We can take some lessons in building our lives from the builders of Florence’s signature piece of Renaissance architecture.

A poet my husband introduced me to, Theodore Roethke, wrote, “We learn by going where we need to go.” Elder Holland in his address “Cast Not Away Therefore thy Confidence” talked about the courage we must have when we are penned in by figurative Egyptians. No one had ever crossed the Red Sea on dry ground, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. He imagined that Moses had to prove his faith by getting his toes wet before the sea parted.

Everyone who has visited Florence has seen the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, more commonly known as the Duomo (Dome in Italian). The Duomo is capped by the first large dome to be built in the Renaissance, required an almost unbelievable amount of faith by its architects and I think we can draw lessons on faith and hope from it. No one knew how to build such a huge dome when construction was begun. After one hundred years of work, most of the structure of the cathedral was finished, with the builders confidently leaving an enormous hole in the ceiling for a future dome. (Click on photo for larger view.)

The generation that began the dome, spearheaded by architect Filippo Brunelleschi, had no idea how it was to be done, but they started it, using the locally manufactured terra cotta brick. By the standards of that time, a dome of such great size would collapse under its own weight and some large medieval cathedrals had collapsed during construction. The builders went as far as they could using conventional techniques, then contemplated alternatives. Brunelleschi finally conceived of building a smaller dome first to support the structure of the larger dome. This and many other unknown and unorthodox methods were developed and the great dome was completed in 1436. The Duomo has become the most prominent symbol of the beginning of the great Renaissance, which began in Florence, then spread through Italy and the rest of Europe. The Duomo was the prototype for St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome and every other large dome built during that era.

The great thing about the Renaissance was that its artists (an astounding number rose to prominence in a single place—Florence—much like the miracle of the Founding Fathers congregating in Philadelphia) were not afraid to “push the envelope.” Michelangelo had to have been taught by the Lord, for no one else schooled him to be the greatest sculptor of modern times. And the things he had to know about the pre-existence and creation of man are illustrated on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. This scene shows God reaching out to give the divine spark of life to Adam. Most people see that. But what is less evident, is that Elohim’s other arm is around a woman. Could it be Heavenly Mother? Behind Him and this cherished woman are a barely formed press of Spirit children that appear to go on to infinity. This knowledge had to be imparted to Michelangelo by our Heavenly Father. The artist is labeled a humanist, because he portrayed these sacred personalities in human form. However, the artist knew, as we know, that the Creator does have a human form, or perhaps we should say WE have a celestial form. (Click on photo for larger view.)

What is there for us to learn from Brunelleschi, Michelangelo, and the other great artists who seemingly rose from the darkness of the Middle Ages? For me, it is to have vision past the ordinary and the mundane. To use the gifts of creativity I have been given to cross my Red Sea or build my Duomo. To align my will with the Father’s and dare to see what He wants me to accomplish, brick by brick, step by step.

I recently attended a Deseret Book banquet where President Eyring was the speaker. He spoke of the Light of Christ that is in all of God’s children when they come to earth. He likened it to a computer search engine. He said these “search engines” were constantly seeking the Light everywhere. President Eyring said that we who have the Gospel, have the light, and that we must rise to the occasion by shining that light and drawing all seekers of light to us.

That is a tall order. He was speaking to authors, musicians, and artists. However, the same is true in every field of worthy endeavor. We may not see immediately how something is to be done. We may serve a long apprenticeship. We may be the foundation for someone else’s work. However, Zion will eventually shine with a light that will be seen by all the world. Those who hate God will be afraid of that light. But those who love Him will be drawn to it.

The Restoration of the Gospel the greatest renaissance of all time, and the greatest spirits of the pre-existence were reserved to come forth and shine their lights in this time. Look how Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ magnified the unlearned schoolboy, Joseph Smith! We can all be stretched, if we are willing to consecrate our talents unto the Lord. Eventually, because we have the whole truth, we as a Zion society, will be a beacon to the world.

Dear fans,

You have until April 15 to produce a work of fan fiction! The topic? The weddings of Alex and Briggie. The length? Anything over 8 pp. You can also make your fiction more interesting by casting all the characters (how many can you get in there?) as movie people. Am particularly interested to see whom you cast as Charles! Be sure to include a guest list! (You may increase your chances of winning if you have read all the books and know who should be invited!) You are free to make the weddings separate or together, design wedding invitations, clothing, etc. Remember that Briggie is already sealed to her Ned, so she can’t be sealed to Richard.

If you want to throw a mystery in there, feel free. But Alex and Briggie have to solve it.

Submit to my e-mail ggvan1@gmail.com as an attachment with your name, e-mail address, and page number on each page.

The prize: The top three entries will receive a $20.00 gift card from Deseret Book.

So try your wings at some fiction with these well-beloved characters! I look forward to your entries!

Both Heather Moore and Michele Ashman Bell have posted great reviews of David’s recently published book, I Need Thee Every Hour: Applying the Atonement in our Daily Lives, on LDSReaders.com and micheleabell.blogspot.com  In case you think that this is “just another book on the atonement,” you might be interested in Jeffrey Needle’s review that appeared today on the Association of Mormon Letters list today.  I have copied it here, for those who don’t belong to the list:

Reviewed by Jeffrey Needle
A case can be made that we have enough books about the atonement. We
can easily figure it all out with what we have. We need no more. But
is this really true? When you have a subject as all-encompassing as the
atonement of Jesus Christ, when do we really exhaust ways of
understanding this central event in human history? As the author quotes
on page 25:
"The Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ is the heart and core and center
of revealed religion." (Bruce R. McConkie)
Using many personal experiences as models for his understanding of
Christ and of the Church, the author projects from these experiences and
extrapolates teachings which, if learned and lived, will surely bring a
person closer to Christ. Sometimes this means giving up old, outmoded
models. There are as many wrong notions about salvation and acceptance
with God as there are right models. Vandagriff provides a much needed
corrective to the schemes of Gospel understanding that so typified a
generation of young Christians — schemes that were heavy on guilt and
perfectionism, and light on the dynamic power of the atonement to lead
and guide Christians in living their daily lives.
But let’s not confuse the author’s thesis with easy-believism. He
retains a certainty that obedience and growth are necessary in your
journey back to God. He doesn’t want lazy Christians who see the
Atonement as Jesus having done all the work for them. Instead, we all
must "work out our own salvation in fear and trembling." But along the
way, we can be assured that Christ’s atoning life and death are with us
as fellow-travelers.
Some readers will recognize the name Vandagriff. G.G. Vandagriff writes
LDS fiction that has been read by many here. G.G. is the author’s wife.
She plays a prominent role in this book. References to the popular
writer will delight fans of G.G.’s writing.
The author sums up his thesis with this healing thought:
"Whether we are wounded by terrible trials or scarred by vile sins,
Christ takes our wounds and makes them His. He lifts them off us if we
will allow Him to do so and enables us to heal and find peace. If we
can learn and never forget this fundamental and most important truth, if
we can get it into the deepest parts of our soul, we can enjoy the
excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ. We will truly know Him and
the power of His redemption through the intimate fellowship that we gain
through His and our shared sufferings." (p. 111)
Perhaps some have moved past the point where they can feel within
themselves the healing nature of the presence of God in our lives. But
many who fill the pews each Sunday go away feeling a bit more religious,
but not even a bit more spiritual. It takes a willing heart, and an
open mind, to allow the love of God to embrace us and encompass our lives.
And this, according to Vandagriff, is where a knowledge, and an
internalization, of the atonement becomes a vital necessity.
Vandagriff has penned a deeply personal, and often moving, account of
how he has discovered in his own life the power of the atonement to
bring meaning to life. This is not a profound doctrinal book, neither
was it designed to be so. This is a pastoral work that many readers
will find comforting and informative

When I think of crossroads, I see a rural landscape with two country roads dividing the picture into four equal squares.  In the middle is a puzzled man, looking down all the emptiness, wondering which way to turn to reach his goal.

However, in my experience, when we come to a crossroads in mortality—a decision that will change our whole direction and way of life, we usually don’t see it marked.  We might be in the midst of stress, illness, despair, infatuation, or blinded by happiness.  There are people all around us, usually making demands or requiring our attention.  In short, we are not alone in a field with a clear-cut view of our direction. 

The way we choose to go is determined by the character we have spent our lives developing.  Because of this, no choices we make at our crossroads are accidental.  We won’t miss the right turning if we have prepared ourselves by putting the Lord first in our lives, by consistently praying to know His will, and by learning to recognize the Spirit.  The fact is, if we’re on the right road to begin with, holding on to the Iron Rod, we will usually make the right choice without realizing it.

I have been thinking about crossroads a lot in the past couple of days because I have been given a new perspective on a crossroad that my husband and I faced nearly six years ago.  The turn we took changed our lives out of all recognition and led us down the path we never dreamed we would find.

I was slogging along, doing the best that I could with my 22 year old illness–depression.  David was doing his best to support me and growing very weary, but remaining faithful.  Out of the blue, David and I were asked to speak with the Stake Presidency of the 9th BYU Stake.  President Griffith eased our natural anxiety by telling us this was just a “get acquainted visit,” but they were searching for a new Bishop for the BYU 28th ward.  I shrank into myself.  David had been a Bishop before.  He had given himself to the task 24/7, and that time coincided with the beginning of my illness.  It was one of the hardest periods in my life.

David informed the Stake President of this fact, and we thought that would be the end of the matter.  However, a few weeks later, we were called back in.  David was issued a formal call to be Bishop.  I reminded the leader frantically of my depression.  He said, “That’s one of the reasons the Lord wants David in this calling.”  (We have just recently learned that the Stake President, in following the Spirit, was going against our home bishop’s advice.  Our bishop was sure that I was too ill for David to leave me for long periods of time.) 

It was only because of our temple covenants that we accepted the call.  However, because of that weary decision, our lives were changed forever.  President Griffith told us that the Stake Agenda was to preach the Atonement in every talk and every lesson in our new ward.

Many of the rewards of this new calling came immediately.  Working with the BYU students was so uplifting that even I could feel the Spirit. (During depression, it is very uncommon for the person who is ill to be able to feel the Spirit.)  Studying the atonement in all its amazing complexity and applications was a completely new experience, and offered hope to us that perhaps our lives could be changed through the enabling power of our Savior’s sacrifice for us.

The third year David was in this calling, I finally knew enough about the divine subject to trust the Lord completely.  I laid my burden at his feet with some trepidation.  However, after this act of supreme faith on my part, I was given the medications to cure my illness not even a week later.  I have told that story many times in this space.

My life changed directions from down to up.  So did David’s.  He learned the skills of applying the atonement in his daily life to the extent that he was also given the inspiration and guidance to take an entirely different direction professionally.  This has proven to be a tremendous miracle in our lives.

We would still be on that sad and lonely trail if President Griffith hadn’t persisted and followed the Spirit in forcing us to choose at that crossroads.  Past experience dictated that we were in for a rough time.  However, our choice was rewarded by blessings unnumbered.  We are on a different road, a road that could only have been accessed by faith during a dark time in our lives.

I am so grateful for the choice that we made, simply because we had learned to sacrifice.  It was an “invisible crossroad” and we never had any idea that it would change us forever

I was very interested to read the Church’s statement on what members could do to help mitigate the tragedy in Haiti. 

“Money is not the only need in Haiti. People are frightened, bewildered, and wholly uncertain about their future. In addition to what people can do in helping with food, water and shelter, there needs to be a calming influence over that troubled nation. We invite our people everywhere to supplicate God for a spirit of calm and peace among the people as urgent aid and reconstruction efforts continue” (lds.org/Newsroom 22 January)

The only balm for disaster in our lives is the Spirit.  I think of those patient, stunned children lying in the road in Haiti, too ill and dehydrated even to move.  I know they are traumatized, but I also know that they are not forgotten.  The Light of Christ is within them, and should they die from this horrendous event, they will be clasped in the arms of their Savior and know more love than they ever thought possible.

How can we apply this to our own, equally fragile lives?  Should we fear?  Should we be anxious?  The answer comes in the above scripture from the Lord to Oliver Cowdery.
Fear, doubt, sin, and pride .are the greatest stumbling blocks to faith.  So, as part of following the standard advice, “If ye are prepared, ye shall not fear,” we need to concentrate not only on disaster preparedness, but most importantly on spiritual preparedness. 

It is past time that we set our spiritual houses in order.  For many years, I was beset by fear and anxiety that totally crippled me, and prevented me from gaining the faith I needed to be healed from a long illness. I had repented and continued to repent from every sin I could think of, and my illness had humbled me to the dust, but I held on to my fears.  I could not give them up.   However. the more I came to understand the atonement, the more I realized that to “look to me in all things” meant that we had to develop trust.  We aren’t looking to Him in all things if we are concentrating on our checkbooks, our children’s faults, the news of the world.  Looking to him in all things means literally that.  It is a form of consecration. Consecration of our hearts, souls, and minds, so that we are conditioned to pray each day about all our fears, worries, and concerns and lay them all on the altar, summoning the faith in the atonement to know that “I can do all things through Jesus Christ which strengthened me.”  If we truly take this as our watchword, we will have the faith necessary to feel the peace of the Spirit, and will be enabled through the grace of the atonement of our Elder Brother to endure what must be endured, and to do what must be done.

I learned this lesson in a very dramatic fashion.  As soon as I finally understood the reality of grace to help me trust my Savior in all things, I put my whole life’s worth of worries and fears on the altar.   I felt them physically leave my body.  My chest was no longer constricted.  My breaths were no longer shallow.  And then, within the week, the new medication that dramatically healed me was found and administered to me by my doctor.

A habit of a lifetime of worry cannot be easily overcome, so I spend many hours in the Celestial Room, trying to be very quiet in my heart and soul so that I can identify new worries and give them to the Lord.  At the same time, I often receive instruction.  But, always I leave with the warmth of the Spirit comforting me, validating in my mind and heart that no matter how things appear to me, the Lord of the Universe is in control.  I leave my doubt and fear at the doors of the temple, and strengthened beyond my own capacity, go out into the world and do what is requisite for the mission and responsibilities the Lord has given me.

Everyone, I’m in serious trouble here.  Does anyone know of a twelve-step program for Gadgetaholics?  My husband’s obsession is searching the Internet for new and interesting gadgets, which he promptly purchases.  Since I have been laid up with my last two hip surgeries, I can understand the Roomba (robot vacuum).  However, why does he need THREE flashlights of varying sizes attached to plug-in rechargers by his bed?  He only has two hands.

And what is with this new thing that will turn off all the lights in the house one by one (it has to have a code or something) from his bed?  For Christmas, I asked him if he had any particular requests.  He responded that I should check his wish list on Amazon.  There was something called a Dremel.  Because he had been so generous to me, I ordered it, having no idea what it was.  On Christmas morning I asked him, and he said it was “something that would get into little tiny places.”  Whatever that means.

When Jack came for Christmas, David bought this ridiculous blue thing that you hold up and aim at someone.  When you activate it, it sends an “air bomb” that will ruffle the target’s hair.  I mean, I ask you!

The other night was the absolute limit.  We were sitting in bed talking (about the need for all those flashlights) when suddenly a police siren went off in our bedroom.  We were both quite startled, as you can imagine.  I looked closely at the flashlights, thinking that was the logical place for some reason.  He checked the alarms.  Nada.  Finally, the source of the racket was discovered to be his I-Phone, which was warning him of a speed trap way down in the valley next to the freeway.  We live on the bench above Provo.  I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard.  I mean, really!  It was eleven p.m. and I think it would have served him right if it had awakened him!

Does anyone have a cure?

POSTCRIPT:  In the very few hours since I have posted this, my son arrived with a black bag.  “Here’s your computer, Dad.”  As I processed this during dinner, I realized that all three of our computers were present and accounted for.  After dinner, I said in dulcet tones, “Is this a new computer?”  His brown eyes were innocent as he said, “It’s used.”  He has just bought a new gadget: a Mac Computer.  I am so excited.  I have always wanted a Mac.  I can hardly wait to use it.

All my life I’ve been a drama queen.  While this comes in handy in my profession, it is a distinct disadvantage in real life.  I ache over Tchaikovsky, Dvorak, and Rachmanifnoff.  They speak a musical language that goes straight to my soul.  To me, Anna Karenina is the greatest of all books, because Tolstoy understands the human condition better than any other author I have read.  The number of disastrous romances I had as a young adult defies counting.  Truly.  There were that many, including a death and a schizophrenic fiance.

As most of my readers know,I am bi-polar.  So were my Slavic greats.  Genetically we speak to one another in a language that is the most intelligible there is for us.  Such a would-be Slav am I that I got both my graduate and undergraduate degrees in Slavic history, politics, and economics.

My finest work as a novelist is about the fall of a great Slavic Empire, and is full of tragedy, angst, and neverending love.

Most of you probably do not know that I just went through a semi-emergency hip replacement—my second in six months.  Because of my delicate mental state, these major surgeries are a great trial.  Having overcome my twenty-five year bout with depression only three and a half years ago, you would think that I would remember what it was like.  But, no, the black beast always falls on me, taking me by complete surprise.  It is entirely chemical and only happens after I have blissfully lived in a manic state for close to two weeks.  Then the crash comes.  I can’t begin to describe how horrible it is to revisit this country where I lived for so many years. 

I know there is a God, because as I gained a true testimony of the atonement, I held on until hope came in the form of life-changing medication. 

However, once having lived in that black place, those emotions are never erased.  And that is why every taste I have is informed by Slavic melancholy.  I haven’t known much mania, but that unnatural state is one of high vigilance, seemingly clear vision, and non-stop creativity.  Before my late crash, I wrote for hours every day, starting directly after surgery, and including one complete night.  I plotted a very complex novel, peopled by extraordinary characters and happenings I never would have dreamt in my normal state.   So, it’s a tradeoff.

And that is why I’m Slavic.  I guess my final word on the subject should be thank heavens that:

1.) I live in the day of mood-stabilizers, and

2.) I married a stolid Swede.

Thank you,, Lord.

Merry Christmas to Family, Friends, and Fans!

This has been a great year for the Vandagriff family!  Highlights were our research trip to Florence (see October archives of my blog for diary and David’s pictures.  Also the reason I now call him Herc) and the long-awaited announcement that we will have a new grandchild in 2010!

However, I know most of you are interested in where Christmas finds your favorite characters.  So here’s a Christmas greeting from each of them:

Briggie and Richard are now in their seventies. (See http://www.ggvandagriff.com/books) Briggie writes that she is finally tired of globe-trotting, and has convinced Richard to go on a senior couple’s mission.  For some reason (not to be understood by the rational mind–but you know Briggie), she settled on Italy.  Unexpectedly possessed of a talent with languages, she is bullying poor Richard who has a tin ear for Italian.  They are the only missionaries in Italy who ride twin Vespas,  and Briggie loves to weave up to the beginning of the intersection when the light is red, and then drag race with all the other Vespas  when the light turns green.  They have taken over the investigator we came across in the leather market, and Briggiie has Aldo committed for baptism, which Richard will perform.

Alex and Charles (See http://www.ggvandagriff.com/books) are in the Punjab in India researching the genealogy of a Silicon Valley billionaire.  With them are their two preteens: Rose (12) and Anthony (11).  They are enjoying the adventure, and thinking of traveling to the mountains in search of a Christmas tree.  Both the children have become fluent in Hindi and are being home schooled by Charles in the Classics. He insists that they must have a firm foundation in Greek and Latin.  On their way home next Spring, they plan a trip to Greece to see the ruins, and to Italy to see more ruins, and of course, the art.

Unfortunately, Amalia’s communications have been sparse and cryptic.(See http://last-waltz.com) They arrive through a wormhole in the universe which carries them from France, 1942, where she is undercover as a Special Operations Executive spy in Lyon.  She acts as a courier, receiving and delivering messages from her British controllers to the French resistance.  Though a bit old for this work (she’s in her forties), she was driven to it in hopes that she could make contact with Rudi, an RAF pilot who was shot down over France, but is being hidden by a French family near Lille.  Christmas is tense, because Klaus Barbie, the Butcher of Lyon, is on a relentless hunt for Jews, Resistance Fighters, and SEO operatives.  Separated from her husband for the first time during the war, poor Amalia is not only frightened, but lonely.  However, with her customary courage, she is helping English fighter pilots find their way back to Britain, and is full of hope that she will find Rudi before the Germans do.

Lastly, Maren O’Neill (see http://www.arthurianomen.com) was married this year (to whom?  Can you guess?) and with her family matters settled, is now free to mother Claire as she has always wanted to.  She has settled with her little family in Wales, where she hopes to make a fresh start with her new husband.  They are renovating a charming cottage in North Wales, and are both teaching part time at the University of Wales.  Their Christmas is full of rejoicing, as Maren has just found out she is expecting another child.  A boy this time, who will no doubt be initiated into the mysteries of the Arthurian Legend as soon as he can talk!

Merry Christmas also from the Crazy Ladies of Oakwood, whom you haven’t met yet–Roxie, McKenzie, Sara, and Georgia–who are enduring a Midwestern winter by looking forward to their cruise to the Greek Isles in May.

May your New Year be filled with lots of fun and lots of good reading!

People continually ask me where I get such quirky characters for my books.  Actually, I tell them, the quirk is in my head, passed down from who knows how many generations of eccentrics.  Those who know me well learn not to question this truth.

Therefore, I am extremely gratified to see my grandson, Jack, aka Aniken Skywalker, exhibit signs of said eccentricity.  Last summer when he was 3 1/2, he said to me, his voice very firm, “Nana we need to have a talk.”  I knew I was in trouble for something.  He took me into my bedroom and pointed to my little round table full of knick knacks.  “What are these doing here???

Gulping, I said, “What are you talking about?”  Promptly, he held up a gray pebble, an inch-long piece of driftwood, and a small, razor sharp shell.

I informed him that they were things I got on a special vacation to a beach.  He replied,  “This belongs on a rock pile (the pebble), This belongs on the beach (the driftwood), and This belongs in the ocean! (the seashell).  Nana, this is very bad!  You are breaking Heavenly Father’s rules!

This at 3 1/2?  I feel full of the felicity Mr. Bennett (that wonderful character of Jane Austen’s) must have felt when entertained by the eccentricities of his friends, neighbors, and family.  De-pending on how long it takes me to get Alzheimer’s, I look forward to many years of enjoyment as Jack grows in the subtleties and nuances of his own particular brand of quirkiness.  (I swear, his parents are not runaway environmentalists!)  If only his great grandfather could have known him!  What fun they would have had!

I