The musical number for my ward’s Sacrament Meeting this week was performed by an eleven-year-old girl and her older brother, recently returned from his mission. They sang “Be Still My Soul”, and sung with such purity and sweetness that it took our collective breath away. The sister began, her tone sweet and calm, her pitch flawless. Her brother added a rich baritone that neither overpowered nor faltered. As they sang the Spirit washed over us all with a holy influence – peaceful, pure.
After the meeting I wanted to ask the girl if she took voice lessons, and if not to encourage her to get them if her parents could afford it. Then I wondered how this might sound to an eleven-year-old. Would she think I was suggesting lessons because her voice was not very good, the way we suggest people get lessons to learn a language they can’t speak or to prepare for a test they don’t expect to do well on? Or would she have the maturity and experience to take such a suggestion as a compliment, a statement of my confidence in her talent and potential?
Which got me wondering: Does God run the same risk when He undertakes our spiritual training – the risk that we will see His tutoring hand in our lives as a sign that He thinks we are deficient, not a sign of His confidence in our spiritual talent and potential? When He invites me to the hard lessons of disease or disaster, failure or loss, I too often assume (as I worried my young musician friend would) that His offer of “lessons” means that I am deficient, unprepared, and not expected to do well – when perhaps the “music” I’ve been handed is simply to help me develop my truest voice, even if the score is unfamiliar or out of my current range.
Of course, an eleven-year-old is unlikely to reach her mature musical potential without practice, guidance, and difficult songs to master. Lessons will benefit her in that pursuit, as they will benefit me in my quest for spiritual maturity. God has paid the full price to assure lessons for everyone, honed to develop our spiritual talents and gifts and not just to correct the deficiencies we more readily see. I suppose He delights to see what music we will make, and even to sing with us, adding His rich baritone – neither faltering nor overpowering – to our song.
Years ago I had planned to drive to Rexburg, Idaho, for the inauguration of Joe J. Christensen, a dear friend, as president of Ricks College. Some friends of mine, who were also planning to attend, invited me to fly up with them in a friend’s small plane rather than make the drive by myself.
Even though I’m afraid of small planes, I agreed to go with them because of all the time it would save.
So off we went. It was a four-seater. Dave and the pilot were up front, and Joy and I right behind them. Talking was a challenge because the propeller was so noisy. Mostly I just looked out at the scenery and kept track of where we were.
Some time into the flight, I saw Rexburg and the Ricks College campus. I’d been there enough to recognize it.
The pilot was still shout-talking with Dave, and there was no kind of "initial descent" that I could detect. "Hey!" I hollered. Not loud enough. No response.
"Hey, there’s Rexburg! There’s Ricks!" Joy heard me and shouted at Dave and the pilot.
They didn’t think it could be Rexburg. The pilot shouted back something about his calculations and that we had several more miles to go.
I shouted back, "but there’s Ricks. There’s the stadium right down there!"
The pilot shouted "Are you sure??" Yes, I was sure. I even pointed out the little airport back behind us. I had noticed it as we flew over.
He believed me. He circled, found the air strip, and landed.
I’ve thought a lot about that experience, and about flight plans and staying on course and all. It’s a pretty powerful analogy. A pilot has to submit a flight plan before he or she takes off. Without a plan, how would there be any chance of reaching a destination? Without navigational instruments and communication helps, how would a pilot know for sure if he (or she) were on course? Especially if it were cloudy, or if the plane were over water.
Amelia Earhart made plans to fly completely around the globe in 1937. She had flown across the continent, so she decided to go even further. She left Miami on 01 June 1937. She went across South America, Africa, and Asia. She and her navigator reached New Guinea, and then took off for Howland Island, somewhere out in the Pacific.
On that day, there was rain and fog, and the Coast Guard picked up a frantic message from Ameila: "Cannot hear you ... please take a bearing on us and answer...." There was trouble with the radio. Her final transmission was "Circling ... cannot see island ... Gas is running low .... running north and south...." And then silence. (See David R. Collins, "First Lady of the Sky," The Friend, June 1975, 37)
Somehow the little plane had gotten off course, and was lost along with its two passengers.
Life is like that. There’s a plan — the Great Plan of Happiness — but there is also a lot of opposition (storms, turbulence, darkness, strong head winds and other things) trying to take us off course. We need to make course corrections every bit as much as a pilot in a plane.
Elder L. Tom Perry has flown a lot in his life, and he said he’s been fascinated by looking in the cockpit at all the instruments and controls. He tells of a particular conversation with a pilot:
"I entered into a discussion with one pilot regarding what could happen if he deviated from his flight plan. I proposed deviating just one degree from the charted course. His reply astonished me. He said that for every one-degree variance from the plan, you would miss your charted destination by one mile for every 60 miles you were flying.... On a flight from Salt Lake to Chicago, you would miss the airport and land in Lake Michigan. Going from Salt Lake to New York, you would miss Kennedy Airport and land in the Hudson River. Going to London, you wouldn’t even make England — you would land somewhere in France....
"The pilot explained to me that, obviously, the faster the error is discovered, the easier it is to return to the flight plan.... My visit with the pilot [caused] me to think of how a flight plan parallels the direction we chart for our life’s experience." (L. Tom Perry, "Learning to Serve," Ensign, Aug. 1996, 10)
I think about how much more effective the Holy Ghost is in our lives than any kind of gauges or navigational instruments, or even an air traffic controller. There is really no comparison ... but there is a very good analogy.
Our lives can be aimless without a plan. I guess it’s kind of like what Yogi Berra reportedly said: "You got to be careful if you don’t know where you’re going, because you might not get there." Uh, yes....
Am I on course? Am I headed where I really want to go? Do you find it’s important to think about it — to analyze how your journey is coming?
I think about these things a lot, and I aim to do all I can to have a "happy landing" in the right place.
This week my kindergartner, Bo, taught me that “Brudder Nature” controls the weather.
As Bo’s story goes, recently fall came and the weather changed, so a teacher at school mentioned to Bo that Mother Nature was doing something to bring in the clouds and make it cooler. He has been taught to respect the teacher and pay attention to what is taught. Rather than blow her off or argue with her, he accepted what he was taught and began to spread the knowledge.
Oh, to get rid of skepticism and live like a five-year-old, believing sincerely that the weather can be changed at the drop of a hat . . . by someone called “Brudder Nature”!
Think of how radically our world would change if we could look to trusted sources and simply take them at their word. As we seek the spiritual gift of discernment and develop an ability to trust the confirming and empowering influence of the Holy Ghost, we will know Whom to trust. Could there be a greater comfort in this life than the ability to completely lean on something entirely true?
General conference recently gave each of us that chance. I was reminded by Elder Holland that we can and should take the Book of Mormon at its word.
I was recently stretched to take the Book of Mormon at face value. I thought I had done so all along, but this time I went in totally alert and sensitive anew to things I had read hundreds of times. I allowed myself to imagine as I began to read in Third Nephi:
11:8-16 ". . . they saw a Man descending out of heaven . . . the multitude went forth, and thrust their hands into his side, and did feel the prints of the nails in his hands and in his feet . . . going forth one by one until they had all gone forth . . ."
Chapter 17 . . . I see that your faith is sufficient that I should heal you . . . and He did heal every one as they were brought forth unto Him . . . he wept . . . he wept again . . . they saw angels descending out of heaven as it were in the midst of fire; and they came down and encircled those little ones about . . .
As I considered a line of 2,500 people, as the text reports, going forth one by one, I thought of how long it might have taken to get through the whole group. If the people took one minute each, this line would have taken just over 41 hours . . . in silence.
I also spent a considerable amount of time imagining the swarm of angels encircling those children—my children.
The process of imagining these moments is active and takes energy. Believing that they really happened is life altering. To truly believe that He can heal and that the ministering of angels is a real thing makes life exciting. It gives us something upon which to lean and for which to hope.
I invite you to try it. Take the time to read a passage with new eyes: five-year-old eyes. Having a believing heart will give us new life as we search the scriptures.
Mark Mabry is the photographer and visionary behind the project Reflections of Christ, which was released in fall of 2008. Work from his second project, Another Testament, which takes a glimpse of Christ's visit to the Americas, is now available at DeseretBook.com.
Do you know someone who is always happy, never sad, always looking on the bright side of things, never down on life?
I have only ever met one or two people who claim to be that happy all the time. Actually, now that I think about it, I can only name one person. And technically, I don’t “know” her. I can’t remember her name, but I heard her speak at Women’s Conference several years ago and her topic was being happy. She said she was the type of person that was just always happy. Simple as that – she was just a happy, happy person. That stuck with me.
I admit it. I’m not like that. Wish I was…
My emotions are, how shall I say it, a little less “structured.” I remember a period of a couple weeks last year when I had the blues. There were three things that helped to restore a little sunshine to my spirits.
The first was prayer. I kept right on praying – even when I didn’t necessarily feel like it . I prayed that Heavenly Father would lift my spirits. I pleaded with Him to get me through the blues. And…I felt Him near me. I felt His support and the whisperings of the Holy Ghost getting me through.
Second was gratitude. One Sunday during this “blues” period, we talked about gratitude in Sacrament Meeting and then again in Sunday school. Elder Cook, who is in our ward, said “If we want to overcome sorrow and chase away the blues we need to count our blessings. We need to not just let them run through our minds, but run through our hearts.”
Now that was a tender mercy – hearing those wonderful words of advice while attending Sunday school. Elder Cook didn’t know how I was feeling, but Heavenly Father did and He knew how to communicate something to me through someone else.
Later that Sunday night, at a Young Women’s program, the Bishop talked about the one thing we all search for in life, above anything else. Guess what it was?
Happiness.
As the Bishop spoke, another tender mercy unfolded. He said the key to being happy is to have the Spirit with us. Taking the Sacrament is key to having the Spirit with us always. I realized that because of a family vacation and sickness I had missed the last three Sundays in a row. It had been three weeks since I had taken the Sacrament. That had definitely affected my happiness. What a blessing to have the gospel in our lives and to see ourselves, our lives, even our emotions through it’s light. The gospel provides answers and solutions.
Before I got married, no one ever sat me down and had "the talk." You know, the talk about...laundry. Remarkably, even without previous counsel, I've developed some pretty sweet laundry skills and learned a great deal over the years. Perhaps my greatest realization is how much I've come to respect bleach.
With seven active children, bleach has become my trusted companion – often saving a seemingly hopeless article of clothing. It has disinfected things I would only touch with rubber gloves and a gas mask. But my careless use of this powerful aid has also ruined many more things than I'd care to admit.
Once, in haste, some drops of bleach landed on my favorite laundry room rug. I noticed these drops right away and tried to rinse them out quickly, but the power of that bleach proved to be immediate and irreversible. The next day, I carefully colored the spots in with a mustard colored marker. (I challenge you to find one of those!) It helped, but I'm still reminded of that mistake every time I do my wash. Those bleach spots have taught me a priceless lesson.
You see, bleach is a lot like words.The words we choose can lift and mend, restore and renew. They can also permanently damage and deface. Words are quick and powerful. Once uttered, they cannot be retracted. Whether we use them with care and respect, or thoughtlessness and haste, words can (and do) change lives forever.
I'll never forget the time I overheard some friends joking about some of my weaknesses to one another in a mean-spirited way. When they realized I had heard them, they quickly came and asked to be forgiven. I did forgive, but the experience has been difficult to forget. Like bleach, the cruel stain was immediate and irreversible. Their repentance helped to fill in the painful spot (like my rare and wonderful mustard-colored marker), but the memory of those harsh words has been hard to completely erase.
The Apostle Paul delivered these wise words to the ancient Ephesians, "Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers....Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice. And be ye kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you." (Ephesians 4:29-32)
It's so easy to speak before we think. But most of us don't use intentionally hurtful words, we just get lazy and careless. We let our words fly like little drops of bleach here and there without measuring the effect they may have upon the hearer. The problem is, little children (and big adults) believe what we say to them. “Something's wrong with you," or "You just don't get it," or "If you could just see yourself."
I once called my daughter a "turtle" because she often moves like cold tar. One month later, while in a piano lesson, her teacher asked her to play more quickly. She replied, "I can't. I'm a turtle." My careless words had stained her self-perception. If only I could take those damaging words back...
Each day we have the opportunity to mend hearts and empower lives with our words. When we use them to build and inspire – people grow. We we degrade and criticize – people shrink. Our simple words of encouragement and praise can be life-changing.
In my early teenage years, I experienced real fear. I was on vacation with my family, and one of our day-time activities was to go repelling off a cliff. I watched the others repel down the steep rocky mountain side, and they all said it was so much fun. However, when it was my turn, I became paralyzed with fear. I looked out at the rocks below me, and couldn’t take the backwards step off the cliff. When I, with much encouragement, finally took that literal leap of faith, I began to cry. It wasn’t fun at all. In fact, I thought I was going to die.
I was belayed to the guide at the top, and as I dangled in mid-air, I clung to the rope, and cried up to him, “Pull me up! I can’t do this! Pull me up!” Little by little, I was talked down that mountain side while I wept, but I made it to the solid earth below, and did not die.
Can you identify times in your life when you have been petrified with fear or worry? You might be experiencing such a time now. Life presents each of us with times when we can be overcome with fear for ourselves or for those we love.
In my case, repelling seems like a piece of cake compared to what I’ve had to go through since then. When I was diagnosed with cancer in 2003, I was terrified that I would not survive, and when I did, I didn’t want to. The cancer had left me blind and I worried about how I would function. How COULD I do it? Would the cancer return? I was consumed with fear- fear for myself and for my little family. How would I be able to care for my sons? Would I ever again be strong enough or able to be a good wife to my sweet husband? Would I ever be happy again? It’s impossible to describe the fear that continually gripped my heart and mind for nearly a year.
My personal fears may not seem like much to others, but they were overwhelming to me. Over time, with the help of Heavenly Father, my fear gradually faded and was replaced with feelings of confidence and hope. I’d like to say that I have never struggled with fear again, but that is not the case. There is always the fear in the back of my mind that I’ll have to again battle cancer, or other serious health problems.
There seems to be a never ending supply of things for each of us to fear or worry about; however, if WE remain in fear, then WE are not fully living with faith. The scriptures contain so many promises from the Lord which have helped me be more faith-filled.
Let’s consider these verses from Isaiah. The Lord is speaking to you and to me:
“Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.
“For I the LORD thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee“(Isa. 41: 10, 13).
God does not break his promises– not ever. He has promised you and me that he will help us and that we don’t need to fear. That seems to sound great on paper, but how do we really do it? We communicate constantly with our Father, and stay close to him and to his Spirit. When we do this, we can place our fears and worries at his feet because we know and trust him. His strength will come. It will.
As we continually turn our fears to the Lord, we will be able to feel as Enos did about his worries. Enos had so much faith and trust in the Lord, that when he made a covenant with him, he was able to say, “And I, Enos, knew it would be according to the covenant which he had made; wherefore my soul did rest” (Enos 1:17).
Isn’t that amazing? He was able to “rest”. His soul no longer needed to worry because it was in the Lord’s hands, and Enos trusted the Lord and his covenant.
It can be the same for us. We can find rest in the covenants we have made with the Lord. We can trust that he will help us. Of course, we will be faced with fears, but we do not have to remain afraid.
Looking back on my repelling experience, I realize, that although I was terrified and utterly sure of death, I was actually safe and held secure by the guide above me. If I would have placed more trust in him and listened to his directions, I would have actually enjoyed the experience. I would have realized that I had the capability to do such a difficult task.
And so it is with our lives. If we stay connected to the Lord, and listen to his instructions and promptings, we will know and feel that we truly are in his hands. With his promised help, we have the capacity to do difficult things.
“‘A remarkable child,’ said one of the sailors as Pippi disappeared in the distance. He was right. Pippi was indeed a remarkable child. The most remarkable thing about her was that she was so strong.” —Astrid Lindgren, Pippi Longstocking
As a young girl, I loved the story of Pippi Longstocking. For me, there was something so intriguing and inspiring about Pippi’s love of adventure, her unwavering self-confidence, her quirky approach to life, and, of course, her gravity-defying pigtails. The thing I loved most about her, though, was how strong she was. After all, who wasn’t impressed with her Herculean strength and all of the zany ways she protected her home, friends, pet animals, and treasure? She was the kind of girl you wanted on your side!
After participating in my first Time Out for Women at Logan, Utah, in September, I unexpectedly found myself reflecting upon this favorite childhood heroine again. No, I hadn’t met a disproportionate number of redheads or sisters with pigtails in Logan—although that would have been fun. I had simply encountered a unique concentration of women with incredible strength. They were remarkably strong, in fact. It was nothing short of moving to witness the power that is generated by 2,000 women laughing and applauding together, the power of women crying and feeling the Spirit together, and the distinct energy that radiates from valiant women coming together for good purposes.
During the breaks, I was both touched and humbled by the personal stories women shared with me. In those one-on-one moments, I was struck by how seemingly ordinary women were facing gut-wrenching difficulties with extraordinary faith—making them anything but ordinary. Naturally, it was troubling to learn of how many women in our faith community are grappling with the destructive impact of pornography in their lives, but I was encouraged by the number and nature of the women who are striving to tackle this issue with Heavenly Father’s help.
As sweet as it was to be reminded of a childhood heroine, it was even sweeter to be reminded of how strong daughters of God are when they know they are daughters of God. These are definitely the kind of women I want on my side.
I have always loved general conference and have appreciated the blessing it is to hear the testimonies and teachings of the Lord’s anointed servants. My parents told me that when I was a toddler I would watch intently the broadcast of general conference on our old black and white television. When President David O. McKay would appear on the screen they said that I would kiss the television and say, “I love him.” Though I may not kiss the television screen anymore, I still love the prophets and apostles and cherish listening to their counsel. General conference is to me like a lush oasis is to a desert traveler—a refreshing respite amidst a difficult journey, a time of renewal of strength, a renewal of direction and determination.
“Conference time is a season of spiritual revival,” taught President Howard W. Hunter, “when knowledge and testimony are increased and solidified that God lives and blesses those who are faithful. . . . a time when souls are stirred and resolutions are made to be better husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, more obedient sons and daughters, better friends and neighbors.” (Conference Report, October 1981)
It seems that general conference always seems to come right when my spiritual and emotional “batteries” are running the lowest. Have you felt that way too? Do you also find that your spiritual “batteries” are recharged by the messages delivered and the spirit that attends the sessions? I do. That is why I love general conference so much. There have been many, many times when I felt that the speaker was talking only to me—giving personal counsel and comfort that I desperately needed at that moment. Perhaps you have had that experience as well. Sometimes it is as if the Savior himself is teaching a class of one—me. In fact, He is—“whether by mine own voice or by the voice of my servants, it is the same.”
This was particularly true when I was serving as a mission president. The spiritual oasis afforded by conference at that difficult and demanding time of my life was probably more appreciated and the messages more applied than at any other time. Feeling so overwhelmed by the heavy responsibilities of the calling and the pressure that I put on myself with my perfectionist tendencies and unrealistic expectations, I feared that I would be “sent over the edge” by talks that would “highlight” my spiritual inadequacy, remind me of my sins, call me to repentance, and then emphatically add to my growing list of “oughta dos.” While I was certainly reminded of things that need more of my spiritual focus, the spirit of general conference was one of building up not beating down. Listening to the Lord’s servants, like learning at the feet of the Savior, is an experience in love, lifting, hope and healing. More than at any other time in my life, the messages of general conference inspired and instructed me. I am quite sure that it was not because the talks were just better during those three years. I am convinced that because of my personal needs—the challenges I faced, the problems I encountered, and the responsibilities on my shoulders—general conference became a veritable “fountain of living waters” to which I could go for refreshment again and again and again.
Each of us has those moments –whatever your circumstances and challenges—when our spiritual and emotional batteries are run down and we feel that we are “running on empty.” Our spirits and psyche take daily battering with all the demands of raising our families, serving in the Church, and trying to be a better disciple of Christ, not to mention that constant tug of the “natural man” and the “fiery darts of the adversary.” Sometimes we feel like we are not even “keeping our heads above water.” It is easy to feel run down—like a sponge that has been wrung dry. (When our children were young, my wife, Wendy called that being “mommied to death.”) In order to do and be all that is expected of us, we have to fill that sponge up again and again. General conference is a significant way whereby we can do that.
I like to teach my students that there are things we can do before, during, and after general conference. Before, we can pray not only for those who will speak to us, but also for ourselves—that our hearts and minds will be softened and prepared for what we are going to hear. During, we can listen intently—not just to the speakers, but also to the Spirit—taking notes not just on what is said, but more important, what the Spirit teaches and prods us to do. After, let the messages of conference “stand next to your standard works and be referred to frequently” (The Teachings Ezra Taft Benson, 333) and be “the guide to [your] walk and talk during the next six months” (The Teachings of Harold B. Lee, 469) General conference has been and continues to be a blessing in my life. May this conference bless your lives as well. May your well of spiritual strength be filled to overflowing this weekend by the living waters provided by prophets and apostles. I can’t wait!
I’ve read the verse a million times. “He shall turn the hearts of the children to their fathers.” OK, maybe I’ve read it a million and one times.
Over the past few months, I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom. My mom is 88 years old and her whole life she has had the most amazing memory. She would look at a picture and say, “Oh yes, I got that polka-dotted dress at J.L. Hudsons in 1934 for $7.85 and I wore it to three parties.” I mean it was CRAZY what she could remember.
This year she cannot. The memory is gone. The short-term memory left last year and this year the long-term memory is fading away quickly. She has wanted to write her life history for the last several years but just seemed unable to do it.
I had decided I didn’t care. My mom was a homemaker her whole life and if she didn’t really want to write her history, that was OK. I was wrong. I admit that now.
This past week I’ve been recuperating from surgery and I thought if I had to sit around, that I may as well just type up a quick history for my mom. I knew that it would make her immensely happy. And I just felt like this window of opportunity was closing quickly.
And so I began. And I wrote. And I began to tell my mother’s story.
My mother’s life is a story of the decades. She was born in Alabama and lived there in the 1920’s during the bootleg era when her dog was killed to keep him quiet. She grew up during the Depression in extreme poverty and moved 43 times between Detroit, Michigan and the South by the time she had graduated from high school just to survive. She was homemaker during the 50’s—those high-pressure “Pearls and Heels, Ladies” days and had her five children. She struggled with two children who got swept away in the rebellion of the 60’s. She went back to college and graduated in the early 70’s as she finished raising her children.In the 80’s she enjoyed prosperous times and camped and traveled all over the world with my dad. They also served 3 missions. In the 90’s her life slowed to a quiet retirement pace. And in the new millennium, she lost her husband and moved to a retirement center to enjoy looking at her photos of her 5 children, 17 grandchildren, and 18 great-grandchildren.
I was so wrong. As I’ve written my mother’s story, the agonizing details of the hardships she endured have burned deep into my heart. Her unwavering faithfulness has given strength and courage to my own. Her constant commitment to being the best wife and mother she knew how has have given dignity to her life and the lives of her posterity.
My mother has been true and faithful her whole life. And I have found that in this week of writing and reading her story, my heart has turned to her. It has turned to her in love, in forgiveness, in deep respect.
I’ve known my mother my whole life. But it is only now that my heart has truly been turned to her and to all those who preceded her. I understand now why this verse is discussed in all four of the standard works.
That heart turning to our fathers and their hearts turning to us is about love. It’s about love and forgiveness and understanding and respect. In short, it is everything that we are as a family. It is everything that we are as brothers and sisters in our Heavenly Father’s family. It is the heart that is at the center of His eternal family and our own.
In what can only be described as a supreme stroke of irony, my husband signed us up in June for a gym membership. My book, I Hate It When Exercise Is the Answer, had gone to press the previous week. It didn’t seem possible that now, of all moments, I was about to join the throngs of treadmill walkers, exercise bikers, and lap swimmers. Hot-tub sitters, now, that was a group I could align myself with willingly. But I was skeptical about the rest.
But I really had been kind of desperate to feel less fatigued, and you know, all those women’s magazines tout exercise as the answer for that. So I decided to at least try to give it a fair shot. I climbed up onto the machine. I pushed a few buttons. And I trod.
I think I got in 20 minutes on the treadmill the first day before staggering out, my legs rubbery, my face crimson, my heart pounding wildly. (One thing about being out of shape—I can get up to my “target heart zone” just by going up the flight of stairs to where the cardio equipment sits at our gym. Our gym. I still can’t say that without cracking up.) Gradually I got up to 30 minutes, and then, miraculously, one day my daughter pointed out that I could use my little airline headphones in the machines they had attached to the treadmills, so I could watch the overhead TV of my choice instead of always having to go for the closed-captioned one. And that day they were showing Hitch, and I got so engrossed in the movie that I went 45 minutes without even quite realizing it.
I still don’t love exercising. I don’t know if I ever will. But I’m remembering something a very smart friend of mine said once when we were both young adults and one of the guys in our group was asking us if we “loved cleaning.” I couldn’t lie, and said so: “No, I really don’t.” My friend thought for a minute and finally said, “I love having a clean house.” I may not love exercising, but I love being able to “walk and not faint.” Like most things in mortality that have any lasting value, it’s hard, but it’s worth the price.
“Why do we believe in Christ?” I asked a young teenager in the family I was home teaching.
He looked at me as though I were from a different planet and then blurted, “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Everyone in your world,” I responded. “But there are billions of people on earth who have never even heard of Christ, so that can’t be the only reason. Why else do we believe?”
The young man searched his mind and finally responded, “It’s in the Bible.”
“True,” I agreed. “But is that the only reason we believe in Him?”
By now the young man looked a little uncomfortable. He exclaimed, “It’s history. BC, AD—the whole calendar revolves around Christ.”
“The western calendar does, but is that why we believe?” The young man finally shrugged and gave up. He had provided all the reasons he could, which are the same reasons many Christians give for their belief in the Savior. They believe because their ancestors were Christian or because Jesus is in the Bible and is a part of history. As fundamental as such reasons are, there has to be more.
Many years ago, a movie was made that upset Christians because it portrayed Jesus in a very human and sexual way. People picketed theaters, and the movie was discussed extensively on talk shows. I happened to be listening to one such show when a commentator was interviewing the director of the controversial film. I don’t recall the exact words, but the conversation went something like this:
The commentator said, “I think the reason so many people are upset about your film is because it doesn’t follow what is said in the Bible about Christ’s life.”
“So?” the director responded, “So what? The Bible? That thing has been through so many translations, and almost every time it was translated it was done with political money for political purposes. Who’s to say there is anything reliable left in the Bible? And even if there is, the Bible was not written by Christ. It doesn’t say The Bible by Jesus Christ. It was written by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John — men who interpreted Christ’s life. Well, if they have the right to interpret Christ’s life, who’s to say that I don’t have the same right? And who’s to say that my interpretation is not better and more accurate than theirs? Who’s to say?”
As the commentator sat there with her mouth hanging open, my friend who was viewing the interview with me leaned over and said, “We are. We are to say.” As Latter-day Saints we are the only Christians on this globe whose testimonies of Christ do not rest on the Bible alone.
We believe in Christ because Joseph Smith saw Christ face to face. We believe because we have the Book of Mormon that stands with the Bible as another testament of the Savior. We believe because of living apostles and prophets and the Spirit which touches our spirits and assures us that we believe in the truth.
It’s not every year that you find a whole handful of really talented, fun and “real” presenters to join the team, but this year we did. Our TOFW family continues to grow and we have just loved each new addition. Emily Freeman is definitely no exception to that.
If you haven’t already had a chance to meet her, when you do, you will quickly come to see why she has become one of our favorite people to be around. She has that gift of becoming a really good friend in a really short amount of time.
We have also found that we love her because her favorite breakfast is ice cream with raspberries and chocolate chips (yes, we said BREAKFAST). She also knows how to make a killer French hot cocoa. And then last but not least, she named her bunny Hershey. (Does anyone else see a pattern in the reasons we love her? We’ll give you a hint… it starts with “choc” and ends with “olate”.)
There are so many reasons we love having Emily as a part of our family that we thought it might be fun to let you have a little “behind the scenes” to this amazing woman’s life.
Be ready to laugh.
We can’t wait for her new book!
And if you are now hooked on Emily like we are, read her last BLOG entry or go take a look at a clip from her TOFW presentation on DBtv.com.
We hope you’ll take a minute and welcome Emily to TOFW!
Wahoo! It's such a blessing to have this great woman as my friend. She does so much for so many, and does it so well. Thanks for giving of yourself, Em. You are doing a great job!
Love,
Kris
When I was younger, I used to have horrific nightmares that I had gone on a road trip and I had accidentally left my book bag home, thus relegating myself to a fate worse than death—nothing to do. As an adult, I still get nervous when I encounter a moment that is not overly filled with something to accomplish or experience. My husband and children have grown accustomed to our super busy weekdays and our super-activity Saturdays.
We have been sent to this earth to multiply and replenish, to beautify, to learn, to serve, to accomplish much. We know that “where much is given, much is required” (D&C 82:3) and we need to make good use of the time we have on this earth. But we are also commanded to “Be still, and know that I (The Lord) am God (D&C 101:16). I know that the Lord is God, but I do have a difficult time being still. Not only do I have four young children who keep me far from stillness, but every once in a while when I do encounter a free moment wherein I might “be still and know”, it is a real temptation to banish the stillness by calling someone on the phone, answering an email, checking Facebook, turning on the TV, or flipping on the radio. It is my goal to more often embrace the still moments and turn off the worldly noise as I make the meals, do the dishes, fold the clothes and drive the car so that I can be still and know.
I feel very blessed that my life has one additional activity that enables me to be busy yet still, and that is playing a musical instrument. While my body and mind are engaged in practicing or performing, my Spirit is still and open to the promptings of the Holy Ghost. It is while I am playing the violin that I feel most in tune with the Spirit and receive most of my personal revelation. In addition to prayer and scripture study, I would encourage everyone to find an enjoyable activity, whether it be gardening, sewing, walking, writing, painting, dancing, meditating or anything else wherein your soul can be still and your Spirit can know God. For “this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.” (John 17:3)
LOVE this. I have recently found that running without my Ipod is a GREAT escape for me that gives me time to "be still" (well...at least mentally). And then when my car CD player broke, I realized that time in the car alone is CHERISHED time to "be still." Try it sometime...you might be surprised.
wendy said...
August 27, 2009
Be Still When I was young, I used to like to ask the missionaries what their favorite scripture was--when a Sister missionary quoted this scripture I was surprised at the time, but as I've gotten older and life gets so busy I realize that finding time to "be still" can be quite a challenge. It is in these "still" moments we can know that our Heavenly Father is there and loves us.
What do you and I do when our health is taken? Or our source of financial income evaporates? Or our friend turns on us? Or our beloved suddenly dies? How do we handle the trying afflictions that come to us?
Joseph Smith said that God will feel after us, and He will take hold of us and wrench our very heartstrings. Now, our Father is not unkind. But, He has said that He wants to refine us as silver. The harsh reality is: refining silver takes heat—lots of heat. And so it is with mortality. Life comes with difficulty. Adversity is part of His perfecting program. Job knew about it more than most.
I have a brother who’s known quite a bit about it as well. He contracted a disease when he was ten and had to make some few adjustments to his lifestyle, as did our family. But other than that, he was able to do what most young men do. That went on for about a dozen years, and then things started to change quite drastically. Soon he lost his eyesight, and then his kidneys. The whole ordeal was very traumatic for his young bride, and she reluctantly decided it best if they parted ways. He moved back home with Mom and Dad and tried to go forward. The bodily and emotional pain was intense. His life seemed to have fallen apart.
Living in a very distant city now, he could only realistically see his little daughter about six or seven weeks out of the year. It was hard for him to consistently work a job, so money was scarce. Yet through it all, he kept a positive attitude. No blaming. No complaining. He grew extremely close to his Savior and his Father in heaven. He was able to have a kidney transplant, which gave him a great boost and some more years on earth. But the disease worked its wretched course upon him and we watched his body deteriorate slowly. He had to have one leg amputated as well as some toes on the other foot. His nervous system was pushed to the limit. The pain was constant. He began having seizures here and there. Still, ever positive. “How are you today?” we would ask. “Doin’ great,” was his familiar reply—always changing the subject, not wanting to dwell on it.
Sometimes our sicknesses and struggles are present to teach us things. Other times they are present to teach things to those around us. Bryan certainly was purified as silver. What about the rest of us...those who knew him and associated with him? We witnessed his heroic attitude...his remarkable faith in a Savior whom he certainly understood so much more because of it all.
I remember the morning he died. My mother called me and gave me the news. I was overcome with sadness for about six seconds…and then I realized my brother was free. He could see again. He could walk again. He could fly!
What have I learned from him?—Isn’t that what we’re suppose to do while we’re here . . . learn from each other? I’ve learned that life is a trail of tears—a journey often over some pretty rough terrain—and whatever hasn’t killed us yet can refine our natures and lift us closer to our Lord.
You and I can get down about the mountains to climb, the dark clouds, the annoying wind, the rain blowing in our faces, the rocks we keep stubbing our toes on, the blisters, etc. But my brother, though he was basically blind could see what most of us miss. It’s that blasted rain we’re so angry at that’s making those flowers grow at our feet, lining our way to our journey’s end.
There is happiness to be found in the midst of our difficulty and we can miss it if we don’t open our eyes and look for it. Joy is calling to you and me, all along the way! I love my brother for teaching me that. He never said it, but he lived it. And the vivid picture of him in my memory is worth more than ten thousand sermons!
Rest of Brian's Story I loved you song about your brother Brian, thank you for sharing the rest of his story. I have a son Brian and while I hope he doesn't have to endure that magnitude of trials, he is a shining example to our family. Thank you for a song that brings tears to my eyes each time I hear it.
Roberta and Richard said...
August 20, 2009
WOW It is wonderful that your brother was so positive and such a great example to you and all others around him. This is the way we are all supossed to be. I'm grateful for my trials and the growth that I have had thru them. I truly believe that Our Father in Heaven tailor makes each person's trials. He knows what we can handle and what we cannot. We have to have faith in HIM, our creator, and be as stong as he thinks we are, even when it is hard! May Heavenly Father Bless you and Yours Always and Forever! Love Roberta
I recently returned to my hometown of Glenwood, Alberta, Canada. It was a special occasion celebrating one hundred years since the first branch of the LDS church was organized in the small town that even now only has approximately 300 residents. Not the same people of course, however there were two 96-year-old brethren in attendance with many memories of years gone by. I was reminded of the words of T.S. Elliot, "We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."
In my mind I could once again hear the sound of the forlorn train whistle in the distance and saw again the billowy white clouds we watched as kids while we laid on the grass looked up into the beautiful blue sky to ponder. It was a time we learned to not only look but to see and not only listen but to hear. Then I began to wonder. Are we blinded by the miracles of today because our overcrowded lives find us looking but not really seeing and listening but not taking time to really hear? Do we live life everyday or just spend it? Does the glitter of the world ever rob us of the glory of the gospel? What miracles has your "seeing" provided for you today?
A good reminder for each busy day might be taken from the sign in bold letters located at the edge of the railroad crossing in my hometown: stop, look, and listen. When we take time to step out of the world, even for a minute, we will see the miracles of God in our daily lives, and discover the wonderful things we may be missing. Otherwise, we could get run over by the enticing distractions of the fast moving train and completely miss the joy of the journey.
Spending rather than living... This really struck a chord with me because I need to take the time to stop, look, and listen. I have found that when I forget to live and take the time only to spend, I am unhappy and unable to help others in this effort either. Thanks for the sweet reminder, Ardeth!
See if you can find yourself in any of the following (and I realize that if you find yourself in ALL of the following, you’ll need to take 2 aspirin and go to bed for a few days).
You’ve been searching for your lists, and for your Master List which can help you find all your various lists. Most of them, title or not, are Things To Do. And OH!... how you wish you just be LISTLESS for even a few minutes or a whole hour.
You’ve been doing, it seems, endless loads of laundry the past few days (years), searching for anything that is not yet washed, rinsed, folded, and "returned to sender." ... and then your 3 soccer players come through the door... You could purchase and use the new, improved "Perpetual Motion" washing machine, but it still would never be enough...
You’ve been taking children lo here and lo there all day every day, imitating taxi drivers you’ve met in your life, chatting and trying to strike a pleasant "note" (feeling, perhaps, that you’re tone deaf and there aren’t any notes left in the small-to-begin-with musical part of your brain).
You’ve kicked the dust off and out in seemingly never-ending cycles, occasionally first writing yourself a positive note ("you look terrific today!") ("has anyone ever told you you look like __________" ... fill in the blank with someone you admire not just because of their outward appearance).
You’ve fixed meals and lunches and snacks and picnics for yourself and everyone else over and over and over again... do you think in "your world" you’re going to have a meal last longer (inside the person)? That is, if we do eat Over There.
You’ve worked on your Relief Society or Sunday School or Young Women or Primary lessons for half your life (it seems), and yet you never feel completely prepared. It’s never quite enough. You wonder how often you’ve ever really taught anyone.
You’ve done your best to read from The Book of Mormon or other scriptures every day of your life, but you’ve missed an accumulation of about 93 months’ worth in the total number of years you’ve been on the earth...
STOP! (That’s YOU shouting at MEE, not the other way around, although I was sorely tempted....)
Let’s look at Doctrine and Covenants 104:17, that first little part. "For the earth is full, and there is enough and to spare...." IF you have time, read verses 11 through 18, which will put this beautiful phrase in context.
For now, just consider this message from the Lord: "the earth is FULL, and there is ENOUGH and to SPARE."
What if this means more than just olives, figs, whales, locusts, rhubarb and oi?
What if it also means minutes, hugs, pennies, energy, hope, forgiveness, grace, compassion, understanding, longsuffering, charity . . .
What if it means you not only HAVE enough, but you ARE enough.
Yes: YOU!
You, even as you’re "buried" by your dust and your lists and your lack of sleep.
You, with so much on your mind and in your heart which brings tears ... sometimes of joy, sometimes of grief, sometimes of "HELP!... PLEASE HELP!"
I write a little note this morning to tell you that They (Who are in Heaven) KNOW ... They are AWARE. They are deeply interested in YOU. And if you’ll give Them some space, They’ll come and help (yes, even with laundry). Not like friends and neighbors (and even family members?) do... it may be that They’ll shoot a little energy into you with Their sweet magic (actually called miracles). Something like that.
Let Them. Please. You ARE enough if you’re with Them. More than enough when you let Them help.
Have you ever had “one of those days”? You know, one of those days when you just want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers up over your head? We’ve all experienced those difficult times when, even though we’d like to try it, eating all the ice-cream in the world won’t make the problems go away.
Perhaps, you have recently felt overwhelmed with the normal stresses of life. Or maybe you are now feeling the very real pain of a broken heart or other serious tragedy. You may be feeling completely alone and can relate to the Prophet Joseph Smith, when he cried from Liberty Jail, “O God, where art thou?” (D&C 121:1).
Even when life seems the darkest and relief seems so far away, I know that we are not left alone. Our loving Heavenly Father is extremely aware of our hurts and pains; our disappointments and despair. He is helping us more than we know.
I love the kind words of encouragement the Lord gives Joseph while he suffered in prison, “Therefore, hold on thy way…” (D&C 122:9).
Similarly, Christ offers you and me this same message to, “hold on thy way…” when we feel as though we are drowning under the currents of adversity. He is near to save us, comfort us, protect us, and love us.
Recently, I felt this during the October 2008 General Conference. I was feeling troubled, and I needed to feel the Spirit of the Lord. As Elder Holland spoke of the ministering of angels, I received the peace and comfort I longed for. I felt that the Lord was addressing me personally.
Speaking of Adam and Eve being sent from the Garden of Eden and from God’s presence, Elder Holland taught, “But God knew the challenges they would face, and He certainly knew how lonely and troubled they would sometimes feel. So He watched over His mortal family constantly, heard their prayers always, and sent prophets (and later apostles) to teach, counsel, and guide them. But in times of special need, He sent angels, divine messengers, to bless His children, reassure them that heaven was always very close and that His help was always very near” (Jeffrey R. Holland, “The Ministry of Angels,” Ensign, Nov 2008, 29–31).
The Comforter touched my heart, and reassured me that I was not alone. Heavenly Father is aware of me, and he is aware of you. He will not leave us alone.
My invitation is that, when life seems the darkest and you and I feel alone and overwhelmed, we remember to “hold on thy way.” As we hold on and trust that heavenly help is available and very near, we will make it through those times which feel impossible to navigate.
One holiday season, more than ten years ago, my Sarah asked Santa for a fancy mouse. Since Santa had no place to keep a smelly little rodent until his big delivery night, he asked the owner of a local pet shop to save a certain tiny pink-nosed critter until he could pick it up on Christmas Eve. (This Santa happened to wear skirts and drive a Big Mormon Wagon.)
Getting that animal was all Sarah could talk about. My starry-eyed five-year-old absolutely knew it would be the very best Christmas ever!
The busy festivities of the season rapidly sped by and before Santa was totally prepared for Christmas Eve, it was time to pick up the little mouse for his early-morning deliveries the next day. The pet store closed at 4:00 pm, and he barely squeezed through the doors before quitting time.
Upon asking for the mouse-on-hold, the pet store owner began to sweat. “It’s been a very crazy day,” he explained. “And things got a little bit disorganized.”
“Disorganized?” Santa questioned.
“Yes,” he continued. “Well, uhhh. You see, in all of the confusion, we sold every single mouse, hamster, and guinea pig in the store! But we do have some rats left.”
“RATS?” Santa replied in shock and amazement.
A sudden sinking feeling crept over Santa as he listened to the pet shop guy give a ten minute oration about how rats actually make much better pets than do mice, hamsters, or guinea pigs.
Thoughts of burning ham left in his oven at home began to blur Santa’s mind and he started to envision little Sarah waking up on Christmas morning, only to see a giant RAT staring back at her through the slits of the clean white cage she had chosen in November!
With no other pet store options from which to choose, Santa reluctantly boxed up two baby “female” rats -- a white one with a pink nose, and a light brown one with a grayish nose. (Two-for-the-price-of-one was the very best deal Santa could strike at such a late hour.)
On Christmas morning, Sarah rushed to see the cute little cuddly mouse she had longed for, planned for, and prepared for over the course of several weeks. I held my breath as she peered carefully into the cage.
“Two wats?” she muttered, not yet “R” proficient. She stared at those rats so intently, realizing they were not at all what she had envisioned seeing there that magical morning. I saw her bite her little lip and put a smile on her determined, sweet face.
“Wow! I got TWO wats everybody! Come and see…”
Now, I’m not very pleased about my laid-back planning approach to Christmas that season, nor of the trust I placed in the pet shop owner’s guarantee of raising two female rodents (these rats had several babies - more than once) but I am sort of amazed (and especially pleased) that Sarah was able to just roll with her reality being much less exciting than her expectation had been.
As ambitious, starry-eyed grown women, we might occasionally feel like we’re staring into the cages of our own lives, only to see something MUCH DIFFERENT than we ever planned, hoped, or prepared to see waiting there for us. But like my Sarah, we each have a choice to make when we see the rats staring back. Do we throw a spoiled tantrum? Do we claim we’ve been robbed? After all, didn’t we make our life-expectations ultimately clear to our Father in Heaven through prayer?!
What Sarah had learned so well in Kindergarten that year is also great advice for us when our reality doesn’t precisely measure up to our expectations. And that’s simply, “You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit.” After all, Heavenly Father may not be giving us exactly what we want because He knows exactly what we need.
One of the most revealing moments in the Savior’s ministry in the America’s is often missed. I know I missed it even after years of reading the Book of Mormon. It does not happen on the first day’s visit but on his return the following day. We read this brief description: “And it came to pass that he did teach and minister unto the children of the multitude of whom hath been spoken, and he did loose their tongues and they did speak unto their fathers great and marvelous things, even greater than he had revealed unto the people; and he loosed their tongues that they could utter.” (3 Nephi 26:14)
I am touched and instructed by this verse for two reasons. First the Savior allowed the junior primary to teach the deepest truths of the three-day visit eclipsing even his own personal commentaries. Second, they were to instruct their fathers. I think he was sending us all a message that we listen to our children, for they may have the most momentous teachings to offer us.
I recall one evening coming home to find my three year old daughter busily engaged in a conversation with someone on her toy pink telephone. She was quite animated both in her questions and comments and in the expression on her face as she listened to whoever she was pretending to talk with. Being somewhat curious, I asked her, “Megan who are you talking to?” She looked up at me with a mildly annoyed expression as if to say, “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” She then continued with her conversation. I decided to be persistent so I quietly asked again, “Who is it?” She returned my gaze and whispered with a tone of awe yet still mingled with a touch of impatience at my interruptions, “It’s Jesus!”
She then returned to her phone. I could not resist asking one final question before I left her to that wonderful world of a child’s imagination. “What is he telling you?” I whispered back. She paused for a moment as if she was receiving some final thoughts from the voice on the other end of the phone, then removing the phone from her ear, she answered, “He telling me to get married in the temple.” I almost picked up the phone to see if someone was really there.
I have often reflected on that tiny encounter with a small child. The intensity of her effort to listen, that look of total immersion in a conversation that seemed to her the most important in her life has more than once caused me to ask if my interactions with God are expressed and engaged in with an equal amount of concentration? Perhaps, most of all was the innocence of her casual relationship with the divine that totally disarmed me. Do we not worship a God who would commune with us as openly and freely as my daughter with her pink toy telephone? Often, his voice is found in the voices of our children.
The most powerful witness of all is the witness that comes to each of us as the Spirit testifies to our spirits. President Joseph Fielding Smith wrote, “When a man has the manifestation from the Holy Ghost, it leaves an indelible impression on his soul, one that is not easily erased. It is Spirit speaking to spirit, and it comes with convincing force. A mani- festation of an angel, or even of the Son of God himself, would impress the eye and mind, and eventually become dimmed, but the impressions of the Holy Ghost sink deeper into the soul and are more difficult to erase.” (Answers to Gospel Questions, comp. Joseph Fielding Smith Jr., 5 vols., 1958, 2:151)
That is the witness received by a young man I met at a youth conference on the campus of BYU-Hawaii. The boy’s name was Jack. His nickname was “Jack the Ripper.” He was not as big as that name might suggest, but he was tough. Heaven only knows what got him to the youth conference where I met him. Rumor was that he rolled his truck and his dad told him the only way he would help pay for the damages was if he attended the youth conference. One thing for sure, Jack didn’t want to be there. He ignored most of the activities and wore a face that let everyone know he was bored and distant.
I thought, “How do I reach this kid?” I’d almost decided I couldn’t, but still, I felt I should try to arrange for our paths to cross. It was more difficult than I imagined. If he came to anything, he was always the last one there and first to leave.
Finally, during one of the meals, I saw my chance. Jack had just gotten his plates (yes, plates, and no one dared to tell him it was against the rules to take more than one) and sat in the back of the cafeteria away from everyone. I quickly got my food and joined him. I didn’t ask if I could sit at the same table. I was afraid Jack would say no. I didn’t ask. I just did it.
“Hi!” I said, “How are you?”
No response.
“Well, I’m sure hungry. How about you?”
No response.
I kept talking, “I’m glad the food is good because I love to eat and that reminds me of something.” During the entire meal, I carried on a beautiful conversation with the top of Jack’s head. Jack never even lifted his eyes or acknowledged my presence. As Jack got close to finishing his food, I felt strongly that I needed to reach this young man somehow. “Do you like sports?” I asked.
No response.
“How many are in your family?”
No response.
Finally, completely dry of ideas and fishing for anything to say, I asked, “So, why do you wear that earring in your ear?”
Jack’s head shot up and he stared at me. Had his eyes been a karate move, it would definitely have been black-belt material.
He said, “I wear this earring to bug old farts like you.”
I told myself to stay quiet and let it go, but I felt upset. I had really been trying hard to be nice—and Jack knew it. I disobeyed the restraining feelings I was having and said, “Well, Jack, congratulations. You have reached your goal. It does bug me. And I’ll tell you why it bugs me. Because you are not only wearing an earring, you are wearing a crucifix, and you are not wearing it for any religious reason whatsoever, and that is like the cross my Savior was killed on.”
Jack pretended not to be listening as he quickly stood and left, banging his cafeteria tray down on the table and then the door behind him. Several of the adult leaders looked at me with puzzled expressions. Things had backfired. After all, the goal of a youth conference is not to drive teenagers out of the Church. I picked up my fork and pushed at the cold food I’d been too busy to eat. For one of the few times in my life, I wasn’t particularly hungry anymore.
It would be nice to report that Jack came to the rest of the activities with a better attitude or that he bore a tearful testimony at the end of the conference. But he didn’t. After the cafeteria episode, he took off and did not come back.
On the Sunday after the conference ended, I had been asked to speak at a special fireside for the deacons and beehive girls. They had not been able to attend youth conference, and local leaders make it a point that no older youth would be allowed in.
I was at the pulpit in the middle of my talk when, at the chapel doors, “Jack the Ripper” appeared. He found a place on the back row and folded his arms. Adult leaders around the room began playing eye-tag back and forth. Their unspoken messages were easy to read: “He’s not supposed to be here,” “I know, so you tell him,” “I’m not going to tell him so you tell him.”
At the pulpit, I instantly changed my subject to one about repentance. Now all the young people were listening to words and a testimony that were pointed directly at the young man on the back row who wasn’t even supposed to be there.
After the fireside, the 12- and 13-year-olds lined up to present me and some of the other guests with Hawaiian leis. Suddenly Jack stood and started coming forward as well—and he was not about to wait in line behind a bunch of younger kids. He plowed to the front. I was scared. We were in a church, surrounded by witnesses, but I knew I had been pretty point-blank with this kid.
As Jack reached the stand, he looked straight at me and said, “It’s about what you said.” Then he reached up to his ear, took off the crucifix, and placed it in my hand. “Now don’t you go wearing that”—he smiled slightly—“because that is what they killed my Savior on, and that would really bug me.” I hugged him.
Everyone has treasured objects—a grandmother’s photograph or a mother’s wedding ring. I also have a small collection of items that mean nothing to anyone else but a great deal to me. One treasure I keep is a single earring—a gold crucifix given to me by a boy named Jack.
Why does he believe in Christ? I can’t imagine that Jack could recite the Joseph Smith story and he probably had never undertaken a serious study of the Book of Mormon. He would have to mature some before he would appreciate the testimonies borne at General Conference by living apostles and prophets. Why did Jack believe? Because the Spirit touched his spirit. Those whose hearts have been turned to Christ by the Spirit are never the same. Anyone who has felt the Spirit for even half a minute knows this is true.
An Earned Testimony Dear Brad
I appreciate your story and your message from both sides. I can understand your side at having the best of intentions and going on the promptings of the spirit and then having that danged ole serpents tongue, not you me, jump out and bite someone and leaving you with the sting. But I also know what it is like to be Jack. To be rebellious and rough around the edges but being of value just the same. I know what it is like to have that spirit really touch your own spirit. I believe that my testimony was earned, maybe by my own choices but it was still earned. You can't have testimony with out the word test and lets just say I was thoroughly schooled. My life has and is hard but it is one I brought upon myself by my own actions and choices. But this life is something the Lord in his infinite wisdom is going to use as a tool. And lets just say I may not have a degree from BYU but I certainly have things to do.
Bri
dianne said...
July 16, 2009
Rebellious type
I appreciate your story and experience with this young man. I've been a member of the church, with a strong testimoney, for 32 years. I still have a hard time accepting some of the stipulations put on the youth in certain areas.
Why is there age limits on a spiritual fireside? Wouldn't someone a year or two younger, or a year or two older greatly benefit from the spiritual experiences of such? The thought that it crossed someones mind to tell this young man to leave is really sad. And as it turned out, good thing no one did!
There was a similar experience one of my sons had when attending a youth dance one night. He had been inactive for several years. Not in to bad things, just wasn't attending church as much as he should. My kids always had a hard time finding "real" friendship with most of the kids. They all came from in tact hmes where the dad did what a dad should do. ANyway, I told him about the dance that night and suggested he might want to go. He didn't know it was SUnday dress until he got there and wore jeans. He had barely walked through the door when an over inthused youth leader inforemd him that he COULD NOT COME IN OR STAY. He was promptly asked to leave. The REALLY upsetting thing was that this leader was from our ward and KNEW he hadn't been in a long time. It still makes my heart ache for him many years later. As a conequence he still has issues with people at church for not accepting him as he is. Oh he has a strong testimoney, it's just the people many times get caught up in the "Guidelines" instead of the "Gospel". Can you imagine Jesus Christ asking either of these young men to leave? I can't either.
At Time Out for Women, we feel there are few things better than a good family cookout. So, we asked Ardeth Kapp, along with a couple other TOFW presenters to share their family cookout “must-haves”, and are passing them along to you. Enjoy!
Ardeth’s Baked Beans
Ardeth Kapp
At a summer family cookout, it seems everyone is known for at least one specialty that everyone looks forward to eating. My two sisters, both excellent cooks whatever the recipe, are known for their specialties. Some time ago, I had not yet achieved recognition for a specialty. But then one time I made baked beans and they were a hit—everyone raved and even asked for the recipe! From that time on, I knew my beans were an important part of our cookouts and they are so easy to make. No possible failure—it’s a sure success!
ARDETH’S BAKED BEANS
2 large cans of Pork 'n Beans
1 cup brown sugar
1 small bottle ketchup
1 can crushed pineapple (drained)
4 Tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
Mix all together and bake at 300 degrees for 2 ½ hours. The dish, when served, just looks like beans but when you indulge in a taste, they are a delicious and you can’t help going back for a second helping. Enjoy!
Island Salsa
DeAnne Flynn
Summer means "salsa." Salsa on tortilla chips, salsa on fish, salsa on chicken or fajitas, or salsa alone on your spoon! And there's nothing better than homemade salsa -- especially with homegrown tomatoes.
Here's a fun, fresh recipe my family loves called "Island Salsa." It's perfect for hot summer days because it's cool, healthy, and delicious. I got this recipe from my friend, Grace Ivory Rock, who compiled all of her family's best recipes into a fabulous cookbook called, "FAVORITES." We love Grace -- and her salsa recipe. It will make you feel like you're in the islands, just for the price of a few groceries.
ISLAND SALSA
2 large ripe tomatoes, chopped
1 ripe mango, peeled, seeded and chopped
2 kiwi fruits, peeled and chopped
1/2 cup chopped red pepper
1/2 cup chopped yellow pepper
1/2 cup chopped green pepper
1/4 cup chopped red onion
1/2 jalapeno pepper, cored, seeded and diced
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
freshly ground black pepper
In a large bowl, combine tomatoes, mango, kiwi, peppers, onion, jalapeno, lime juice, cilantro, cumin and pepper to taste. Mix well and chill up to 8 hours.
Enjoy!
Watts Family Clam Dip
Emily Watts
When I was engaged to my husband, Larry, the first thing I had to demonstrate was approval of his mother’s clam dip. You can’t be a Watts if you don’t like this dip. Larry’s mom, Juel, made it for every family occasion I can remember except one. The single time it was omitted, you would have thought the sky had fallen. It’s just not a party at the Watts house without the clam dip.
WATTS FAMILY CLAM DIP
2 boxes (8 oz. each) cream cheese
2 cans (6 oz. each) minced clams, drained, ½ cup of liquid reserved
2 Tbsp. lemon juice
2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
1/8 tsp. garlic powder
Beat all ingredients except clams together, including ½ cup of reserved liquid from clams. When well mixed, add clams. Serve with potato chips. Refrigerate leftovers (I assume, though I’ve never yet actually seen any leftovers of this dip). Makes enough for 8-10 regular people or 3 Watts boys.
Baked Beans! This must be a good old southern Alberta recipe (maybe from the Leavitt side of the family). My mom passed away a few years ago and I never did get her baked beans recipe. I've tried and failed many times, and never quite got it. This is it! Thank you for sharing a "comfort" food recipe.
Rita Butts
In winter of 2008, my oldest daughter and I decided to make a trip to Nauvoo. It was a long way to go for a weekend trip, but we had very sweet experiences in the short time available.
What we could not have anticipated when planning the trip two months earlier was that on Saturday, February 2 we would visit Carthage jail where Joseph Smith was killed, drive through the countryside traversed by the martyred prophet’s body, then arrive at the Nauvoo visitor’s center in time to watch the televised funeral procession of our own prophet, Gordon B. Hinckley, making its way through the streets of Salt Lake City.
We joined more than a hundred senior missionaries who serve in Nauvoo, standing as one when President Hinckley’s casket began its short journey from the parking structure into the conference center he commissioned. We watched as President Monson stood at the pulpit made from the wood of President Hinckley’s tree. We cried with the family and smiled with Church leaders who paid their tributes.
After the funeral, we drove to the graves of Joseph and Hyrum Smith and contemplated what it might have meant to the early Saints to lose their prophet in June of 1844, a young and vibrant leader who had galvanized a people to build a Zion city, a holy temple, and a body of scriptures for a new dispensation. And we contemplated what it was like for us to lose our prophet, equally vibrant, equally if not as personally loved. A prophet who had galvanized us to build temples, education, and stakes of Zion for a new generation.
I don’t know how the Saints handled their loss. I can’t begin to imagine how devastated they must have been. They lacked clear patterns for succession. Their lives, too, were threatened. The journey Joseph’s death sent them toward was long and difficult, requiring them to leave behind so much they had come by so hard.
Like those early Saints, we are called upon to transfer our allegiance to new leaders, even while we mourn the passing of the old ones. We should be used to this, I suppose. Even without the intervention of death, our bishops, Sunday School teachers and visiting teachers come and go with predictable regularity, like children playing musical chairs. Then the music stops and someone has to leave the circle. Last year the music stopped on President Hinckley.
Both death and the rotations of Church service require us to accept change and let go, but they also give us at least two sweet opportunities. First is the opportunity to gain a witness from God of the truthfulness and vitality of this work. I can tell you the precise moment when I received such a witness for each prophet of my lifetime. The first time I heard someone pray for President Monson as the president of the Church I felt the spirit confirming his appointment. I am grateful to remember that this is the Church of the Living God, the one who speaks to His people today.
A second opportunity, even more important, is the reminder that our allegiance is not to a man, even as great a man as a prophet of God. Our allegiance is to the Savior. The One who came back from death, and who promises us that death will not be the end of us either. That is a vital reminder. The Saints didn’t cross the plains because of Joseph, or Brigham. They crossed the plains because of their testimony of Jesus Christ. We still live out that legacy.
Four words: treading water and polished rocks. (I guess that’s five words if you count the “and.” But seriously, who counts “ands”?)
When I think of my favorite family vacation growing up, it would have to be our trip to Cody, Wyoming. Why? Because I learned how to tread water and I bought polished rocks. Who doesn’t buy polished rocks on a vacation in Wyoming? Oh sure, you can visit Yellowstone, go to a rodeo, experience a dude ranch, or learn about Buffalo Bill. But until you have purchased polished rocks, you haven’t actually had a successful Wyoming experience.
I still remember what my polished rocks looked like. I kept them in a little pouch and would pull them out once in a while to organize and admire them.
It is quite a process to polish your own rocks. I remember my dad buying a polishing machine and setting it up in our garage. We loaded it with rocks from the neighborhood. The churning and turning of the polisher was an incredibly loud, not to mention long, process. But it was worth it. In the end, the rocks shone. Their true colors came through. They were smooth to the touch. They were beautiful.
Do you ever feel like one of the rocks—a little rough around the edges, waiting to be polished and made beautiful? Sure, it takes time, and the process hurts a little sometimes. But it is worth it. Each time we are polished, we become a little more beautiful. And, just like the best part of a Wyoming experience is the polished rocks, the best part of life’s experience is becoming refined and polished!
The other thing I’ll always remember about Cody, Wyoming, is learning how to tread water. We talked our dad into taking us out to the pool one evening. Dads are so good about getting the pool, even when it’s cold or dark. My husband does that with our kids too. I like to sit on the edge where it’s warm and dry and cheer them on. But not dads. They get in. And this time in the pool, our dad played with us for what seemed like hours. He took me to the deep end, where the water was well above my head, and taught me how to move my arms and legs so that my head stayed above the water. It was fun. I liked it. I liked knowing that if I had to survive in deep water I could. I treaded water for the rest of the night.
Some days it feels like all we do is tread water. And there are times when our heads are barely above the water line. But we keep going, we keep trying, because eventually we know we’ll get to rest on the side. We’ll have little reprieves here and there until life gets busy and we tread again.
Ultimately all the polishing and treading makes us strong. It brings out our true colors and our beauty. We come to know that we can survive the difficult things. We can keep our lives above water. We can go through the Refiner’s fire. And in the end it will be worth it!
This is EXACTLY what I needed today thank you so much for writing this Hilary. I REALLY needed this today.
Karen said...
June 18, 2009
Hilary Weeks Great analogies. Can use them in church lessons. When are you recording a new CD? I have all of your recordings and adore your music and voice.
K Smith
Brigham City UT
Several weeks ago my little two-year-old daughter was playing with her toys and decided to strap on her butterfly wings. She was having a pretty good time for a while, until she got further down in the toy box and found her purple superhero cape. She wanted to put it on. When my husband tried to convince her to take off the wings, she refused. So he Velcroed the cape on right over the wings. It was awkward. She yanked on it for a while to keep it from being so jagged, but she looked like a crooked purple hunchback. She tried to go with it for as long as she could, but pretty soon she flew back over to us and uttered a very profound truth. I only wish I could remember her exact toddler jargon for this. But essentially, she said, "No cape. Alrey butterfly."
Think about it. You don't need a cape if you're already a butterfly! The moment I heard her say it, I knew it meant something. But it has taken a little bit of time for the meaning to unfold for me. I spend a lot of time—too much time, really—trying to fit into a cape. I see my neighbor in a beautiful cape, making incredible gourmet dinners with vegetables from her backyard. It's usually on a day I hardly had time to pick up a pizza. I see songwriting friends writing songs I truly wish I had written. They're so good. I see their capes billowing in the wind. I go to the mall to try to find something that can make me look amazing—and then I notice the ridiculous price tag. Capes I can't afford. I get discouraged.
All the while, I don't remember that I have wings! I have my own set of gifts. My own list of things I do best. If I paid better attention, I might notice some of those superhero ladies admiring my wings, even wishing for them.
Is being a butterfly better than being a superhero? Not necessarily. But is a superhero better than a butterfly? I'd say not. I have to admit that most of the time I feel more like a caterpillar than a butterfly. But I'm starting to remember more often that I really do have wings. I want to use them to do what they're best at, and fill this world with the things that only I can give. I want to quit trying so hard to be someone else. Easier said than done, I know.
I have lots of superheroes in my life, and I'm so grateful for them. I will always try to be more like them. But I'll try to do it in my own special butterfly way, because that's who I am. And I get the feeling that God loves butterflies quite a lot.
So true...and it's not like we haven't heard this before, but we need to be reminded over and over. Thanks for helping voice this in such a beautiful way.
April said...
June 02, 2009
you are a butterfly I love this analogy. I am usually trying so hard to be both butterfly and super hero that I probably look a little wompyjaw myself. (Thats Texan for off kilter) When I think of Cherie Call I think of super hero, butterfly and incredible music. Your music lifts my spirits every single day and I am telling the truth. Not a day goes by that I don't listen to you, Hilary Weeks, and Jenny Jordan Frogley. I even teach yoga using your music. I bet no one has ever told you that one. Keep up the great work. You are loved and admired and keep us wompyjaw butterflies with our eyes on the horizon instead on the burned pizza in the oven.
April Bonds, Lindale, Texas
So even though it appears that Kris Belcher is writing this post, she’s not, it’s just ABOUT her. WE are the lucky ones who get to write all the fun stuff about her. We just wanted Kris’s fun picture to show up, rather than ours.
Have you ever met someone who, without you even realizing it, starts becoming one of your “favorites”? You know, the type of person you just love being around because they help you feel a little better about life and one way or another they make you laugh?
Well, that’s how we feel about Kris Belcher.
And the more we get to know her, the more we have wanted to share her with all of you.
We started doing that at our events this year, and are not surprised by the thousands of lives she has touched through her presentation. Take a peek…
And now this month we share more of this great woman and her story of hope, faith and healing, through our Book Club’s featured title, HARD TIMES AND HOLY PLACES
And aside from being a great speaker, author and friend, we just can’t get over how much she makes us laugh.
So whether you get to hear her presentation, read her book or just know her vicariously through us, we wanted to make sure each of you got a little dose of Kris Belcher in your life.
She’s just good for the soul.
Thank you! I saw you at TOFW in Seattle. As a mother of disabled children (ADD, Autism, & Cerebral Palsy) I was so touched by your presentation. I hope I can be like your mother and raise children who love Christ and want be in His service in spite of their difficulties! I've ordered your book and can't wait to get it and discuss it with my sisters at TOFW book club. Most of them weren't able to go to the conference and I was so thrilled to share with them how great you were and insist that they get your book. Thanks again!
Becky said...
June 07, 2009
THANK YOU I just finished reading Kris' book and also spent time with her at the blind center. An incredible woman and she gives me hope and inspiration as my vision is deteriorating. Thanks for featuring her! Becky - www.cruisinwithcricket.blogspot.com
One of the things that has been so fun about our tour this year are the new additions…a new theme…some new music…new totebags…
And new presenters.
We hope to introduce you to all of them this year.
And first up is Sister Kristen Oaks, wife of Elder Dallin H. Oaks.
It has been such a privilege to have Kristen join us at a few of our events this Spring. Though her travel schedule keeps her very busy, we’ve had the treat of having her join us in Seattle & Billings (and hope to include her at a few more cities this fall!)
I remember the first time I was meeting with Kristen. I was a little nervous and found the situation a little intimidating. She’s just one of those totally “put together” women (I, on the other hand, am NOT). But, in addition to being smart and gracious and good…she’s also incredibly down to earth. And I was so excited to get her to an event. I love how in one minute she’s calling us to action and in the next minute she’s got us giggling right along with her.
In addition to presenting at TOFW events, Kristen is also a first time author sharing a message she feels strongly is relevant to all women in A SINGLE VOICE. It’s a thoughtful look at living an “unexpected life” (who of us hasn’t?). One reader said, “I love the tone of practicality and spirituality.” We asked Kristen to share one of her favorite parts of the book.
Kristen, we love you and we’re so grateful that you have been able to find some time out of your busy schedule to be a part of our TOFW family. You’ve been a perfect addition!
So with mother’s day fast approaching I’ve been thinking about the great women in my life who’ve made such a remarkable difference and yet may not know how changed I’ve been by them. I seriously doubt there’s a person reading this who doesn’t know a wonderful person who has no idea how wonderful they really are....in fact, it’s almost impossible to tell them how great their terrificness is without them deflecting the compliment to someone more worthy of the praise. And they’re not being falsely modest or incredibly humble...they just don’t believe it.
If you have someone like this in mind I’ll betcha it’s a woman.
Might be your mom, might be a friend. Probably it’s you.
I don’t know why it is, but it’s so hard for most of us to see the positive impact of our everyday lives. We see the screw-ups pretty clearly, and we can remember them, in detail, for decades. It’s the everyday, just regular good stuff about ourselves that never gets celebrated. Maybe that’s why IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE keeps making us cry year after year.
I remember somebody telling me once that most songwriters only write one or two songs, and then basically write them over and over again using different melodies and words. That might be true for me. Sometimes I feel like my internal wiring just picks up on others’ goodness and flashes a message to the rest of my soul: RIGHTEOUSNESS ALERT!! WARNING, WARNING!! YOU’RE STANDING ON HOLY GROUND. HUMAN COMPASSION AT THREE O’CLOCK, COMPLETELY UNAWARE OF ITS DEGREES OF GOODNESS!!!
Along with this special wiring I also have a radar for those who beat themselves up, and sometimes for the tiniest of mistakes. It isn’t that these folks are by nature negative...they just have a magnifying glass in their brain when it comes to shortcomings.
Because I’ve seen this for so many years in so many different people...predominantly women I’ve known and admired and loved...I decided to smile at them and honor them in the same song.
Quarter to seven on a Thursday night
She’s running late again
She gets a ticket ‘cause she ran the light
Racing to help a friend
Then she remembers a promise made
A couple of weeks before
She’d bake the brownies for the PTA
But she’s run out of time
So she gets hers from the store
Quarter to seven on a Friday night
She’s running late again
What can she wear that’s gonna look just right
At the party she’s throwing for him?
Living on rice cakes and Diet Coke
She hasn’t lost that much
Her dress is too tight and her hair’s a joke
But the party’s a hit
‘Cause it had her magic touch
And she doesn’t know
That she’s an angel in disguise
And she doesn’t know
That we see heaven in her eyes
And she doesn’t know that she’s all right
She might have been blinded by the light
Of all the good that she does
That she doesn’t know
She’s been worried ‘bout the kids next door
Since the breakup last fall
Got them some T-shirts from a Hard Rock store
That they haven’t worn at all
Reading the paper about some plight
Plaguing a distant shore
Pulls out her checkbook and starts to write
And feels guilty she doesn’t send more
She doesn’t focus on the good she does
All she sees is where she’s failed her part
Can’t she see that we think she’s a saint
Because she’s givin’ all she has straight from her heart
Quarter to seven on a Sunday morn
She’s on her knees again
Aching for all who’ve been bruised and torn
She’s pleading for help for them
She has a rather extensive list
Of those she’s been praying for
But then she remembers the ones she missed
How sorry she feels once more
‘Cause she doesn’t know
That she’s an angel in disguise
And she doesn’t know that we see
Heaven in her eyes
And she doesn’t know that she’s all right
She might have been blinded by the light
Of all the good that she does
But she doesn’t see it because
She hits a traffic jam on a carpool morn
And feels guilty what she’s thinkin’
When she honks her horn
She wrote a sympathy note for her dear friend, Grace
But got it lost somewhere in cyberspace
And at the charity auction when she wanted to help
She raised her hands so many times she sort of bid against herself
She got the casserole made for her friend who was sick
But then apologized because the crust was too thick
She’s runnin’ to the soccer and the baseball games
She cheers for the teams but forgets their names
She doesn’t know that she’s a miracle
She doesn’t know her love is lyrical
She doesn’t know this song’s for her to hear
She doesn’t know that we are so sincere
She doesn’t know that she’s the best
She doesn’t know she’s passed the test
She doesn’t know, she doesn’t know
She doesn’t know
Could this possibly be you that this song is about? Could you be the angel in disguise in someone else’s life? Are you so busy doin’ the best you can that you’re blinded by the light of your own goodness?
If you’re answering “no” to these questions, and making a mental list of all the things on your list that haven’t yet been accomplished, will you just stop it...at least for a moment...and work with me on this.
Pretend for now, just pretend, that you’re the person in this song.
Quit laughing, we’re pretending. Get out the music and put it on your stereo. Crank it up and listen. Not with your ears but with your heart.
I’ll wait.
There was a moment, wasn’t there, while you were pretending, when something happened that was so touching it almost hurt to keep listening. The thought Could it be true? crossed your mind... Could you actually be that wonderful and that stupid at the same time?
Yes, you could, and you are, and that’s one of the reasons people love you so much. You’re a human being who makes mistakes and falls short and can’t quite get as much done as you want to in a day and guess what? If you weren’t here we’d be crying our eyes out because we’d miss you so much. We’d miss the way you laugh and the way you get mad at people that hurt others. We’d miss the stories you tell of your misadventures. We’d miss how blessed we’d feel when you pray for us. We’d miss the look on your face when you scoop the hot fudge directly out of the little pitcher and take it straight. We’d miss the way you sing along with Celine in the car when you don’t think anyone’s watching. We’d miss the way your eyes look when you’ve heard about someone’s heartache and the way your jaw tightens when you want to get revenge. We’d miss the brownies that you burned and the Mint Milanos you bought to replace them. We couldn’t stand watching Sleepless in Seattle without you. We’d miss the things we learned because of you. We’d miss the way we’ve been loved by you, even when you didn’t think you told us often enough. And we’d have felt totally cheated if we’d never known you. In fact, the world wouldn’t have a chance at being truly wonderful for us if you weren’t in it, being you.
Now that you’ve pretended that all of this is true, take a deep breath and come back to reality.
Guess what? The truth hasn’t changed.
Let yourself believe it.
Thank You!! I totally feel like this! I love this song and cry everytime I hear it. I think as women we always feel inadaquate. I know I do.
If we could just see for a minute how Heavenly Father sees us, we would be changed.
Thanks for this Michael!
Theresa said...
May 02, 2009
So touching to my heart Thank you, Dear Brother McLean. You are such an inspired and thoughtful person. I appreciate deeply how fitting this is for so many mothers, including myself, who often don't slow down enough to realize that we are doing good things, and perhaps instrumental in the lives of others. The events and acts and misadventures are such a big part of who we are, that we don't feel like it's anything exceptional or unique. Thank you for your praise and gratitude. Thank you for the marvelous reminder. Happy Mother's Day.
We love to camp, and often spend summer weekends somewhere in the great outdoors. As spring approaches we can barely wait to get the trailer packed and head out. Last Spring, in our excitement, we went too early. We pulled into the sand dunes in Delta, Utah just in time for a major windstorm. What was meant to be a nice relaxing weekend in the soft, warm sunshine turned into a terrible wilderness experience as we traveled all over southern Utah trying to find a break from the wind. We finally ended up at Yuba Lake. It was still really windy, but at least we weren’t surrounded by miles of sand.
That afternoon the kids wanted to hike down to the lake. Bundled up in hooded jackets, we followed a small trail down a sharp 25 foot incline and found ourselves in a little cove, with water from the lake lapping along the shore. It only took a few seconds to realize that the wind was not blowing in that little cove. Immediately, we removed our jackets to soak up the warm sunshine, and began to skip rocks across the smooth surface of the lake in front of us. I looked out and watched the whitecaps in the center of the lake that had formed from the force of the wind, and thought how interesting it was that somehow we had found the calm in the midst of the storm. Looking back on that trip, I remember that moment as one of the good parts.
Recently I read through 2 Nephi 2 and I noticed that Lehi chose “the good part” just like Martha’s sister, Mary did. I love the understanding that comes from this chapter. Lehi begins by speaking to Jacob, his first-born in the wilderness. He describes that wilderness experience with these words: tribulation, suffer, afflictions, and much sorrow. Then he counsels Jacob by saying, “he shall consecrate thine afflictions for thy gain.” The rest of the chapter is filled with Lehi’s testimony of the importance of free agency, and his abiding belief that men are free to choose. At the very end of that chapter, after testifying of the Savior, Lehi remarks, “and I have chosen the good part.” (2 Nephi 2:30)
With careful reflection and a moment of pause we are led to understand a very powerful principle. In the midst of our wilderness experiences we are free to choose. We can immerse ourselves in the tribulation, as we suffer through afflictions and sorrow, or we can understand that God will consecrate our afflictions for our gain. That doesn’t mean that the wilderness experience will be taken away, or even that it will become easier. It simply means that through that wilderness experience we can choose to come to know the greatness of God, and understand, just as Lehi did, that “all things have been done in the wisdom of him who knoweth all things.”(vs. 24) We can choose “the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah.”(vs. 8)
We can choose the good part.
Sweet Reminder What a sweet reminder how powerful our choice is. I am grateful for the wisdom of Lehi and aspire to be a mother that leaves this legacy as well!
- 75% of Americans are chronically dehydrated…
- In 37% of Americans, the thirst mechanism is so weak that it is often mistaken for hunger…
- Even mild dehydration will slow down one’s metabolism as much as 3%...
- Lack of water is the number one trigger of daytime fatigue…
- 8-10 glasses of water could significantly ease back and joint pain…
- A mere 2% drop in body water can trigger fuzzy short-term memory, trouble with basic math, and difficulty focusing on the computer screen or printed page?
Those are pretty amazing insights about the benefits of water. And more than that, I’m glad I can finally put my finger on why I struggled with basic math in High School. If I had only stopped by the drinking fountain on the way to class…(Giggle, grin.)
We all know how important water is! Every one of us at one time or another has been so thirsty that we would have trampled anything that got between us and a cold glass of water. Maybe it was after a long run on a summer day, or maybe after eating a rich piece of cheesecake. Perhaps we have felt that kind of thirst after fasting. Make no mistake, there is nothing like putting a refreshing glass of water to your lips and drinking until the thirst is entirely quenched.
Water is essential to life. We can’t live without it. Nothing can.
I recently read the autobiography of Helen Keller. Fabulous book, filled with inspiration and insights. I know you are familiar with Helen’s story, I was too, but there was one thing that hit me like a ton of bricks when I read it. The first word she recognized as a word, understanding the meaning and making the connection between what was being signed into her hand and what she was feeling pour over her hand was…water.
It wasn’t “doll,” though that was the first gift that Anne Sullivan gave Helen. It wasn’t “mom” or “dad” though Helen knew and loved them dearly. It was “water.” This is the experience as described by Helen’s own words:
“We walked down the path to the well-house, attracted by the fragrance of the honeysuckle with which it was covered. Some one was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word water, first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that “w-a-t-e-r” mean the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free!
"It would have been difficult to find a happier child than I was as I lay in my crib at the close of that eventful day and lived over the joys it had brought me, and for the first time longed for a new day to come.”
Interesting that Helen would describe that moment as the mystery of language being revealed. We know who has the power to reveal, to make known, open to our understanding…the Holy Ghost. I believe the Spirit opened her mind to the mystery of language. I believe that is how the connecting finally happened.
Then Helen uses these words to describe the word water – “living,” “light,” “hope,” “joy”, “set it free!.” The very same words we use to describe the Savior. When I think of the Savior as living water, it inspires a sense of awe and reverence. As water is to our physical bodies, so the Savior is to our souls. He quenches the thirst that comes from being separated from our Heavenly Home. He can slake the thirst that sets in when we sin. Through the living water that only He can offer, the thirst of loneliness, fear, doubt and discouragement can all be satisfied.
“With joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.” (Isaiah 12:3)
“Every one that thirsteth, come ye to the water.” (2 Nephi 9:50)
“If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink.” (John 7:37)
“Partake of the water of life freely.” (D&C 10:66)
I can understand the smallest part of what Helen felt that night as she fell asleep because through the Savior I have felt that same excitement for life. Because of Him I look forward to a new day to come. He is our source of joy, of light, of hope. May we all seek to partake of the water of life.
Basking in the Flow Thank you, Hillary. This came at a time when I needed the boost -- THIS boost -- the "perfect" time for me. I am very grateful that you shared it.
Cheyenne said...
April 15, 2009
Okay, love the uplift but am still reeling at losing 3% of your metabolism if you are mildly dehydrated. Seriously? I'm thirsty........
So glad the blog is up and running! We love you all and enjoy getting thoughts more frequently from you all!
Cheyenne
It’s never easy to say goodbye. At least that’s the way I feel about it.
Did you ever move from the neighborhood of your childhood, or the neighborhood of your season of joy and pleasant days?
Did you ever have a friend who was like a sister, even a twin, move away from you?
Did you ever feel yourself losing control in a room at the MTC as your first son or daughter to serve a mission (or your parents) pulled gently away from your hugs and your tears?
Did you ever have mixed feelings when a son or daughter married and a new family began, and they really did leave father and mother?
Have you ever been betrayed such that goodbye has been so hard, even maybe mixed with bitterness and a sense of deep loss?
Has it ever hurt, at any time in your life, to have a dear pet finish their time with you?
Have you ever struggled to say goodbye to a particular season of your life, like the season when everything "worked" pretty well (i.e., your health was good)?
Have you ever watched a loved one slip away through the thin veil to the next part of eternity?
How do YOU handle goodbyes? How have YOU made it through such tender and often painful experiences?
Does prayer help? Can you feel His and Their comfort and peace?
Does it help when you cry, even if you’re all by yourself?
Are the hymns a source of sweet consolation?
How about going in or even near a Temple? Does that help?
If you have someone you trust whom you can talk to, dies it bring solace and comfort?
Do memories help? Or do they sometimes just remind you of that which won’t be part of your relationship from now on?
Have you ever experienced the "Law of Compensation," where Heaven sweetly provides what you need in ever step of the process of saying goodbye?
Have your experiences brought to you a clear feeling of why the Holy Ghost has always been called the Comforter? Have you had times when you’ve realized how good He is with this assignment?
Have you been able to identify some specific things which have brought healing?
Can you think of lessons you’ve learned as you’ve faced the "time to say goodbye" (there’s a song with that phrase that really, really tips me over....)? Have you become more compassionate, more aware, more gentle and kind with others because you’ve said your own goodbyes?
Yesterday, on Jesus’s birthday, our sweet, fun, wonderful Mother was admitted to Hospice care — to the skill and compassion of those who’ve attended so many, many goodbyes.
I’m not sure I know how to say goodbye.
But I know what Easter means. And the Atonement. And the great Plan of Happiness. And the phrase that "God is love." And the sweet reality of having a Savior.
Saying goodbye It's never easy. I have to take comfort in the fact that many recent Conference talks have mentioned the loss of loved ones. I don't recall it being discussed as much as it has been in the last few years.
When my father died, I was ok with it. I was prepared and knew it was coming. When my mother died, my feelings are all over the place and I'm still trying to work them out.
A couple weeks ago, a dear friend of mine passed away and what came to my mind that day was "Sunday will come." (october 2006 conference)
I'm sorry you're having to go through this, but it will be ok. OH! and yes to the above questions.
Pamela said...
April 10, 2009
heart petals Your spirit is sure how to do things. It's the earthly body that holds us back. And yes, I have experienced all you describe above, and am still going through much of it. I have turned to your talks during a lot of this for me, because you always lift me up. Thankyou for that. I wish I was able to do the same for you. Just know that there are many who love you and are sorry for your heartbreak, and please carry our thoughts and prayers with you for whatever comfort that may bring. Pam
We have a grandson that was born with a birth defect. The lower part of his left arm and hand did not properly develop in utero. He refers to his short arm and undeveloped hand as his “nub.” (As you can imagine, Finding Nemo is one of his favorite movies.)
Although it hasn’t slowed him down very much and he certainly doesn’t consider himself handicapped, he does notice that he is different than others. He is getting to the age now where he is conscious of the stares and unkind comments about his “nub.” He recently told his mother that he wanted two hands like all of his friends. His “thorn in the flesh” was starting to become emotionally painful to bear—both for him and for all of us who love him so much and want the best for him. We hurt when he hurts. We feel badly when he feels badly.
In decorating her home for Christmas, our daughter put out the olive wood nativity set she received from us as a Christmas gift when we lived in Israel many years ago. It had taken a few “hits” through the years and through the many moves it had been through . There were a few chips and dents and a piece broken off here and there. One day, three year old Gavin excitedly exclaimed, “Mommy look! Jesus has a nub just like me!” Part of one of the carved wooden arms of the “baby Jesus” in the nativity set had been broken off. Who knows when the damage had occurred? It was so small that none of us had even noticed before. Yet, Gavin noticed. He was thrilled that Jesus had a “nub” too. Our daughter, Tiffany, explained to him that Jesus doesn’t really have a “nub,” but that He understands exactly what it is like for Gavin to have one. In that tender teaching moment, she once again taught him about the resurrection and how Jesus’ atonement ensures that someday Gavin will have a hand like everyone else. That satisfied him. “That’s okay, Mommy,” Gavin said, “I like my nub. I’ll keep it forever.”
What had been seen as a handicap—a burden, an embarrassment—was now seen in a much different perspective. Gavin was able to deal with his challenge better because he understood, even as a three year old, that Jesus understands what it is like to have a “nub,” that He will help Gavin throughout life, and someday give him a glorified body with an arm and hand that were missing in mortality. Just as Gavin rejoiced in Jesus having a “nub” like him, we all long to know that Jesus understands us, relates to us personally, and can succor us in our unique challenges and “thorns in the flesh.” We all want to have Jesus a little more like us, so we can trust that he really knows our pains and understands our weaknesses.
Thankfully prophets and apostles have testified that we indeed have a Savior who not only understands the burdens we carry, but carried them himself long before we bore them. He can strengthen us in our suffering, because He suffered all that we have to endure and more before we did.
In fact, Jesus knows what it is like to be every one of us. He knows us personally. He knows what we struggle with and what pains afflict us, because He experienced it all when he descended below all things (see D&C 122:8). That painful descent was part of what Elder Neal A. Maxwell called the “awful arithmetic of the atonement” (see Ensign, May 1985, 70-73).
Alma declared: And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and sicknesses of his people.
And he will take upon him . . . their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know how to succor his people according to their infirmities. (Alma 7:11-12.)
Succor is not a word that we use much in our normal, everyday conversations. Yet, it is a powerful word that conjures important images of help and aid. The word comes from the Latin succurrere which means literally “to run to help.” It implies “urgent assistance.” Have you ever succored someone—literally run to their assistance? Probably every parent has had the experience of hearing that “blood-curdling” cry of an injured child. We bolt into action immediately—a nanosecond probably doesn’t even pass before we are “off to the rescue.” There is nothing that prevents us from “running to” that beloved child.
Do you see the beauty of that imagery as you read Alma’s words again? Do you see the Savior bearing your burdens as well as mine, suffering your personal pains and mine, feeling our individual feelings of discouragement, inadequacy, and fear? What an incredible thought—because Jesus is filled with infinite compassion and mercy, because He intimately knows me and you, because He has been literally “touched with the feeling of our infirmities” (Hebrews 4:15)—He “runs to” our assistance! What comfort! What hope! What strength! I have felt His succoring aid.
In the eyes of a child I love that Brent Tops' sweet little grandson said that about the Savior. I am saddened by how often I forget that the Savior has literally experienced what I go through. It is a great reminder that we are really never alone in anything we experience. We can take comfort in knowing He knows perfectly how to succor each of Heavenly Father's children.
One of my most poignant childhood memories was talking late into the night with my mother one evening, sharing with her my sincere desire to feel our Savior’s love at one of the loneliest points of my life. “I’m just so homesick for heaven,” I told her quite emotionally, as if it were possible for her to simply get me on the next shuttle there.
She listened empathetically and comforted me the way she always did, but I soon realized that my need to feel Christ’s arms around me, and that my intense longing to be physically close to my Father in Heaven, wouldn’t completely leave while I was here on earth. In fact, I still have very similar feelings during various times in my life.
I don’t know why I was so surprised when my eternally sunny five-year-old daughter told me matter-of-factly not long ago, “Mom, I’m really homesick for heaven today.” I hadn’t heard those words uttered since my own childhood and they certainly spoke to my soul. I guess we are kindred spirits, Elizabeth and I.
No doubt, we all experience a longing for our heavenly home – inwardly sensing that we’re strangers here – being so far away from our true and most natural setting with God. It’s not hard to imagine how heartbreaking it must have been for our first parents when they were cut off from His presence and sent into this lone and dreary world to fend for themselves.
Today, like Adam and Eve, we’re each doing our best to “fend” and to remain faithful during our mortal sojourn. And even though we’re physically separated from our Eternal Father and His Son, we are gratefully each given a heavenly lifeline through prayer -- as well as the Holy Spirit to comfort and guide us while we’re away.
So, when life seems unbearably lonely and you feel like a stranger at the address printed on your bills – remember you’re probably just a little bit “homesick for heaven.” If you endure this earthly mission well, you’ll be there soon enough.
I’m sure they’ll leave the light on until you get there…
Beautiful post! Thanks for that sweet post. I think you put it well. We all miss heaven, but fortunately, our Father gives us His Spirit so we can have a little heaven on earth, too!
Stephen and Sheryl said...
March 17, 2009
Elevator to Heaven I was very touched by your comments regarding "Homesick for Heaven". With these trying times we're all facing, it's no wonder we are longing for our Heavenly Home and Parents. My sweet daughter will be reading her essay this weekend in Orlando at your TOFW. She lost her youngest, Evan, last summer and her 4 1/2 yr. old, Cameron, told her he wanted to take an elevator to heaven, to see Evan. Wouldn't that be just wonderful, that whenever we get homesick for heaven, we could just take an elevator.
Sometimes there just aren’t enough hours in the day to do all the things that need to be done.
That’s just one of the reasons I have been LOVING Sheri Dew’s new book. I sometimes don’t find the time to read everything I want to read; but I always seem to have time to read a quote. And the great thing about these quotes is that they seem to stick with me all day long.
But, back to busy women… Sheri is one of the busiest I know. And so, hopefully you’ll appreciate the fact that I barged into her office last Friday and just casually pulled out my little Flip camera for a casual little interview (unless an interview requires me to actually have talked…grin). I thought that might be a fun way to share this gem with you and/or your TOFW Book Club. If you can’t come to Sheri’s office, I thought I’d bring Sheri’s office to you!
What resulted is a fun little “behind the scenes” into SAYING IT LIKE IT IS. It was great to hear a little about several of the pictures in the book that were handpicked because of their special meaning to Sheri. I think it adds another dimension to the book and I hope you and/or your book club loves what they’ll learn.
And, of course, I couldn’t not tease Sheri about her desk (especially that drawer! How many of us have a drawer like that?). And I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that it’s SO FULL that there are papers that fall out the other side…happened a couple of times just a few weeks ago while we were meeting about something. And now that the world knows about it, I’m sure it will get cleaned out (or I’ll get cleaned out…I’m not sure which!)
This year my friends took me out to lunch for my birthday. The afternoon was filled with good conversation and laughter, and in a moment of pause one of my friends asked me to sum up what I had learned over the past year. It is amazing how quickly memories can flash through the mind, and I was surprised at how vivid they still were.
Simple things like the courage and serenity that only God can bring. The importance of stopping right now to say, “I love you,” “I’m proud of you,” and “I’m so glad you’re mine.” Moments when a heart is so overwhelmed with gratitude that one couldn’t possibly think of words to say. A time of quiet desperation when a prayer for strength led to the realization that angels are always standing near. Days when hope won out after others believed that the time for miracles had gone. A mother’s true sacrifice ––letting life pass by while she cherished that tiny one. Understanding that the power of discernment allows you to see the good. Knowing that giving everything can lead to exhaustion but also to miracles, and that tears of joy can fall at the same time as tears of pain.
To sum it all up I looked at my friend and replied, “This was a year of more.”
Looking back over all of those memories I suddenly realized, I have never learned more in one short year. I feel like I have never cried more. I’ve never laughed more, loved more, and it’s been a long time since I’ve grieved more. Looking back, I’m not sure if I’ve ever given more. It just had been one of those years.
And in those moments when I was not enough I found myself turning to the Savior. I don’t know how it happened, but every time I was in need He gave me more.
More hope, more faith, and more strength. He sent more miracles. And somehow, through it all, more love.
I don’t know when your birthday is, but if I could send one wish just for you it would be simply this…
More Thank you,
You've given me a worthy goal to work towards for my own up-coming birthday. I'd like to look back on a year where I can truly sum it up as you have.
Over the years, I have sung that song from “West Side Story”—“I feel pretty, oh so pretty!” and have laughed. I felt anything BUT pretty. I have spent my entire lifetime feeling unattractive.
To be truthful, I was somewhat taught that I was not pretty. I could share a litany of comments from various people in my life: “You’ll never be beautiful so work on your personality.” “Your friend is pretty and you are smart. That’s just the way it is.” And one of my personal favorites when I was considering serving a mission as a young adult: “You’re not ugly enough to go on a mission.” Ugly? Enough? Uh, OK . . . . .
So you can imagine how I felt when I was diagnosed with breast cancer and told that I had to have a mastectomy. You’ve GOT to be kidding me. Wasn’t I ugly enough? The thought of losing my hair, which I felt was my one saving grace, hit me. I shall never forget the day when I was on my prayer/walk and I realized that by the end of the month I would be bald. Bald. Ugly. Could I survive all this emotionally?
On that day I prayed to Heavenly Father and asked for a gift. I asked for the gift of healing of my feelings about my appearance. Now don’t worry, I’d been praying for complete healing for a while. But I knew this was not something I could survive very well emotionally on my own. And I was tired of feeling ugly for 50 years of my life. I wanted healing. And I knew the only way to get it was to get it from God. So I asked.
Now a strange thing began to happen. Day after day I felt prettier. I know that is very strange and hard to explain. It just did. I began to notice things about myself that I liked and were attractive.
And then came the day to face the mirror after my surgery. The bandages were off. And you know what, it was OK. It was different, but it was OK. I knew that I would have reconstruction eventually and it was fine. And look at my wonderful body! It was a miracle!
Next came the day when my hair was going. It was really falling out and I called my son and asked if he would come buzz it off. Sweet Brennan came home on his lunch hour. I buzzed his hair, and then he buzzed mine. As he was buzzing it, he commented, “It’s not every day you get to buzz off your mother’s hair!” All too true. When it was done, we took pictures and he said I now looked like one of the Boyack brothers (we have four sons who have had many “buzzes” in their lifetimes). I then went in the shower and shaved it all off to the skin.
And then came the time to face the mirror. And an amazing thing happened. I looked in that mirror and saw beauty. My eyes that I had always hated were shining. My skin was glowing. I had a good head! And a big smile. I realized that I was truly beautiful. Positively gorgeous.
I told my husband that I have felt more beautiful in the last two months than I have ever felt in my life. He laughed and said it must have been the hair!
But I know that something deeper has happened. God has healed my feelings about my appearance. I have finally been able to see myself as He sees me—a marvelous work of art. And the voices that I have carried in my head for decades have been completely silenced. It was a gift from Him –pure and simple.
I have learned a deep lesson. God creates beauty. It is that simple. And when He created me, He created a lovely, pretty, down-right-CUTE daughter. I have also realized that every single one of us is beautiful. Yeah, yeah, we have inner beauty. But I have discovered that every single one of us in all our shapes and sizes and ages and conditions, are truly beautiful on the outside. That was something I had not understood until now.
God creates beauty. God created me. And He did a good job.
deep lesson Hi Merrilee,
Your devotional struck a cord with me, not just the feelings of being unattractive, but Heavenly Father teaching you and letting you see your beauty and attractiveness. I had a similar experience where Heavenly Father taught me in a very powerful way that I was beautiful. I love learning from the spirit. Thank you for sharing your experience and reminding me of mine. Thank you for your love of the gospel and willingness to open up and share the things that are close to your heart.
With much love,
Toni
Bonnie said...
February 04, 2009
Your The Best Thank you for your comments. I so enjoy your messages that you give. I have enjoyed you at education week. I actually got my 20 year old son at the time come and here you speak. First time he actually admitted to liking education week. He is a Marine, so your stories of kicking Maries touche' really helped. I wish you all the best, and you are beautiful.
Thank you....................
Our shopping trip did not go well at all. My husband and I had taken our six-year-old son, Benji, along with us to the store, and, when he didn’t get his way, he threw a royal tantrum. We listened to - tried to ignore - him weeping the entire way home about what mean parents we were. All this because we said that evil word, “no.”
When we arrived home, Benji followed me into my room and crumbled into a heap on the floor in tears. I knelt down beside him and asked him what was wrong (as if I didn’t already know.)
His answer surprised me.
“I just don’t feel like a child of God!”
I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. I promised him that he was indeed a child of God and that both Heavenly Father and I loved him very much. We prayed together and asked Heavenly Father to let Benji know that he was his special child. That seemed to help and Benji was off to his next adventure.
I’ve thought of this experience frequently and have smiled at his dramatics. However, Benji was one hundred percent sincere. Our "no" had been translated into his not feeling loved by either his earthly parents or Heavenly Father.
I wonder how often that happens with us. Do we mistake a “no” or a “not right now” answer to our prayers as meaning we aren’t loved by the Father? Do you or I ever have those moments when we crumble and say in our hearts, “I just don’t feel like a child of God”?
I know that Father in Heaven loves each of us perfectly. He, like us as earthly parents with our own children, knows that we don’t “need” everything we ask for. His answers to our prayers, or even his silence, does not equate to how much we are loved. You and I are, and always will be, children of the Most High God. The answers we receive are what an all-knowing God knows is best for us. He communicates those answers precisely because he loves us.
If you are having one of those “I don’t feel like a child of God” moments, I promise you what I promised my sad little Benji. You are definitely God’s child and he loves you. I wish I could hold you and reassure you that you are infinitely loved by both the Father and the Son.
I invite you to kneel down and ask the Father in prayer to fill your heart with the knowledge that he loves you. He will send the peace and assurance you so desperately need. He loves you. You are his precious child.
Great to remember Thank you for your message. It is good to relate our spiritual knowledge to our everyday experiences. I do know that I am loved because Heavenly Father has already told me. That knowledge gets me through about anything. Thanks again.
Shalee said...
March 21, 2009
Thank you! Kris,
I can't tell you enough how much I loved your message at TOFW today in Orlando. I love you and thank you for your words today.
You are an amazing woman and I'm so thankful I was able to hear you today. You really helped me a lot. Thank you!!!
That’s Santa, and he’s speaking Cantonese again. He’s saying "good... it’s good!"
And it IS.
As we begin a brand new year, I’d like to propose something a little different about HO HO HO. For the purposes of this little message, I’d like it to stand for HOPE and OPTIMISM.
Maybe it can be a "code" we use for ourselves. We look in the mirror each morning (if we dare) and say to our self: "HO HO HO!" It’s a signal that life is good, and it’s going to be a good day. We’re going to do all we can to make it good.
I try to imagine you reading this. Yes, YOU. Has it been a hard year? I mean 2008, not the first few hours or days of this new year. Have there been some times of trouble? Have you felt some discouragement and frustration? Most have, because there’s a lot happening in this world which has had and continues to have huge effects on individuals, families, communities and nations.
So does it seem almost ridiculous for me to write a little message about HO HO HO? Some of you maybe haven’t even read this far, because it seems a topic way out of touch with what’s going on in your life, in your home, in your heart. Some of you have not had what you’d consider a good day in a long, long time.
But hold on a minute. Stay with mee. Hang in there. Let me see if I can explain this invitation for 2009 to be a year of HOPE and OPTIMISM.
Here’s something from Nephi (the first Nephi in The Book of Mormon) as he finishes his ministry and his contributions to this sacred book:
2 NEPHI 31:20 — Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men. Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life.
What a thought-provoking verse of scripture!. What an incredible promise!
One thing I like about it is the idea of pressing FORWARD. A new day, a new year, a new page of your life.
And Nephi attaches "a steadfastness in Christ" to that pressing forward idea.
Jesus has made so much possible for us, and Who better to count on, to lean on, to trust! He really IS our Savior, our Redeemer, our Advocate with our Heavenly Father.
Then Nephi adds the part about "having a perfect brightness of hope." Wow.
That’s not just your average hope, is it. He could have said "having hope," but ponder his description of the kind of hope that accompanies pressing forward with a steadfastness in Christ. A perfect brightness of hope! Wow again.
Then Nephi reminds us of the two great commandments: loving God and loving each other. Now the recipe is even better, because we’re about to find out what comes from the oven (so to speak) (did I lose you there?... hope not).
And we get to feast! We get to read, study, ponder and apply the words of Christ. Beautiful!
And we endure to the end. Not the end of 2009, not the end of a road or a task or a trial. We endure to the end of each day and each year, experience, and to the end of mortality.
And what comes out of the oven? ETERNAL LIFE! I wish I could express how I feel about that. I wish I could describe my feelings in some beautiful way.
Nephi is saying what Jesus wanted him to say — he’s instructing us in HO HO HO — in HOPE and OPTIMISM. He’s saying that if we "hang in there" (press forward, steadfastness in Christ, perfect brightness of hope, love for God and each other, feasting on the scriptures, enduring to the end), we will return HOME.
In spite of anything and everything which may be discouraging or frustrating, in spite of anything which causes you to feel lonely or overwhelmed . . . there is hope smiling brightly before us (from "We Thank Thee O God for a Prophet").
Doctrine and Covenants 68:6 — Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you . . . .
Many of you have read or heard about Anne Frank who hid from the Nazis with her family in a tiny place in a home in Amsterdam. They were in that cramped situation for 25 months! They had to remain completely silent from 8:30 am to 6:30 pm every day! Anne was an optimist. In her journal she described their hiding place as "a little piece of blue heaven, surrounded by heavy black rain clouds."
I suppose we can’t imagine what her circumstances were like, just as I probably can’t imagine what your circumstances are like. But I do know that HOPE and OPTIMISM are possible and that attitude is a choice.
We can create and enjoy "a little piece of blue heaven" even at times when we are "surrounded by heavy black rain clouds."
So I invite you to consider 2009 as a year of HOPE and OPTIMISM.
Hope, Hold On, Home! I prefer to remember Ho, Ho, Ho as "Hope, Hold On and Home" since I won't remember it if each word doesn't start with "H-O". I just wanted to thank you Mary Ellen, for sharing your thoughts through your seminars, tapes and books. I am part of a group of women who all struggle with various types of eating disorders. Your words and great sense of humor have been of great comfort to many of us over and over again! Happy New Year and Ho-Ho-Ho!
I have many wonderful Christmas memories and one not so wonderful Christmas memory. It was the year I spoiled the surprise. I couldn't help myself. It happened when I was about 17 years old. Everyone was gone so I had the house to myself. With Christmas only a few days away, the presents were piled high under the tree. I had looked to see if there were ample gifts with my name on the tag, and sure enough, there were plenty. As I passed by the tree, the gifts seemed to call, "Open me...open me!" What was a girl to do?
Well, I'll tell you what this girl did at least...I took every single present up to my room. I shut the door. Then I carefully removed the tape and wrap from each package and peeked inside.
An outfit from my mom.
Pajamas from my grandma. (Like that was a surprise.)
A new journal.
And a several other thoughtful, wonderful gifts.
After I finished re-wrapped the gifts, the guilt and regret set in. "Why? Why did I do that!? I just ruined Christmas! Now there would be no surprise Christmas morning!"
Let me tell you, it was not worth it. I have experienced other things that were "worth it" such as, eating that third piece of blueberry cobbler with ice cream. Now, that's worth it, but opening your presents two days before Christmas definitely was not.
Sometimes, now, I wish I knew what was ahead in life - if I could just see around the bend, even just a couple of days or weeks. Sometimes I would really like to know what the future holds. But I guess that would spoil the surprise. So, even when I'm feeling anxious about days to come I need to trust, not try to figure out or fret, I just need to wait and open the gift of each day, one at a time.
One Step Enough For Me Isn't that the truth! Who of us doesn't, at some time, wish to know the future and what it will bring; especially during trying times. I agree that we must take each day one at a time (I loved the "gift of each day" analogy). When I'm feeling anxious and impatient about the future, I remember the words to the hymn "Lead, Kindly Light" .... one step enough for me.
Katie said...
December 30, 2008
I agree. That is definitely the hard way to learn the Christmas lesson. I, too, peeked at my presents one year and it just wasn't the same. It's great that you can learn that lesson on life though. It's hard to be patient, but as we are, the Lord will bless us and lighten the pathway before us.
While cleaning up after a Time Out for Women conference, someone asked Jeff Clark, a vice president at Deseret Book who helps out with many of the events, if he had “given away his Book of Mormon yet.” I learned that Jeff usually has one or two on hand when he travels. When he meets someone who is not a member of the church and if he senses their interest, he offers them a copy. He related how uplifting it is to meet people and share that wonderful gift with them.
I felt inspired by his enthusiasm. So, as I prepared for a recent trip to South America with some BYU students, I took along a few copies of the Book of Mormon in Portuguese and Spanish.
Our group of travelers included a few women. During our stay in Rio de Janeiro, we were often swarmed with vendors, anxious to show us their wares. We saw custom made license plates, skirts, blouses, soccer shirts, blankets, jewelry, water bottle holders—you name it! One young man seemed to appear each time we entered or exited the bus outside our hotel, showing us colorful purses made out of zippers. He enthusiastically told us his name was “Alan,” and charmed us with his adolescent smile.
By the end of our three-day stay, we figured our group had bought over 20 of Alan’s inexpensive purses. We had furthered his economic development all right, but we also felt as if he had become our friend. I knew it was with him that I wanted to share my Portuguese copy of the Book of Mormon. Some in our group knew the language quite well, and they wrote a message to Alan, highlighting a few favorite scriptures.
I witnessed two feelings of joy when we offered him the book. The first was somewhat anticipated: the joy on Alan’s face when we presented it to him. Each of us wanted to tell him about the book, and we all began talking at once. This time we were the ones doing the swarming! I was certain poor Alan felt overwhelmed as we all chattered in a mixture of English, Spanish and Portuguese. He wore a big smile, however, as he tried to make sense of what we were attempting to say.
But it was when I took a step back from our little group of women to watch this somewhat amusing scene that I experienced an overwhelming feeling of joy. Joy in simply sharing the Book of Mormon. Joy in sharing something so precious, something we believed in and which had influenced our lives so greatly, a gift which had brought us such joy, that we couldn’t help but share. I remembered the promise, “. . . if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:15).
It had been a long time since I had given away a copy of the Book of Mormon. Through Jeff’s example and feeling such joy in sharing the book, I have vowed to watch for more opportunities to share this precious gift with others!
I'm not sure at what point it's appropriate to admit you have a criminal record. As a single girl, it's a quandry. Do I share it on the first date or on the 5th wedding anniversary? I'm not sure.
I got a little speeding ticket in the city last winter and was called in to court. I was given the option to sign an abeyance which allows you to keep the little traffic mishap off your record. In return for the court's kindness, you commit to not get another ticket in 6 months.
Apparently, when you sign an abeyance, they take it kind of seriously. And apparently if you violate that abeyance (i.e. if you get a ticket within 6 months after you committed not to), you have to officially appear before the judge.
I don't know what I was thinking...that it would be a casual gathering of citizens eating cookies and having punch? Shooting the breeze with the local elected judge? I walked into the courtroom and saw before my very eyes a few guys...in jail uniforms...with shackles...actual shackles. Standing next to them were two armed police officers.
I kind of wanted to whisper, "I'm sorry but I think I'm in the wrong place. I'm just the idiot who didn't pay attention to the speed limit. Where's the room for people like me?"
An older gentleman came and sat by me. He appeared to be down on his luck, but smiled and tried to make me feel comfortable.
Said he, "Well, I hope the judge is in a good mood."
"Is he sometimes not?"
"No."
"Should I be worried?"
"What are you in here for?"
(What am I "in here" for? Isn't that what you say to someone once they are officially in the slammer?)
The judge comes in and proceeds to explain the various classes of misdemeanors and then I hear him say that my class (class "B") can carry up to a maximum $1000 fine and/or 180 days in jail.
I look around to see if anyone else is freaked out by this news. No one is.
The judge begins with the guys in the shackles. And it's some serious stuff. One of the guys iis being sent back to jail. The other two have trial dates rescheduled. I couldn't help but ask "Where am I? How did I get here?!"
Then my older gentleman friend gets called up.
His story is so sad. He tells the judge he has a drinking job but pleads with the judge to not send him to jail..."I'm finally back on my feet. I can't lose my job."
He gets 60 days.
The officer walks up behind him and puts handcuffs on. My new friend is being polite and cooperative.
The judge reminds him he's been in and out of trouble and he needs to learn his lesson once and for all.
The officer took my friend over to the other "felons" and the old man sits down and starts to cry. It broke my heart and I really wanted to do something but then I realize that I'm still sitting here...I still have to talk to the judge myself.
My name is called and I'll be honest...my heart skips a beat.
I approach the podium. The judge asks if I understand my rights. He reads my charge and asks how I plead.
"Guilty, Your Honor." (WHAT? did those words actually just come out of my mouth? How did I end up here?)
"Is there anything you'd like to say to me before I impose your sentence?" he asks. ("impose my sentence? Where am I? What is this?" Jean Valjean and Les Mis songs start running through my mind.)
"Just that I am so desperately sorry and I can't believe I'm here."
"I'm sure you are. Most people standing where you're standing are."
He didn't know me. I didn't have time to be charming or funny. He didn't know anything about my crazy story and didn't care that I got my 2nd ticket driving to check out the Girls Camp location (I'm SO committed to my calling!). I was just standing there, guilty, in need of some mercy.
We always talk about the "final day of judgment" that will happen for each of us someday. And on that day there will be a final accounting of our lives. But, I have to tell you that my day in court made my "day of judgment" less about "some day" and more about "today".
It occurred to me as I stood there waiting for my fate to be determined that EVERY DAY I have the opportunity to kneel before my Maker, in the name of He who is worthy to be my Judge but who desires to be my Advocate. Through some miraculous way, He is able to be both. And when I say, "I can't believe I'm here and I'm so desperately sorry", He knows.
And when I kneel, having violated a law, no matter how small, I am in need of mercy. And always, always, always, mercy is extended.
In the only courtroom that really matters, mercy is extended by the Judge who is also our Advocate. And that is the miracle of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
(Oh, and just in case you were worried, I didn't spend a night in jail. Apparently the judge was in a good mood.)
