To See Clearly. . .

by Shauna Brown 

        Yesterday, Rick and I went to have our windshield replaced. Never did I think it would afford a discussion of my beliefs. As Rick and I were sitting on an old wooden bench  in the open sunshine, a fellow employee of the service department approached us.  

        “You’re Ladder-day Saints, aren’t you?” 

        “Yes we are,” we affirmed, somewhat taken back, those being the first words out of his mouth.  

        “I’m not.” 

          I didn’t know what to expect. Instantly my mind took to thoughts of  wondering: ‘where is this going to lead? Will he want to talk about polygamy, Joseph Smith?  Would there be questions concerning gay rights, Book of Mormon, Blacks and the priesthood? Would he ask if Mormons truly are Christians or a cult,  should woman have the right to hold the Priesthood? 

 Lately it seems that there continues to be attention and focus upon the Church, beliefs, etc. 

         Then, equally as surprising he shared with enthusiasm, “I know the Bible, I have memorized it!  I have studied the Koran, studied Buddha's teachings. You know Moslems believe a lot of the same things Mormons do.”  He smiled and then he eagerly bubbled, “A good woman gave me the Book of Mormon, Pearl of Great Price, Doctrine and Covenants on CD. I don’t know how to read, so I listen and learn. I love it.  I know the Book of Mormon is important to everyone.” 

               He then eagerly shared concerning his love of God, noting that God had blessed him so much in life. Here was a man by all indications that was ‘barely making a living’ for his large family. He had been married a few times and had a bunch of children, his last wife gifting him seven.  He openly admitted that he had made quite a few mistakes, that his life had been peppered with bad choices. He had faced death in the face, but through all the hardships had learned to trust in God.  

            Here was a man wearing a simple gray T-shirt, shorts and worn shoes, kneeling before Rick and I, and eagerly sharing his witness of a loving God. He wore no white shirt or tie, and hadn’t been prepared on street approaches,  but his passion was clearly to share a portion of his insights, facts and truths as he had learned.  Bearing testimony concerning the Holy Ghost, Jesus Christ, and the great I AM was evident, and common experience for him.  We were somewhat a captivated audience and we listened, we learned, and together rejoiced in the truths.   

        I thought at first we were just going to have our windshield replaced, but I gratefully attended a revival, growing a greater, deeper appreciation for what I believe, as well as whom I believe in.  It was refreshing to listen to another seeker of truth and sense his compassion for everyone.  He wanted to be clear, as clear and clean as his windshields. Here was a  man  called Richard, who held great love for God.

        “One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential 

           is invisible to the eyes.” 

                ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery 

        Once again I reflected upon my own life and journey. to ponder my own divine purpose and clear mission.  It made me think of those times of questioning, as well as times of confirming truths. Interestingly, it causes me to harken to a recent statement made by Elder Jeffery R. Holland: 

  

        “ I would say to all who wish for more faith, remember . . .  

         In moments of fear or doubt or troubling times, hold the ground  

         you have already won, even if that ground is limited. . ."  Elder Jeffery R. Holland. 

        Hold the ground, 

          Hold to the rod, 

                Hold to God ~   

Enjoy your Sabbath

Love to All

Shauna 

                    ACT WELL THY PART

by Shauna Brown 

          Who could ever forget an incredible tale--especially told about oneself? Not me!   I was three or four years old when it occurred.   It was a warm summer day and my two older brothers, Robert and Michael were decked out in their cowboy outfits, guns, chaps, and hat. I was chosen as the Indian.  I always was the Indian.   

        “I shot you!”  “Hide”  “You play dead!”  “I shot you!”    From one side of the yard to the other we attacked and retreated. That is until my father came out to mow the lawn. At that point the game retreated to the back yard.  

   However, to my father’s  surprise as he entered the backyard to mow he noticed me laying flat on the grass. There were no cowboys to be seen in any direction.  He then called out my name. “Shauna!” 

        I did not respond or move. He shook me, but I continued to lay motionless.  He was filled with instant concern.  Picking me up in his arms he quickly proceeded into the house. He rushed me to the bedroom.  Laying me upon the big bed he called out for assistance from my mother.  Noting the urgency in his voice Mama quickly rushed into the bedroom, and instantly peppered him with questions: “What happened? Where was she?  Is she hurt? What’s wrong? What was she doing?” 

          Imagine the fear that enveloped both of them. The more they looked at me stretched upon the bed, rendering not a sound or any movement, fear took hold. Daddy offered, “I’ll go and call the doctor.”  Mother inspected my every inch while checking for any sight of injury.  

       “The more I looked at Shauna I began thinking she was turning blue. I would lift her little arm and it would fall limp like a rag doll. I could see no brusing, no bumps--nothing.  I was ready to rush her to the hospital when a flash of inspiration struck. “Where’s Michael and Robert ?”

They were playing with her the last time I saw them.”       Within a few minutes my two young cowboy brothers  were standing beside the bed. Mother’s concerned interrogation began: “What was Shauna doing?” “Did you see her fall?”  “Did she eat something?” “What happened?”  “Did you hit her?” “What happened?” 

        Imagine their young fear as they sought for answers. Reviewing the situation Michael the eldest,  explained, “We were playing cowboys and Shauna was the Indian.” Robert then shared aloud, “I shot Shauna.” 

    Then, something clicked within my mother’s mind, “Aw haw! All right young lady! You can stop playing dead!” As she relates it, I arose with jubilation and giggles. All eyes were filled with instant surprise, as I bounced upon the bed. All were amazed that I could have accomplished such a fete. I had succeeded in my first acting experience. I had proven myself to be most believable.  I had achieved success!   I had faked death.

     “There are no constraints on the human mind, no walls around the human spirit,  no barriers to our progress except those we ourselves erect.”    Ronald Reagan 

            Don’t you love that thought?  No constraints, no fear, awe to be courage filled and confident. I believe that too many times many of us erect walls and barriers, fearing what others might say or think of us. We even hide some qualities that would ultimately bless the lives of others. We build facades to constrain the truth of how God wants us to be. We know that possibilities lie within, yet, we limit the opportunities to try.    We close our eyes to our imagination and talents by frequently comparing and unfortunately negating our worth.  We play dead too often.

        Imagine the joy to God when we burst out of restraints, breathe deeply with confidence, and accomplish even the smallest of intended parts, as we believe and venture forth convinced : that “with God nothing is impossible.”

Pres. David O. McKay shared a saying that he sought to live by: 

“What E’re Thou Art, Act Well Thy Part” 

    So today... Live more fully, laugh and then laugh some more. Consider your place within the spectrum of spectacular and then act, even if you have to  “fake it” until you make it. 

Enjoy your Sabbath 

Love to all

Shauna 

                      Sunsets of Love!

by Shauna V. Brown 

   I recently received a phone call from Peter Breinholt, a talented  and well known musician in the area.  He was looking for a piece of music he had heard about that I had written years ago, called the Red, Red Shawl. He indicated that a man in his stake had inherited the famous shawl, and would be telling the story on an upcoming  pioneer trek.  Peter thought that the music would add an extra flow of emotion and depth to the story. 

        Let me simply share, for those who have never heard of the story:  July 1858. Ann and Robert Parker and their young family were  traveling west with the McArthur Handcart Company. One night as a thunderstorm rolled in, they hastily made camp. It was then that the Parkers discovered their six-year-old boy, Arthur, was missing. Robert and Ann spread the alarm to the rest of the camp. It was then they found that someone had remembered seeing the little boy earlier in the day settling down to rest in a wooded area. He was exhausted from the trip. 

For two days the men in the camp searched for the missing child, and then, with no alternative, the company moved west leaving the family behind to continue the search.  Robert Parker went back alone, but as he left, his wife Ann pinned a red shawl around his shoulders. She said if he found the boy dead to use the shawl to bury him, but if he were alive to use it to signal them as he came back into camp. 

For three nights Ann and her other children waited, watched, prayed, and finally, just as the sun was setting, they caught a glimpse of the shawl waving in the last rays of day.  Prayers had been answered. Upon joining the  rest of the company later, one pioneer journal recorded:  “Robert Parker came into camp with his little boy that had been lost. Great joy throughout the camp. The mother’s joy, I cannot describe.” 

Apparently a woodsman had found the terrified boy and cared for him until his father came. 

 This was a solo, sung by the young Ann Parker in a play depicting that scene. 

RED, RED, SHAWL         by Shauna V. Brown 

Wave this red, red shawl as a signal.  . . .     Wave it high in the sky for me

Wave it ‘ore your head my darling         So I can clearly see.

It will show to me he is living . . . .      That my prayers reached up to God.    

Wave it high and strong my darling       He’s been saved by God.....

But if you find him oh, so quiet.  . . .     Take this red shawl and tenderly

Wrap him up with all my loving                Tell him of eternity.

All my prayers go with you sweetheart  ...     On the venture on this day.

I understand our hearts are breaking           But haste now, don’t delay.

For my prayer is that you’ll find him. . .  Safe and sure along the path.

Please be safe my dear beloved.               God be with you on your way.

    

     Imagine the thoughts, fears, and prayers offered by the young Parker family. Not only for the lost boy, but for the Father who went back amid adversity to find him. 

     I remember with great clarity losing a child. Panic, fear, anxiety, concern, instantly filled my being. Peace and calm couldn’t be had until I held that child once again in my arms.    

      What if during this life’s experience, through storms and darkness I should lose one of them?  Even the very thought makes tears crest upon my cheeks. I love them all so much!  

    Yet, I believe just like Ann Parker, that my Rick, their father, would seek desperately to find, to aid, to bless, and bring back the lost or wandering one.  

Robert Parker, took faith and trust in God and advanced amid the force of piercing winds, Indians and unknown conditions.  His joy was eagerly expressed as he waved the red shawl in the air. Rejoicing aloud to this family, as he carried young Arthur in his arms, “ He lives!”  Imagine the happiness as all embraced the son. 

    Then consider for just a moment as our Father in Heaven looked upon his own Son. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, who wore a royal robe of red, faced the rocky ridges and pathways to the hill they call Calvary.  He advanced, in pain amid the storms of piercing words, pounding nails, and whips. All he endured was to enable and bless each of us to find our way home. 

         I have learned and often share with trek planners that there is symbolism and parallels within the stories of the pioneers. I’m sure if you take a few moments to ponder the parallels you will be amazed at the atoning love. 

 I have thought often of the little mother Ann, who when seeing the sight of the red shawl against the sunset fell to her knees, ever grateful, “He’s alive! - He lives!”

     Since writing the song, Red, Red Shawl,  I have gained a deeper appreciation for sunsets. Sunsets which often stir me to remember, and celebrate that a loving Savior waves a red shawl of atoning love for each of us. 

Together we can proclaim, and unitedly testify that  “ HE LIVES!”  He lives and holds out his arms to every wandering, questioning, and faithful soul.  

Enjoy the Sabbath

Love Shauna 

               Living Deliberately

by Shauna Brown       Yesterday I arose early to enjoy a ‘cup of morning.’ A time to breathe deeply the aroma of life.  Sipping the sunlight I took my camera in hand and sought to capture just a portion of my morning’s tableau. Surrounded by blue, blue sky and puffs of white I smiled with gratitude that I could see it all.  Wiggling my toes in freshly watered grass, I whispered, ‘this is heaven.’  I further scanned and snatched more moments to treasure forever-my time on earth.  Truly, within a matter of clicks it was easy to recognize that God is very much involved in smallest of details.       I was drawn to a large Milkweed plant. I hadn’t seen one for years, but recalled a time when Mama eagerly taught me of it. Picking a large pod off the plant she showed me the thick milky reason for the name, and then popped a large pod wide open. It was magical. Within it revealed thousands of parachutes of silk and seed. She took a handful of the silk and let them drift onto the waves of wind. Thinking of Mama and our precious time together I plucked my own seeds and silk, held them within my hand, “Take one to Mama!” I extended and blew some high into the air. I smiled as I am ever grateful for Mama revealing so many of the masterpieces of God to me. Mama was her own naturalist, lover of life, and always held a deep reverence for all of God’s creations.

         “An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.”  
                        Henry David Thoreau. 

I pondered as I took my morning walk, what it may have been like for Henry David Thoreau, living day to day in his cabin by Walden Pond. Clearly he was tuned to natures vibrations.               As a family years ago we visited Thoreau's Walden Pond.  We walked where he had walked, touched generations of flora, peered within the windows of the small wood cabin and marveled, as such a choice of solidarity could have rendered such wisdom, thoughtful words, illustrations and writings for generations.                  “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; . . . I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life,               “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately...”        Living deliberately, I like that. Fully focused on ideas, passions, intent and trust in God’s purposes and timing.                Just like the Milkweed plant, it grows, the pods develop and the seeds come forth, ripened by the season. Then, when it is time are driven by God’s breath to distant places known to Him.         We too, are one of God’s marvelous creations and come forth accordingly to His plans and timing. We only have but a moment on this earth’s probationary walk. We must treasure it, enjoy it, and savor each step.         I believe, we can never have enough pictures.Pictures that validate our time and allow us to recall.  So, go ahead have all the camera moments you wish. Be sure to take one of a baby sleeping, a smile without a tooth, a big yellow sunflower or daisy to remember that “he loves me.”   A sunset, as to kiss goodbye the day.  A birthday cake to remember that life holds seasons. Rosebuds to recall the sweet fragrance.  A morning sunrise that signals possibilities, chubby hands, wrinkled hands, and milkweeds. Yes, the possibilities are endless but eternal. Isn’t life wonderful?  Breathe and lets all live more deliberately! Enjoy your Sabbath! Love to All,  Shauna