Unlocking the Fullness of Life

One hot afternoon last fall Gary and I took the kids up the mountain to escape the heat. (Arizona can get pretty hot. Glad we have a mountain to go to every so often for a reprieve.) At the time, I’d been struggling with some worries, mostly financial. I won’t go into it because now those worries seem petty. What I needed was an awakening, and as the kids swung on a rope swing over a ravine and I watched some shiny beetles traverse their own mountains of pine tree roots, it felt like I got an awakening.

 

We were talking about how nice it was to be somewhere on a perfect day. Mid-seventies, no humidity, cool breeze, happy kids, chicken salad sandwiches with “the good mayonnaise” for lunch. It occurred to me that we live a good life—a very good life. Truth be told, nearly all of us live better than any kings or queens in ages gone by have ever lived. After all what do we have?

 

Hot and cold running water – we can take a daily bath not in a metal can

Comfortable beds – without bugs or scratchy straw in them, but Memory Foam (!) instead

Washing machines – no dirty streams to wash clothes in

Air. Conditioning. – (enough said)

Cars – not horses or horse manure for our sole transportation

TV – not some weird court jester or traveling bard. We can change the channel, folks.

Good food we can microwave, and fresh fruits and vegetables all year round

 

The list goes on and on and on. And most people of every economic level in this country enjoy this modern life's bounties to some degree or other. Our lives are good. Really good. Add to this life expectancy, health care, dental care, education, a time of peace rather than war, no invading Mongols, and cold cereal for breakfast and snacks—it’s a recipe for supreme happiness.

 

But it’s human nature to make comparisons, and it seems to me that making comparisons can be the root of unhappiness – meaning, of course, comparisons that put ourselves in the lesser position. There’s always someone with a bigger house, a newer car, a bigger TV screen. And when I focus on something like that, all my blessings diminish in my mind.

 

So as I sat there watching the beetle climb, it hit me: there is only one difference between happiness and unhappiness in life: gratitude. I can focus on what I’ve been blessed with and be happy, or I can focus on what I think I don’t have and be sad. Period.

 

I recently came across this quote (on brainyquote.com, thank you to that site). I don’t know the woman, Melody Beattie, to whom it is attributed. But she said this:

 

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.

It turns what we have into enough, and more.

It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity.

It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.

 

I love this. I needed a big dose of this. And on days when I forget (which I do, dang it, like today, which is why I wrote this today, because those worries are hitting me again as I pay taxes and bills and wonder and worry and stew. I’m like that beetle, struggling over that pine tree’s root over and over), I need a booster shot. And so I’m going to challenge myself today to do what the song says, and “count my many blessings, name them one by one.” I believe it will surprise me what the Lord has done in giving me the fullness of life.

Heavenly Help for Those Sleepless Nights

Do you ever have those days (or sleepless nights) when memories of stupid things you’ve said or done come flying back at you and pain you like scorpion stings? It doesn’t even have to be major mistakes—because even just the faux pas of social interaction can cause the soul to cringe and shrink.

 

I happen to have a lot of these. In fact, I’d venture to guess that because I’m both a talk-a-holic and a bit impulsive, I have maybe more than anyone else. Oh, maybe pride tells me that. Or maybe because on those nights when I can’t sleep and memories of these idiotic things fill my mind in a seemingly endless parade of painful recollection, I can’t imagine anyone could have more, and if they did, they’d have my sincerest compassion.

 

Like the time I called the CEO of one of the largest employers in the state of Utah “Captain Micron” --to his face. Or the time I fake-hyperventilated when I got pulled over for speeding. Or… No. I’ll save you the pain. And besides. This is a blog, not an epic novel. And these are just the mildest of the mild. (Note: This is one big reason why I’m a novelist. Because then I get to spread all my thousands of most embarrassing moments over scores of characters, instead of centralizing them all in one person. They’re more believable that way.)

 

So, anyway, these and so many, many, many others come back to me and make me feel like a total, blithering idiot. Frequently. I get thoughts like, “How could any one person be so dumb?” Or worse self-worth destroying thoughts as the faux pas progress into serious mistakes that might really have hurt someone but it’s far too late to know how to repair them.

 

The other day I was reading in Exodus, the part where the “fiery flying serpents” attacked the Israelites while they were still during their 40-year wander. It says that lots and lots of people died from these. But then it says that Moses went to the Lord and asked what to do to heal the people, and God told him to make a serpent’s likeness. Moses held it up, and all the suffering people had to do was to look at it and they’d be healed. Many did. But many didn’t. Because they didn’t believe it would work. Because it was too easy. And instead they suffered and writhed and died.

 

Of course this is a symbol of the loving grace of Jesus Christ, his suffering in behalf of our sins. All my life I’ve heard this story and wanted to think I was someone who would look to God and live, repent rather than suffer.

 

However, the other day, as I was thinking back on some negative experiences in my past, things that gave me those “scorpion sting” memories, I ached to not recall them with pain. Many of them should simply be “lessons learned,” things I could look at dispassionately as part of a less mature version of myself who could take that experience and grow. I mean, it’s not like I look back at myself learning to ride a bike and feel so sorry and bad about myself for crashing a few (a lot of) times and gouging up my knees and elbows in the process. Those memories don’t cause emotional anguish, no. Why should social things I had to learn by (sad) experience? Maybe they shouldn’t.

 

Maybe…maybe I didn’t have to suffer them. Maybe I didn’t have to have those sleepless nights be plagued.

 

Maybe the solution was much more simple than I’d realized. And it had been there all along. And I simply hadn’t taken advantage of it. And I could just look to God and live. Stop dying over these dumb little (or big) things.

 

Let Him heal me.

 

Because the atonement of Jesus Christ is big enough. It’s big enough for the huge sins. It’s big enough for the tiny stings that we inflict on ourselves and others. It can heal those we hurt. It can heal those who hurt (including us!)

 

Including me.

How to Be Infused With Christlike Love--A 5 Step Pattern

This morning I had occasion to study about love. I have just received a new assignment at church, one where I have responsibility for teaching and nurturing a lot of young people. It's a daunting challenge, and one I feel like I need to really humble myself to be able to accomplish in any pleasing fashion.


The one key that keeps coming to my mind is "love." Of course. Of course.


As I searched the scriptures to find how to get more of that vital quality, I kept finding a clear pattern, and although it makes perfect sense, I was just shaking my head at myself for never seeing it so obviously before. Maybe everyone who ever reads this already knows these things, and if so, apologies, just feel good about yourself and pity my obtuseness. However, it felt like an epiphany to me, and so I'm going to point it out, if only for my own benefit in outlining it concisely.


First off: here's one of the scriptures that led me to this pattern. Moroni 8:25-26:


25 And the first fruits of ^arepentance is ^bbaptism; and baptism cometh by faith unto the fulfilling the commandments; and the fulfilling the commandments bringeth ^cremission of sins;

 26 And the remission of sins bringeth ^ameekness, and lowliness of heart; and because of meekness and lowliness of heart cometh the visitation of the ^bHoly Ghost, which ^cComforter ^dfilleth with hope and perfect ^elove, which love endureth by ^fdiligence unto ^gprayer, until the end shall come, when all the ^hsaints shall dwell with God.

Repent (and be baptized) 

Which brings a remission of sins

Which makes us meek and lowly

Which brings the Holy Ghost

Which fills us with love

I like how it also says we can "endure in this love" by earnest prayer. And that we should. And we can.

And so basically, if I want to love more, I need to repent more.

This is something, now that I'm remembering experiences in my life, I know to be true.

I remember a few years ago, I had something I wanted to be forgiven of. As I was going through the repentance process, I felt a strong impression that there was something standing in my way: a grudge. Months (maybe years) before, a group of people had done something publicly that really wounded me and my family. I still felt the pain of that, and harbored bad feelings. (Like, if I saw one guy walking across the street, I sometimes considered running over him. Yeah, I'm a small person, I know it.) But as I sought forgiveness for my own wrongs, I knew I needed to forgive. It took time and effort and bucketloads of grace, but that thorn did come loose from my soul.

And what I was left with was a miracle, because, instead of that want-to-smash-people feeling, all I could feel after that experience of repentance and forgiveness, was a strong feeling that "This relief of being forgiven is so great, I would never, ever want to deny it to anyone."

And for me, that was charity. True love.

So, now that I think about it, I know that this is true. Remission of sins does indeed fill the soul with love.