Below Freezing

Winter used to inspire thoughts of snowy landscapes, sledding and snowball fights with forts and fun and excitement.

The only thing winter inspires now is thoughts of hibernation. Well, that and a big ole whopping tube of Icy Hot.

Most nights, when the thermometer callously and indifferently dips below the freezing mark, I slip into the bedroom ahead of bedtime to begin the nightly ritual that ensures I will be able to move at all the next day.

Clicking the control with my foot, I turn the electric blanket on my bed up to 'barbecue'. By the time I slide between the sheets, I can feel the waves of heat soaking into my aching joints. It makes a difference most days, I promise. Sometimes, I can go through the morning without making 'old lady' noises.

Other days, the heating routine can't compete with my schedule that propels me out my door into the relentless cold that literally freezes my legs into Popsicles...or leg-sicles. Whatever.

It's time for the invention of a lifetime. But lacking the skill to sew up what I am seeing in my mind, I will require a design team with both the skill of a seamstress and the mechanical and electrical know-how of an engineer.

It's time to slip into some 'electric pants'. Yep. if we can make electric blankets then why not 'electric pants'? The gentle heat produced by the electric pants would enable my aching body to enjoy the day instead of dreading the sunrise during the brilliant but cold mornings that are part of the winter.

They could be made of stylish materials that would look decent while going out, yet be fully washable in the average home. They would be equipped with a waterproof plug system that hooked to a lightweight rechargeable battery that offered overnight charging while you were tucked in under the electric blanket on the bed.

I realize this would have a limited consumer appeal. But I can apply for a grant to pay for my start up, production and advertising costs to the same branch of the government that pays for the study of cow farts and the long term uses of manure. I'm quite sure they would pay. This seems just as frivolous...uh...NECESSARY.

I am quite sure there are other people on this planet who feel like their teeth are chattering before the door is quite open and for whom winter is an unkind reminder that their legs are slowly turning into human stalactites. They would appreciate the soothing warmth of electric pants.

Nursing homes and care facilities could be filled with people clad in waterproof and comfortable electric pants that would help keep them warm and possibly healthier during the cold and flu seasons.

During the winter months, attractive patterned stirrup versions would be worn by church-going women who are sick of freezing to death while worshiping at the congregation of their choice.

People who had outside jobs requiring them to suffer in the cold or bundle up like Nanook of the North could benefit from the adjustable heat settings and keep comfortable regardless of the outside temperature. They could be rated for different climates and altitudes.

Bib overall style versions would be appreciated by the farmers on the go as a way of doing their work without as much chill. As a special benefit, a pocket could be created on them which would gently toast sandwiches for consumption during their day of activity away from home.

The possibilities are endless!

In any case, our local weatherman cheerfully informed me it was going to be colder tonight than it was last night. I am ready to slip into my bed beneath my soft, fluffy and WARM electric blanket. I can just read until bedtime. Or I can lie there and stare at the pulled plaster ceiling and see how many cute little animal shapes and faces I can see in the pattern... see, hypothermia is already setting in!! Quick, to the electric blanket!

If I had electric pants, none of this would be happening.

Please send your contributions to me. They won't be tax deductible yet, but they will be most appreciated.

Dig Deep

There is a shovel in our camping trailer that is old, somewhat worn by life and looks every bit like it helped with the hand dug portion of the Panama Canal.

While that is more than likely not true, appearances and a powerfully inventive mind can create something where nothing exists.

My day to day struggle with trying to read, study and ponder over the words of scriptures, lessons and gospel thoughts, habits and actions can in some respect be likened to the old shovel.

Some days, I read and study. Other days, I poke at the effort like a child using a stick in the dirt.

I was somewhat heartened in the Stake Conference talk by Julie Beck about reading and studying. She talked about the need to 'just be in the scriptures everyday'. That seems to be a more understanding approach about the realities of trying to understand and accomodate the life that can tidal wave-like overwhelm my abilities to cope from time to time.

Yet, that doesn't free me up from the necessary obligation to actually do my reading and studying.

Why is it that a novel can grip my emotions and imagination for hours but I don't always have the same feeling in the scriptures.

It's choice.

I can choose to be excited about the latest novel, but studying my Sunday School lesson is a drag.

I can choose to search and struggle through the layers of explanations through the scripture chains and receive the light, or I can remain in the dark and wonder why 'everyone else' is feeling the Spirit.

Using the shovel requires work. It means I'll have sore muscles and eventually, I'll develop an ability to apply its purpose in a meaningful way.

Spiritual effort takes that same determination to achieve the climb up the rungs of a personal spiritual ladder.

I can't start at the top with a full-flowering testimony and epic faith.

Like the shovel and the digging, I have to start by scratching the surface. I have to reveal layer upon layer of all that has gone before and gain an understanding of just how I can apply it.

I remember as a child deciding that I wanted to dig to China. It couldn't be that far, I reasoned.

But as the hot summer day wore on, I realized that the cold lemonade and cookies inside sounded far better than the continued effort with the shovel, which was by now creating a healthy blister on my hand.

Abandoning the effort, I was simply satisfied to say 'I tried'.

Older but not neccessarily wiser now, I wonder if I am using the same justification to prevent the deep and pondering digging required to truly gain the kind of resolute and profound testimony that can exalt.

Allowing the things of the world to intrude upon the most important matters?

Time to dust off the gospel shovel and dig in...