Oh hello. I was just explaining to your associate James the nature of my claim. Again? Alright I will explain it one more time but I do wish you will keep better notes than your coworkers. After all, this is the fourth time I will relate the matter. It is getting tiresome.
Shorts
Short stories and articles.
Meet My Pet Monster: Social Anxiety
A question I get asked is, “What is it like to suffer from social anxiety?” Actually, I cleaned up the question a bit, but that’s the essence. I could counter with, “What’s it like not to suffer from social anxiety?” Ever since I can remember, I’ve had this problem. When I was in therapy a few years ago, I wrote an abstract story to describe what I feel like (The Traveler and the Little Girl). What? Too trippy? Let me try and explain a little clearer.
The Traveler and the Little Girl: Living with Social Anxiety
* In recognition of May’s Mental Awareness Month I am posting two of the blogs I wrote describing Social Anxiety. I encourage anyone who needs help to seek it.*
The tired old traveler looked down at the invitation he held in his hands and stared at the brilliant white paper with gold ink. He looked at the address on the invitation and slowly looked at the building in front of him and his eyes rested on the corresponding numbers from the invitation. Fate had brought him back once again. He lifted his hat with his right hand and ran his left hand through his silver hair and tugged on his ponytail. He now came more out of a sense of gratitude. All that he had acquired in his life, had come from attending the party in times past.
His deep blue eyes caught a slight movement to the right of the building and he glanced in that direction. To his surprise, he saw a small wooden door. Not as flashy as the main door, it was no surprise he had never noticed it before. Did that lead to the party also? Why would two doors to the same place be so near each other and so different? His curiosity got the better of him and he walked slowly to the small door. As he approached, he glanced at the large flashy door just yards away and knocked on the small brown door.
There was no answer so he knocked again. Still no answer. Curiosity leading him along, he put his hand on the knob and turned it. He squinted as the door opened to a small white room. There wasn’t much in the room, except a large window in the wall opposite him, a bright yellow door in the wall to his left, and a swing hanging down from the ceiling. To his surprise, a little girl dressed in white was sitting with her knees tucked under her chin in the far corner.
“Excuse me,” said the traveler feeling a little embarrassed that he intruded upon her solitude. “I didn’t know anybody was here.” He started to back out but stopped when he noticed the girl didn’t look at him. “Do you live here?” he asked unwilling to leave such a young girl by herself.
The girl glanced at him but did not speak. He could feel her eyes studying him. “I’m sorry,” she said almost surprising herself more than the traveler. “I was surprised when you used my language. It’s been awhile since anyone has spoken to me. Sometimes I forget what words sound like.”
“What is this place?” he asked looking at the nearly bare room. “Surely, no one lives here?”
The girl shrugged her shoulders.
“You don’t live here, do you?” he asked.
She continued to study him for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve spent an awful long time here though. I can’t remember where I live now, if I even have a home,” sadness colored her speech a little and made her voice squeak.
“Who built this place?” the traveler asked.
Her eyes darted around the room before falling upon him again. “I don’t know.”
He put his hand to his mouth and pulled it down over his mouth, “What are you doing here?”
She looked down and back at him. “Do you really want to know?”
He nodded his head slowly.
“When I was a little girl…” she started slowly.
The traveler had to cover his mouth with his hand quickly so she wouldn’t see him chuckle. “Must have been a long time ago.”
She looked at him. “My mother taught me to never to walk through a yellow door. Yellow doors are bad luck and should always be avoided.”
He nodded his head even though it was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. “But what about this door?” he asked pointing behind him to the brown door he had come in. “Why can’t you go out this door?”
“Try it.” she said and waited as he searched the door.
“There’s no handle.”
“And no way to open the door once it closes. The people who have passed through this room have all tried.” She saw him glance at the window. “They’ve tried breaking the window, too.”
He sighed as he surveyed the room. “And you won’t go through that door, just to get out?”
“Out?” she asked as she opened a pocket in her dress pulled out a white paper with yellowed edges.
The traveler recognized it at once as it looked like the one he had in his pocket. But he took the outstretched one anyway and looked at it. The corners were a bit torn and it seemed to roll naturally in a certain way. He also noticed little round blurred spots and wondered if they had been caused by teardrops.
He looked at her waiting for more of her explanation.
“I’m invited to the party.”
“The party?” he asked. “The party is right through the door, you are so close.”
She squinted her eyes at him. “I know. I lean against the wall and listen to the music and try to imagine what’s going on.”
The traveler listened for a moment. “That’s ridiculous, nothing will happen to you by going through a yellow door. Come,” he held his hand out to her. “Take my hand and I will show you. We will enter together.”
She looked at his hand and stepped back to the far wall. “You’re not the first to say that.” She motioned to his hand, “Or to offer that. But it’s no use. Once, someone even opened the door for me and I stood on the threshold, but I could not make myself take that step.”
He continued to hold out his hand before slowly dropping it to his side. “So what?” he asked, “you plan on staying in this room forever?”
Her look became agitated and she slid down the wall and sat in the same place he had found her. “I’ve tried everything. I banged on the door, but the music is always too loud. I’ve waited by the brown door for what feels like forever and nobody comes in. Nobody seems to come in until I’ve given up. I didn’t even realize you were in here until after the door had closed. “I’ve even offered people this,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box and carefully opened it. Inside was a beautiful white pearl. “If they would only remember me after they left the party and open the brown door before they left. But a lot of people must have pearls, because no one has remembered to come back for me. All of them tried to get me to come, but I can’t do it. So, they eventually leave me.”
“So you stay here alone?” the traveler asked.
Her eyes got big. “Not exactly alone. I have found a talking spider who likes to sit on my shoulder. Mostly he just tells me how bad yellow doors are.”
“A spider?”
“That’s why I’m glad there’s a swing. It seems that when he gets too loud for me and I start to get a headache, I can swing and calm him down some so that he’ll quit talking to me for awhile.”
The old man squinted his eyes studying her shoulder and sure enough, saw a little black dot on her white gown. “It seems to me that you have to get rid of that spider all together.”
She covered her shoulder with her opposite hand to protect the spider. “But he is my only friend.”
“You don’t need a spider,” the old man started to walk toward her.
“I do, I do need him. He is the only one I can rely on.”
The traveler stopped and backed toward the door as he did so he could see her relax. “I want to help, how can I help?”
The little girl looked down. “After you leave the party, come back and open the brown door for me.”
He nodded his head. “I promise.” His eyes followed her glance to the yellow door. “I guess it’s time for me to leave.” It only took two steps to reach the yellow door, he looked back at the girl just as her eyes began to tear up.
“Don’t forget me,” she cried out.
“Never,” he said softly and opened the door. The party was in full swing and as he shut the door behind him, he soon forgot all about the little girl and his promise. Just as the little girl expected he would.
The Quest for Beauty
(fiction)
Dylan knew something nobody else realized. She knew there was something inside her. Something trying to find it’s way out. Something beautiful. And she just knew, if she could find someway to let it out, it would touch other people. Maybe even help them. There were only two problems: 1) she didn’t know how to get it out, and 2) she didn’t exactly know what it was she needed to get out. But she knew something was in there.
One day, she heard a beautiful song. “Maybe,” she said, “my beauty will come out as a song.” So she sat down at the piano to compose a beautiful song. The only trouble was, she didn’t know how to compose music. It didn’t matter to her, she moved her fingers along the keys just like she had seen her sister do. But her mom came in and told her to quit pounding on the piano. “Maybe,” Dylan said, “my beauty isn’t a song after all.”
But what could it be?
A few days later, her mother read her a bedtime story. Dylan noticed her mother sniffing. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“This is such a beautiful story,” her mother smiled through her tears. “It’s been my favorite since I was your age.”
A story can be beautiful? Dylan thought. Oh, yes, I will write a beautiful story.
The next day, Dylan sat down to write. But she didn’t know what to write about. She kept thinking about the story from the night before. “I can’t write a story that’s already been written,” she decided and put her pen and paper away.
How was she ever going to let the beauty out?
A few days later, her parents took her to a play. The play made her laugh. At the end everyone clapped.
“Beautiful,” she heard someone behind her exclaim.
Beautiful? Dylan thought. Maybe I can be an actress.
The next time her school had a play, she tried out. But didn’t get a part.
That night, her mother heard her crying in her bedroom.
“What’s wrong?” her mother asked gently.
“I don’t know how to get my beauty out,” sobbed Dylan.
“Your beauty?” her mother asked while dabbing Dylan’s tears with a kleenex.
“I tried composing a song, but I can’t even read music. So I tried writing a story and I couldn’t think of anything to write. So I thought I’d be an actress, and I didn’t get a part in the school play. Maybe there’s no beauty in me after all!”
Her mother hugged her gently. “There’s beauty in you.”
Dylan looked at her mother. “You have to say that, you’re my mother.”
Her mother smiled warmly. “Hey, I happen to know it’s true.”
Dylan looked down at the floor, still unable to believe her.
“Some people have to compose a song, write a story, or act in a play to let their beauty shine, but you don’t.”
Dylan sniffed. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Her mother hugged her again. “You don’t need to do all that, you have a better way to let your beauty out.”
“I do?”
“Of course.”
Dylan waited for an explanation. “How?”
Her mother gently clicked foreheads with her. “Through your smile and laugh. Everybody loves your smile and they love to hear you laugh.”
“They do?” Dylan asked hopefully.
“They do. People tell me all the time what a warm smile you have. I know for a fact, it has cheered up many people.”
“It has?” Dylan couldn’t help but smile.
“See,” her mom grabbed a hand mirror off the dresser. “See what other people see? That right there is the most beautiful thing.”
Dylan couldn’t help herself and looked in the mirror. She had to admit, It was a pretty good smile. She might even say, it was beautiful.
What If: The Newest Angel
This is completely a work of fiction based on my own thoughts. Its intent is to bring comfort on the big What If… I consider it to be made of 88% speculation and 12% hope. Or maybe it’s the other way around? Be warned – it’s quite lengthy. I guess I’ve got a lot of speculating to do. Continue reading
Thank You Ms. Szemenski
His Story…
“Hold the elevator!” I called to Ms. Szemenski. She scrunched her nose at me as the doors closed. “That woman is evil,” I said out loud to what I thought was the empty lobby.
“You think so?” I heard a familiar voice behind me say.
I turned around quickly, embarrassed anyone heard me. “Oh, I’m glad it’s you,” I said to Riley, my gorgeous next door neighbor. “I thought you were Szemenski’s daughter, then I’d really be in for it.” It was a supposed to be a witty joke, and Riley was kind enough to smile politely, “Not that I could mistake you for her,” I thought of how closely Szemenski’s daughter resembled a sumo wrestler, “or anything.”
“Glad to hear it, Kurt,” Riley continued to smile her polite, yet dazzling smile as she pushed the ‘up’ button for the elevator.
I decided the best thing to do would be to change topics. “So, you’re playing a gig tonight?” As soon as I said the word ‘gig’ both of us flinched, there’s some vernacular I really shouldn’t try to use.
She nodded and her blue eyes seemed to pierce my very soul. The elevator dinged to announce it’s presence to us. I thought I had to be dreaming and yelled, “Five more minutes!” My arm spastically went flying behind me searching for my alarm clock.
Riley laughed nervously. “I think you just need to step in,” she said trying to get to the elevator behind me without getting too close to me or my waving arm.
I forced a laugh that probably made her more nervous and followed her in.
The doors closed and we were the only two in the elevator. Thank you Mrs. Szemenski, I thought, now is the time to be cool and witty.
The elevator car was very quiet.
“So,” she said apparently forgetting about the spastic arm just seconds earlier, “you just getting off work?”
I tugged at my tie to loosen it. “Yeah,”play it cool, “You?”
She nodded, “Yeah, just in time to change and head to the bar to set up for tonight.” Her fingers were playing with the top button of her pizza uniform.
“Oh,” I said searching for something witty but my mind went completely blank like a computer screen during a power outage. “So, you work for We Za Pizza, now? How do you like that?”
Riley looked at me. “It’s a job. Better hours than the department store, so that’s nice.” She hit the button to her floor again as if to make it hurry faster.
I looked at the doors. “That’s good,” I had no idea what I was saying. If only I could think of something amusing to say. Nothing came to me. “So, I was thinking, maybe some friends and I might come tonight. To listen to your band play, of course.”
I followed as her eyes looked down at my feet and slowly made their way up to my face. “I don’t think we play your kind of music,” she said slowly.
“No, see, I know this is how I look now, but it’s just for work. I clean up nicely, well, not that I wouldn’t be clean if I were to dress…” Danger Will Robinson, will somebody please shut me up! “That is to say, I mean, I look different now, but that’s just the work side of me. I have many different sides to me. I am a very complicated… fellow.”
Why don’t I just use my tie as a noose and put everyone out of their misery?
I held my breath waiting for her reaction to my blundering. If she never answered, I was prepared to die from asphyxiation. After my rambling, I would be doing a service for everyone.
To my relief, she smiled again, and I was able to release my intake of air. Unfortunately, I blew it right in her face.
She blinked her eyes. “We play at ten tonight.” Again, she sized me up. “Is that too late for you?”
“No!” Does she think I’m some kind of kid? “Today’s Friday, so I can sleep in tomorrow.” I stared straight ahead after I said it. Did I really have to share that much info with her?
She laughed. “Well, it will be nice to have a fan in the audience.” The elevator stopped at our floor and the door opened. “I’ll see you tonight.” We stepped out of the elevator and walked to our apartments.
Only after I closed my door did I realize, Who am I going to get to come with me tonight? I have no friends here, yet. No matter. One way or another I was going to hear Riley’s band. Thank you Ms. Szemenski.
*********
Her Story…
“Hold the elevator!” Kurt hollered as the door was closing. Whoever was inside, let it close and I figured there was only one tenant in the building who would do such a thing: Ms. Szemenski.
“That woman is evil,” Kurt said.
“You think so?” I answered sarcastically.
Kurt jumped and turned around. “Oh, I’m glad it’s you,” he said and I couldn’t help but smile. He was tall, even taller than me, with brown wavy hair, but clean cut, and the most brilliant green eyes. ““I thought you were Szemenski’s daughter, then I’d really be in for it.” He spoke rapidly, “Not that I could mistake you for her, or anything.” Too bad I’m not his type. I looked down at my bare midriff where my ring was poking out of my belly button. Definitely not his type.
“Glad to hear it, Kurt,” I can be just as polite as he is, and I forced a smile. I pushed the ‘up’ button for the elevator.
“So,” he spoke again politely, “you’re playing a gig tonight?” I flinched because it was embarrassing he knew we were always playing at the same old bar.
The elevator dinged and he jumped. He yelled, “Five more minutes,” and he reached his arm back like he was looking for an alarm clock. It was as if he was acting goofy on purpose to cheer me up. It was working. “I think you just need to step in,” I said as I laughed nervously and stepped into the car. How could he possibly of known I had a rotten day and needed to laugh?
The doors closed and we were alone. I could have asked him several questions like how he liked being here since he moved in a month ago. Any number of things, but I figured he was used to more sophisticated conversation. “So, you just getting off work?”
“Yeah, you?” he asked. I felt like our conversation was like the old Atari game pong. And just as exciting.
I nodded, and could feel my cheeks turn red as I looked at my uniform. As embarrassing as it was for him to know my band was playing at the same old bar, me working at the pizza place was worse. “Yeah, just in time to change and head to the bar to set up for tonight,”
“Oh,” he said coolly. “So, you work for We Za Pizza now?” I closed my eyes as I realized the last time I talked to him, I still had my old job. I could just imagine him keeping some giant checklist with all the girls he meets and right now my name just received a huge checkmark beside the word FLAKE. “How do you like that?”
I had to be honest. I looked into his eyes, hoping he’d see the real me, and answered, “It’s a job.” That’s where the honesty ended. “ Better hours than the department store, so that’s nice.” Truth was, I got fired for being late too many times. It’s hard to get up in the mornings after playing at the bar all night.
I hit the button to my floor again to make the elevator go faster. I really didn’t want him to think I was a complete idiot before we got out of the elevator.
“That’s good,” he said nicely. “So, I was thinking, maybe some friends and I might come tonight.” I looked at him. “To listen to your band play, of course.”
He wants to come and listen to my band play? I looked at him from toe to head and realized, he was too uptown for the dive we play at. “I don’t think we play your kind of music.”
“No, see, I know this is how I look now,” he spoke rapidly, “but it’s just for work. I clean up nicely, well, not that I wouldn’t be clean if I were to dress…” He rambled on. I was used to guys who weren’t nervous around me at all, they just took what they wanted and said what they wanted without really respecting my feelings or thoughts. Kurt was different. Kurt was a nice guy and was a little nervous around me. I felt flattered and I hadn’t felt that way in a long time.
“I am a very complicated,” he continued, “fellow.”
I couldn’t help but smile and I could feel his hot breath on my face. “We play at ten tonight.” I looked at him again, worried that he might have to get up early in the morning for work. “Is that too late for you?”
“No!” He exclaimed. “Today’s Friday, I can sleep in tomorrow.”
I couldn’t help myself and laughed. “Well, it will be nice to have a fan in the audience,” and I meant it more than he realized. Normally, we just get a bunch of drunks who could not care less for our music and were there for the socializing.
The elevator opened to our floor. “I’ll see you at ten, then.” We stepped out and walked down the hall. I couldn’t help but smile. Thank you Mrs. Szemenski.
The Magic of Hoffoody
(fiction)
Brrrng!
The class bell caused me to jump. Lunch time, or as I think of it, the worst time of the day. Slowly, I gathered my books as the rest of the class hurried out the door. By the time I closed my locker, the hallway was nearly empty.
I used to sneak to the library and eat my sandwich there. But, one day I was unaware Mr. Peterson was combing the aisles. Right away, he smelled my peanut butter and tuna fish sandwich.
He caught me mid-bite.
No longer was I allowed to hide in the library during lunch time. I took a deep breath and pushed on the heavy cafeteria door.
Noise surrounded me as I entered. Eagerly, I looked at the teacher’s table hoping there would be reinforcements for protection. No such luck. The only teacher sitting there was Nervous Nelson. He earned his nickname because he just sits and sips his coffee. Even during class.
Things Happen
This is my recollection of events that changed my family’s life.
It was in the fall of 2007 and my mom had been sick for months. Though, every time she was questioned about it, she always had a self-diagnosis ready. My dad had torn his rotator-cuff and needed surgery in Laramie, 200 miles to the east. I had just started a new job and wasn’t comfortable enough requesting time off which meant mom had to take him. I knew she wasn’t physically well but she insisted on being his driver. I prayed the whole time they were gone that they would have a safe trip.
Moab in August
I like to take vacations for my birthday in August. One year, I convinced my sister NJ to go to Moab with me. We were excited for our vacation. We were camping for the weekend and staying at a KOA in Moab, Utah, and it was our first time going there. Our destination: Arches National Park. I had seen pictures and postcards of the arches and various people posing by the arches and decided it might be fun. NJ went along for the ride.
When we started Saturday morning, the weather was a bit rainy. We thought it prudent to take our jackets – and left the sun-screen. Another item left behind was food – we weren’t really that hungry. But we did remember to bring water.
My car had been suffering with arthritis for some time. Meaning, I could usually roll the power windows down, but couldn’t get them up for hours. I rolled my window down as far as it would go – about 1/4 way and paid our entry fee to the park. The window, of course, didn’t roll back up. A slight drizzle of rain fell and I got a little wet as we drove in the park. We had a map with us and decided we’d follow the road as far as it went, and stop along the way.
Our first stop was at the Windows. Luckily, enough time had passed that I managed to get my window up. I was more concerned about rain getting in than an intruder. Who would want my car?! Then again, the only place my car has ever been broken into is Utah.
We eagerly walked the small hike up to the Windows and took our photos. This was pre-Facebook so the pictures are actually still on my camera. We decided against walking to Turret, as that seemed a little more distant (little did we know what was in store for us!).
Again we drove and I turned on my windshield wipers because of the rain. Somewhere we were to find a formation called “Elephant March,” and I wanted to be sure to take pictures of it for my niece, MM. MM loves elephants. She was supposed to be with us (and her mother) but they got a better offer to do something else and ditched us.
Most of my pictures ended up being various angles of the elephant rock. “Oh, this angle is better, look at that,” (click) “Oh, look at it now!” (click). You would have thought it was a real elephant herd moving.
My list of must sees consisted of seeing the Delicate Arch. Which was our next stop. I looked at the clock. It was still morning. “We’ll be back at our kabin (KOA thinks it’s cute to misspell “C” words. Konfusing kids everywhere, I’m sure!) by two or two-thirty at the latest by this rate!” I exclaimed.
The parking lot to the largest arch was nearly full but we found a spot. “I don’t see it,” I said as I looked at the map again. We got out and read the sign explaining about the arch. We were going to have to hike. That’s okay, we said enthusiastically. After all, we were camping. The sky was still spotted with clouds, so we tied our jackets around our waists. NJ grabbed a bottle of water. “Want one?” she asked.
“Nah, I don’t think I’ll need one,” I said making sure I had my camera. “I don’t usually get thirsty and I don’t want to carry a bottle.”
We locked up the car and walked over to the sign again. One and a half miles. We could do that. I quickly calculated my usual walks. This would be easy.
The two of us started off, so eager, so energetic. We took a small detour to see petroglyphs and an old cabin along the way. An old cowboy had actually lived out there due to health reasons. When his daughter and her family came to stay with him though, she hated the area and convinced her dad to move with them elsewhere.
Oh, the two of us were setting quite the pace. We came to an area where the trail was on rock. We diligently followed the trail markers (piles of rocks). There were also plenty of people coming down and passing us. It was easy to follow the trail even though it wasn’t a dirt path any longer.
We got to the top of the rock and were feeling a bit tired. I discovered NJ doesn’t like walking up hills, she lagged behind every hill we came to. Another thing we started to notice: the clouds disappeared. The sun was beginning to punish us silly people for trying to exert energy. But we had to be getting closer. For it being the biggest arch, I thought it would be coming into view very soon.
The two of us continued on. Then an odd thing happened. We were the only two walking the trail. The path had become a dirt trail again, easier to follow. But there were still piles of rocks to follow also.
We came to a small line of rocks. I thought it was odd because unlike the piles of rocks, these were laid end to end. “What does that mean?” I asked NJ who had just caught up. “This looks like a dam or something.” We were still the only two on the trail so I made a decision. On the other side of the dam was a pile of rocks, albeit, a smaller pile than previous ones.
I stepped over the dam, though I still wasn’t completely sure. We continued to walk a dirt path down and up as is the case when walking in the mountainous desert. NJ fell behind again. After several moments, and climbing another hill, I thought it strange that we had not seen another person for sometime. I thought NJ was about to faint as she seemed to be forcing herself to make each step. I looked ahead and there was still another dip and another larger hill in front of us. “This doesn’t feel right,” I called to NJ. “What should we do?”
Her face registered panic.
“It’s the biggest arch in the park, why can’t we see it?”
She looked around.
“Should we go back and try to find the trail again? (By this time, my trail had become narrower and narrower almost disappearing completely). Or should we keep going? It’s gotta be over that next hill.” Of course, that’s what I had been thinking for sometime. “It’s the biggest arch, why can’t we see it!” I repeated like a crazy person.
NJ was barely moving. I decided to backtrack. It didn’t take long until I saw some people walking towards us. I watched them like a mountain lion studying its prey. They were walking in our direction, looking at us as if we were crazy, then they turned. Turned?! I focused on the tree they turned at so that I could find it when we got closer. I beckoned to NJ to follow me and headed for that tree.
The tree was by the dam we had stepped over. I stepped over the dam again and realized it was telling us to turn. Oops! Silly me. I misread the signs. NJ caught up to me and didn’t look like someone who was in the mood for mistakes. “Sorry,” I said as nicely as possible. But then I realized it wasn’t all my fault, why didn’t she speak up? “I could’ve used some help reading the markers, you know.”
“What markers?”
We made the turn and again found the trail. The last part was walking up more rock, it was a rock ledge actually. NJ was behind me again.
Finally, we walked around the corner and there it was! The biggest arch. “That is big,” I said. Why couldn’t we see it from where we were?
We took as many pictures as we could before we started back down. As much as NJ dislikes walking uphill, she loves walking downhill. She took the lead for most of the walk back (except for one hill we had to climb, I passed her. As soon as we were going downhill again, she passed me). I was left to myself to think of our hike, the sun which felt like it was melting my clothes into my skin, how thirsty I was (NJ shared her water but I didn’t think it would be fair for me to drink that much of it, since she was the one carrying it), how my feet were aching, how hard it is to walk on rock (it seemed to jar my whole body), and how I didn’t think I was ever going to see the car again.
But another thought came to me. The thought that I am on this path, this journey of life with trail markers leading me along. If I lose focus, or go after other markers, I could lose sight of my goal completely. I could not even see the arch (even though I had to be close) from where we had stopped. There was only one path to follow to get to our destination, and I made us work harder than we needed to work.
Our experience also reminded me of the John Wayne saying, “Life is hard. It’s even harder if you’re stupid.”
After we got to the car, we decided if we couldn’t see anything without walking, we didn’t necessarily need to see it.
After relating our experience to the family, MM used it in her talk for sacrament meeting. Though she improvised a few facts. We were not “looking for a shortcut,” – we were just too stupid to read the markers – and we didn’t “jump over a wall.” It was merely a step.
ck's days 