she wanted or needed.

Their mother eventually passed away.

It was only a few short years later that this family learned that their brother in law ( one of the three sister’s husband) had been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease. While his mind stayed intact, his body was deteriorating. Speech was one of the things affected. Determined not to go through the suffering and frustration that they had experienced while their mother was a patient as she tried to express simple and basic needs, one sister was determined to find a way to help.

After much prayer and meditation, ideas began to form.

If they could write down simple sentences and he could point to that sentence, they’d know what he needed. The letters would be big enough for eyes that might find it hard to read and could be made out clearly. There would be icons with simple pictures for easy detection. All of this would be done in bright colors for cheerfulness, etc.

The sisters talked with each other and put it all their ideas together. As an end result, they came up with the book:

Communication for the Cognizant, Nonverbal Patient

The book was a success, there was a huge difference between their experience with the brother in law and the mother.

This book is very simple and easy to use. It’s designed to be used for those who have lost their ability to communicate verbally and gives them their voice back only to be heard in another way.
I want to add my personal experience and opinion about this book.

I have been a caretaker in a couple of different capacities. I know through experience how difficult and frustrating it is for the patient to lie there and have all their freedom taken away-- to be solely dependant on others for their well-being. Especially if they were once independent and liked to be the one who took care of others themselves.

For the caretaker, it’s hard to guess what the patient’s wants or needs could be. To burden them with a million questions can be frustrating for you and for them as well as you try to figure out a way to make them more comfortable. Doing so without communication skills can be not only frustrating, it can be stressful and even scary. In a patient’s most challenging times, you want to do all that you possibly can in such difficult circumstances. But without communication it can seem nearly impossible.

My grandmother is now 101. She is sharp and witty yet her health is declining. She has had strokes and other ailments that are causing her to lose clarity of speech. Her age is taking a toll on her dear sweet body. She lives in Denmark. We have decided to send this book to my aunt to help them communicate more easily with her. Though the book is in English, and my grandmother only speaks Danish, the pictures are universal and the words are in simple, large print, that it will allow my aunt to translate. I believe this book is just what they need. I hope to hear of their success with it.

I briefly told you the story behind the book taken from the introduction. You can read more about it for yourselves. It’s a very touching story. This family experienced many personal challenges and through their heartaches, loss, and absolute dedication and courage to their loved ones, a wonderful book has come forth to help us give those who have lost their voice another way to express themselves.

To order this book go to
www.mycompanionvoice.com

Or to see more you can visit My Companion Voice
www.facebook.com and click “like”

Affliction

As I try to gather my thoughts together to write this blog, my mind keeps wandering to my family and friends. Many of them are suffering from all types of struggles and afflictions.

Although I recognize that trials of heartache, illness, and devastation is worldwide-- especially in these latter days-- it seems within our own circle of loved ones adversity affects each of us in one form or another in quite an abundance.

As I ponder this thought of why adversity is so prevalent, I am reminded of two quotes from this last General Conference, both given by President Uchtdorf. The first is, “Comfort the afflicted, afflict the comfortable.” The second quote is, “Answers don’t always come when we are on our knees, but when we are on our feet.”

The Parable of the Good Samaritan comes to mind…

When the Priest and the Levite saw the man who had been robbed and wounded laying by the roadside, they passed him by. They even crossed to the other side to avoid him. Yet, the Samaritan who was thought to be an enemy of the man, was the one who made the greatest sacrifices and helped him in his time of need. He gave comfort to the afflicted.

As for Pres. Uchtdorf’s second part of the quote, “… afflict the comfortable.” I suppose this can be taken in many ways depending on where the listener of the talk is in their life. One of my thoughts was that I believe many of us, myself included, can become too complacent in our lives if we are not careful. Should/Could we do more to help the afflicted? It’s an individual evaluation, I suppose. It’s a question I should ask myself frequently so that I don’t become too complacent and find myself not doing enough to “Comfort the afflicted.”

As for the second quote I mentioned, I believe it is a good reminder that some of our greatest blessings come when we are in the service of others. I know that when I am having a difficult time, the best way to forget myself is find ways to be of service to others

I need to thank all the Good Samaritans in my life, and believe me, there have been many. In times of my own affliction, it was such a blessing to have Samaritans to help me bear my burdens. I need to keep in mind all they have done and try to do likewise for others.

My Conference Tradition

One of my fondest memories as a child of General Conference was watching the Sunday sessions on TV with my dad and sisters.

Each time the Mormon Tabernacle Choir would sing one of their musical numbers, we’d all race to see who could pick my mom out of the choir members. She sang second alto and we’d be thrilled if we spotted her. How excited we’d get if the camera man would show a close up!

Years have come and gone, and now my mother has passed. I still love to listen to the choir during conference. I desperately long to see my mother sitting there singing with the choir, but I realize the sweet spirit that can be felt any time a hymn is sung at a meeting.

One thing that has not changed, is my tradition of watching the Sunday sessions of General Conference with my Dad. To this day, I may have my own family now, but we all know that Sunday sessions are saved to watch with Grandpa. The tradition continues.

As I sat and listened on Sunday afternoon, I glanced over at my eighty two year old father who was intently listening to the speaker. My heart was full. I was grateful for the blessing of having him around to watch conference with.

I certainly love General Conference for all the reasons that everyone else does-- for the learning, the growth, for the messages of inspiration and the words of encouragement, of course I could go on and on.

But I am also very grateful for what it means to me personally and the connection I feel with my family. It’s a time when we come together in one purpose, we feel just so close. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

It's All His Fault (The Villain Of Our Story)

In our family, we’re getting ready for a wedding shower. In my attempt to come up with a couple of ice breaker games that aren’t too silly or boring, I searched the internet, grabbed a book and started making notes.

The thing is, the notebook I grabbed was one I’ve had sitting at my bedside for almost a year. It’s been moved around my nightstand from side to side so once I had my notes on wonderful shower games, I looked through it to see why I have been shuffling this particular notebook around and not just putting it away where I would have normally stored it.

“Good grief!” says I, (to myself since no one else was listening) the notebook had all my notes I had taken from a writers conference I had attended last year. They always give you a binder to take notes in, but this notebook was one I had taken myself and set aside because it had some really great useful stuff in it that I could have been using this last year while attempting to write my next book. Why do I always do things the hard way?!?

In my last blog, I shared some things I learned from my other notebook.(The binder I mentioned) Now I’ll share some things I learned from this one. I believe Jeff Savage taught the class and titled it: Villains: Creating characters we love to hate.

The thing that stands out most in my mind is that he mentions a few things I have never considered before. For example: when I think of the bad guy in a story, I picture him with evil, cold looking eyes, a scar across the cheek, a days growth of beard on his dirty, unwashed, face and greasy long hair hanging in his eyes. Can you see him? Maybe that’s a little too stereotypical but you get what I mean, right?

According to Jeff’s idea of a bad guy, picture someone who is charismatic, devious and intelligent. Maybe he has a good side and a bad side with no conscience and feels justified in what they do.

Whoa! A good looking bad guy? Who woulda thought? Okay, some writer’s have, but as a reader, don’t you find that very intriguing? I believe it leaves room to question whether he really is the bad guy or if he is a supporting character put in the story to throw off the reader. In other words, it adds more people to the list of possible suspects for the “who dun nit” list. It keeps the reader guessing. As a reader no one likes to know the outcome by the end of the first couple of pages, right?

In this class, we learned that heroes and villains are very closely tied.
They are both ordinary men who desire extraordinary things. It’s the motives that separate the villains from the heroes.

There are so many more notes with valuable information on this topic. I could go on and on.

Another way to get your reader to understand your villain’s motives is to get the reader to view things from your villain’s eyes. What happened in his life that made him the way he is? What is his actions supposed to accomplish? I think this is where you can help the reader know your villain without stereotyping or merely making your bad guy “look the part”

I guess the point I wanted to make is that it is easy to stereotype a character. Getting inside the head of your character and seeing/showing what makes them tick will help them come alive on the pages of your book for your reader. Their looks and their actions will act as a guide and help the reader get to really know them.

In ending I wanted to share one last note I had taken from the class that stood out to me.

The best villains are like the heroes if the hero had taken a different path. They can make people and hopefully the reader believe their goal was worthy, that they have struggled with their decision.

After attending the class and reading my notes, my villain could use some work, but these ideas get me excited to try some new things. Thanks Jeff, for the great info!

It's In The Doing

I came across an inspirational thought I had to share.

“When our wagon gets stuck in the mud, God is much more likely to assist the man who gets out to push than the man who merely raises his voice in prayer-- No matter how eloquent the oration.
President Thomas S. Monson put it this way: “It is not enough to want to make the effort and to say we’ll make the effort…
It’s in the doing, not just the thinking, that we accomplish our goals. If we constantly put our goals off, we will never see them fulfilled.”
Pres. Dieter F. Uchtdorf, “Two Principals For Any Economy”
Ensign, Nov. 2009

Upon reading this quote, I couldn’t help but think what a wonderful message it gave and the important reminder it is-- “It’s in the doing, not just the thinking”

We have begun a new year. Many of us have set goals and resolutions for ourselves. Some may have set goals that have to do with their writing, others may be working on goals that focus on personal or spiritual growth, or whatever the case may be. This saying applies to all.

It’s not enough to want to make the effort, but it’s in the doing.

May we all have not only the desire to accomplish our goals in the coming year, but the will to do them!

Happy New Year!

Home of the Year

As I sit and look around me, I can’t help but see the dust covering the shelves. Darn, I meant to get to that. The dishes, though not stacked nearly as tall in the sink as they were when I went to work yesterday (that would be thanks to my finely trained husband) are still in need of a good washing. Oops, meant to get that done too. And the laundry… well, we won’t even go there, since it’s well hidden in the basement and no one needs to know of its condition except those of us who are trying earnestly to tackle it. (That too is on my to-do list)

By the description of my home, you can tell, it’s not the kind of home you’ll see in Better Homes and Gardens. Sure, I wish I had more time for better upkeep. It really is a bigger priority than I make it sound, but there are some nights I lay my head just happy in the thought that at least it’s clean enough that it’s reasonably straight and we don’t live in filth.

Still, isn’t it every woman’s dream to live in a spic and span home? I feel like I grew up in one, if memory serves me right.

But would I really like to live in the perfect model home? Hmmmm…. I’d have to think on that. On the one hand I would instantly say yes. As I mentioned, my mother was a brilliant housekeeper and there are times I wonder if she looks down on me and shakes her head in disappointment if I go too many days without running the vacuum around.

On the other hand, I may not get the Home of the Year award sponsored by some well known magazine, but I sure love that feeling of coming home; to my home, my comfortable home.

There are no classic works of art, but there are pictures of Christ and the Temples, and there are my family’s pictures hanging which reminds me of all that I love and all that are important to me.

Sure, I may look at magazines and dream of those clean spotless homes. But they never look lived in. They don’t look loved in. They aren’t homey and comfortable. I think I’ll stick with the one I have. After all, “We may not have it all together, but together we have it all.”

The past several months, I’ve had to work far too many hours. I was away from home way too much and too many things were neglected from the home front. I’m not just talking about housekeeping, but I felt I wasn’t doing enough in regards to my family. My husband really had to step in and pick up wherever I couldn’t.

But I had the luxury of spending a few days at home over the Christmas holiday. I had a sense of renewal. It was so wonderful to be home. There is no place I would rather be. I crave more of it.

To me, I don’t need a magazine to tell me what it takes to make a “Home of the Year.” My heart knows what it takes. I believe I have one. I couldn’t feel more grateful for that.

In the coming year, I vow to spend as much time there as I possibly can. (Then maybe while I am there I can do something about those dishes, clothes, and dust bunnies. I’m actually looking forward to it!) :)

Oh Holy Night, Indeed!

As a family we have started a new tradition in our home. On the first week of each December a stake in a nearby city puts on a live Nativity for all to come and see. It is spectacular.

As the night falls, you come upon the Prophet Isaiah writing on scrolls. His prophesies of the Savior who will come unto the world is foretold as well as the Savior‘s mission on the earth is read to all who will listen to the Prophet of old.. As you listen to his visions and prophesies, soon you hear the scriptural account of the days leading up to the Christ child’s birth. Waiting in line, it is a powerful reminder of all that has come to pass and all the promises that will be fulfilled. What a wonderful reminder of what that means to each of us in our lives.

Then as you walk along, you see the Shepherds out in the field (with their live sheep around them) watching their flock by night who first see the star and the wise men walking toward the star shining in the sky. Was it just me or was there one particular star shining extra bright for us that clear cold Monday night????

There were cattle, goats, and even a large (live!) camel was there to greet us as we all walked towards Bethlehem. Many people walked among us in robes suited for that era. Children walked with parents, elderly walked with their staffs in tow. We felt we had gone back in time. All around us sounds could be heard of people walking toward Bethlehem -- to the land of their inheritance.

Once we arrived in Bethlehem, we were met by a soldier who expected us to pay our taxes, and a man who--off to the side stood weighing in coins of every shape and size---which were the taxes paid--- before we were to enter.

Once were allowed entrance into Bethlehem, there were peddlers trying to sell and barter their trade. Women were weaving baskets and grinding wheat stalks into grain. Men carved from logs with tools while others sold vegetables and fruit from crates and stalls. Even a leper was shunned from public begging for a morsel from any merciful passerby.

We continued to walk through the “dirt road” of Bethlehem and saw women gathering water at a well with a rooster perched on top watching us with his steady gaze and even came upon an Inn keeper sending everyone away for there was no room at the Inn.. So much to see, and even more to learn yet no one spoke to us, but rather let us take it all in by observing what was happening at that time. No one spoke a word. No one needed to. The only words spoken were that of the Inn Keeper. It was enough, for then in the darkened city, around the corner not too far from a stall of a donkey, a light shone ever so clear. It was then we heard the sweetest sound we could have heard.

A newborn baby started to cry.

We came upon the only quiet, warm, corner of the barn in the small town of Bethlehem. The parents of the baby Jesus were kneeling beside the newborn baby trying to comfort him. It was an incredible sight to see a real newborn baby wrapped up in soft blankets in the barn on that freezing cold snowy night. It took our breath away.

As we left the barn, a woman dressed in robes whispered to us ever so softly, “Merry Christmas,.” She had tears in her eyes and so did we.

As we got into our car to leave, the song, “Oh Holy Night” was playing on the radio. What a beautiful ending to our beautiful night.

Of course there are so many reasons I love Christmas, but is it any wonder that seeing and hearing the story of the birth of our Savior brings with it a renewed sense of hope and love to all the world?

That night, being a spectator of the Nativity, brought a new vision of the Christmas story for me. I hope and pray that I will not lose the feelings I had in my heart as I witnessed the scene before me.

It was a witness to me of the accounts that happened so very long ago. It was an experience testified ever so strongly of the miracles and blessings that would come because of the humble beginnings of that wondrous night so long ago because of that sweet little baby that laid quietly crying in a manger.

Indeed, what a Holy Night it was.