compassion – SUNBEAM ACRES

Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.🍂

-F Scott Fitzgerald

Elder Robert D. Hales once said:

When you cannot do what you have always done, then you only do what matters most.

Those words sink deep for me as someone who lives with chronic pain.

There are many things I cannot do anymore—not the way I used to, not with the energy or freedom I once had. And yet, in the midst of those limitations, I’ve discovered that my life is being reshaped around what truly matters most.

🔍 Finding Clarity in Constraints

Elder Hales went on to say:

Physical restrictions can expand vision. Limited stamina can clarify priorities. Inability to do many things can direct focus to a few things of greatest importance.

That is the truth of my life. I don’t have the stamina to do everything I once could. But I do have the vision to see what is worth my energy. Pain has forced me to slow down, to let go of what doesn’t serve me, and to focus on what is most meaningful—faith, relationships, healing moments, and time in nature. 🌲

💛 “Come What May and Love It”

Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin also offered a phrase I want to cling to:

Come what may, and love it.

His mother taught him those words, and he later reminded us that

adversity, if handled correctly, can be a blessing in our lives.

I admit—I don’t always love it. There are days when pain feels relentless, and my instinct is to resist, to grieve what I’ve lost, or to dwell in shame when I make mistakes. I make a lot of those. Mistakes. I find my brain just checks out while dealing with chronic pain. 🧠

🚤 A Maritime Memoir Best Left Unsailed

Like this past weekend, for example. I may or may not have put my husband and myself in mortal danger on the lake (😬 oops). I turned off the boat engine when the battery was low—thinking I’d heard Brent say to shut it off. Turns out, he had said the opposite. 😳

This process set off so many megaddons-

We would have drifted helplessly across the lake. But Brent, my hero, jumped in and anchored us to shore 🥶 . Now he was soaked through with no dry clothes.

Meanwhile, the navy was literally training around us, however, we were too embarrassed to ask for help. What would you have done?

My dad had to haul out his sailboat ⛵️ that was already getting packed away for winter. The sight of them motoring across the harbor with no sails…well, let’s just say it was memorable.

There we were, covered in lifejackets and wrapped in blankets, being eaten alive by biting flies.

At the time, I didn’t want to “come what may and love it.” I wanted to wallow in shame for the mistake that stranded us. But shame didn’t help. It only made me feel worse.

Looking back, I see parts of it that were quite humorous.

Brent’s pants (they had to be fished out of the lake after the wind blew them from their safe perch where they would stay dry while he swam us to safety) soon had the appearance that we had been shipwrecked for months by the time rescue came.

Wet sweatpants are diabolical. Wet sweat shorts on the other hand- marginally better.

So out came the fishing knife (he did not have them on at this stage of the procedure) and off came his pride and a few inches of dripping fleece. Suggesting a shipwreck much longer than the hour or so that it actually turned into.

I couldn’t help but think in this scenario, I was the Gilligan.

On the contrary, the more loving response—for myself—would have been to let it go. To choose self compassion. To laugh. To accept my parents’ kindness.

And Brent’s! Even as he frantically thought through what he needed to do then jumped in the water. Even as he stood there shivering and dripping wet. Even as he swatted flies in nothing but my blanket, he told me not to worry. Not to feel bad.

He encouraged self compassion from the outset. To remember that we would survive the “fly apocalypse,” catch a fish 🎣 , and make it home safely. He reminded me to stay focused on what matters.

Meanwhile…

The devil whispered in my ear, “You’re not strong enough to withstand this storm.” I whispered in the devil’s ear, “I love your eggs.” 🤦🏼‍♀️

🍄 Woodland Wellness: Discovering Peace Among Trees 🌲

Elder Hales reminded us that even the senior leaders of our church aren’t spared from affliction:

Rather, they are blessed and strengthened to press forward valiantly while suffering in and with affliction.

That idea gives me hope. If they can press forward valiantly, maybe so can I. Maybe so can we. Whatever our struggle may be.

That’s where forest therapy comes in for me. When my pain feels like too much, I turn to the forest.

Dendrolatry
a deep reverence for the trees, where every branch whispers ancient wisdom and every root holds the secrets of the earth– to honour a tree is to honour the quiet, sacred connection between life and nature.

The forest is where I remember how to breathe, how to soften, how to let go of shame and find a thread of joy. The forest teaches me that even in adversity, there can be beauty. Even when I’m hurting, there can be laughter, resilience, and connection.

My adversity is chronic pain. It is woven into every corner of my life. It shapes my days and my choices, and so it will show up in my writing and conversations, too. It is part of who I am.

Some people wish I’d talk about it less, but this is my reality. And it’s also where I’ve learned to discover meaning, humor, and even joy.

The woods invite me to notice beauty even when pain is loud. The trees 👆🏼 don’t erase adversity, but they remind me that I am still alive, still loved, and still capable of joy. 🍃

💖 Embracing Love, Bidding Farewell to Shame

So next time I find myself swarmed by biting flies (literally or figuratively in the form of invasive thoughts), or when I am caught in the grip of pain, I hope I can remember Elder Wirthlin’s (and his mother’s) invitation:

Come what may, and love it.

Not because it’s easy. But because it’s the better way forward. 😊

September was a thirty-
days long goodbye to
summer, to the season that 
left everybody both happy 
and weary of the warm, 
humid weather and the 
exhausting but 
thrilling adventures

-Lea Malot

As we bid farewell to shame we also bid farewell to summer. The following is an unorganized smattering of my summer adventures. Enjoy perusing (or skip it altogether). I encourage you to do the same. Enjoy your memories. Feel free to share stories or pictures in the comments!

Enjoy your life and the beauty that nature provides. If you’d like to schedule a forest therapy walk before the snow flies, let me know in the comments, or email me @ pam.munkholm@gmail.com I’d love to show you how healing it really is.

As a young girl and, honestly, until recently I always pictured my progress in the world according to my values and my identity that I have built over my life. I would either be going up on a ladder, going down, or falling onto my face depending on whether I lived up to those values and expectations or not. Add to that, high anxiety and low self esteem. This has resulted in years of comparing myself to others. I worried about anyone getting higher on any ladder. Sometimes I felt like I was looking around to make sure nobody was going to knock my ladder over.

This is not how I picture this life anymore. I still want to be facing the right direction and chasing my goals. But it’s not always about progress in the area where you would like to put your focus.

For example, I was a runner. A long distance runner in high school. And a treadmill runner in my older years. I would do anything to be able to run like that again. But my body is not able to do that in the way I used to at the moment. This does not mean I am low on the ladder of physical fitness for me. For a person with chronic pain, any physical movement in the day that ends on a positive note is a good thing. I can’t control how high I can climb on that proverbial ladder.

In other news, I stink at throwing anything. I turn back the progress that women the world over have made when I throw anything. It is pathetic. Wind up, throw with all my might and it would sail beautifully through the air all few feet. I practiced for hours one summer trying to get just the right angle and release. It was so embarrassing every. single. time. It would actually stop the game while everyone felt bad for me. Bless me for trying. That does not mean I am low on the ladder of throwing. And that I shame women everywhere with my less than valiant effort.

I play the piano well. That doesn’t mean I am towering over others on their low rung of I-wish-I-had-listened-to-my-mom-and-stayed-in-piano-lessons. I do not look down at them from my throne and laugh at their efforts. And yet when I am on the “low rung” that is what I am feeling from the masses.

I have changed my thoughts on this.

Now, I see a grid of light. At each crossroads there is a woman doing her very best. Sometimes it is less-than and her light is dim. Sometimes in her great efforts she shines brightly. On this grid are so many women with so many varied talents. Each offers bright light in some areas. And needs the light of others in her areas that are dimly lit. I can share the light I have to offer. I can play the piano at a funeral for someone I barely knew. I have supported my boys in their musical talent with the light I can offer in that area. I needed the support of others when it came to teaching my boys to throw. Thankfully, none of them got my arm. I have not been able to pass on my love of running to them as they have grown up, for the most part, through years that I have not been able to run. But they know my desire and they see my efforts. And when that wasn’t enough they could look to other examples of physical fitness.

I want to offer the light I have in any area I can. I want others to know they can borrow my light when theirs is dim. I want to trust in and allow others to lend their light in the areas where I am struggling. Some areas are due to circumstance. Some are due to our own choice. Some to the choices of others.

There is no comparison in this grid. Comparison is never useful. We either feel bad about ourselves, less than or better, more than. Neither is a good place to be. Comparison here, in this space of light, becomes compassion. Where can I lend my light? Where do I need the light of others?

I choose to use this perspective with women because I think we need each other. We need to recognize that, as a shirt I read says, We Are All Babes. We each have light to offer and need to borrow the light others can give.

Speaking of light, I LOVE THE SUN. I know that getting my feet on the ground and in the dirt and sand is healing. My one piece of advice this week is to get outside as much as possible. Ditch the shoes and get your feet on the grass (if you can find a dry spot). The earth has healing properties. If you watch certain kids and all dogs, you will see their love of the earth. Dogs will wriggle into the ground and dig on instinct. Kids also on instinct collect rocks and will lay on the sand or grass given the chance. I enjoyed a book I listened to on the subject titled, Earthing written by Clint Ober. It seemed wonky to me at first but as in so many other things, necessity is the mother of trying something weird.

Let me know what you think of this idea. And if you want to give this whole forest bathing thing a try, send me an email from my contact page. I hope to see you in the forest my sweet friends.

Tag: compassion

The Healing Power of Nature and Acceptance