Does the Atonement Really Cover....

There are seasons of the year in my life when I find myself spending much thought on certain personal experiences that cause me pain. During these times I do much heavy soul-searching and often doubt myself and my own ability to repent of actions / behaviors which I would do differently if I could go back in time and know what I know in hindsight. The Fall is one of those times of the year due to happenings of which only I am aware. I found myself in this position this week. Doubting myself seriously.

My husband suffered from and subsequently seemingly lost his life to a vicious disease called Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease. If you research it you will find it is caused by a prion invading the brain tissue. Thus, it becomes a brain wasting disease for which there is no cure by the time it can be diagnosed. In his case as in most, I assume, symptoms do not make themselves manifest until it doesn't leave you much time to prepare, be aware, or deal.

As I saw symptoms in the beginning they were minor things which didn't make sense, so I didn't put two and two together, so to speak. As it rapidly progressed he started to tell me he wasn't sure the best way to get from point A to point B around town. While this caused me concern, I remember talking to him about problem solving and the best way to figure these things out while helping him to do so. And time passed. Rather than belabor my point and because it still causes me pain to go there, I will say no more about that at this time. By the way, the problem solving helps didn't work.

In order to shorten this post, I will simply say, as time passed it became truly frustrating that he could remember less and less and I found myself losing patience with him when I truly should not have. When you lose your patience you sometimes say things you wish you could take back and swallow. Finally, one day he hit a home run with me when his simple reply was, " I just can't help it. I can't remember these things."

I just can't help it! It dawned on me, the light came on! What was going on was beyond his control. No matter how many strategies he knew, no matter how smart he was or how many times he might have done something in prior times, he could not help that his memory was gone. It was beyond his control.

I spend many hours of regret wishing I could re-do these happenings and days -- wondering whether there is truly forgiveness in repentance for this on my part. Does the Atonement really cover and can he forgive me?

That Season Called Fall and 'When The Frost Is On'......

So....once again I find myself crossing the threshold to fall of another year. Never has been my favorite time of the year even though I was born in the midst of the season and find many of its accompanying traits desirable. I am always reminded of one of my favorite poems, "When The Frost Is On The Pumpkin!" You know it goes like this -- maybe you didn't know--

"WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN"


When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
They's something kind o' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here --
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin', and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock --
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries -- kind o' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The straw-stack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below -- the clover over-head, --
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin' 's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! ...
I don't know how to tell it -- but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me --
I'd want to 'commodate 'em -- all the whole-indurin' flock --
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

By James Whitcomb Riley

SO if I love poems such as this so much, why is it that I don't always enjoy Fall as much. Could have something to do with these allergies to grass and ragweed that make me itch from head to toe for a while. Naw, I don't really believe that is it! I think it is probably because I detest Winter so much and I know it is in the wings and cannot let myself live in the moment. Isn't that stupid; but that is the way I rock.
I guess the best way I can handle this whole situation is to enjoy each moment and to remember that joy cometh in the morning! Er,...or is that joy cometh beyond the season of 'ole man Winter!