One Thing I Learned By Driving 6500 Miles in 7 Weeks

Between July 9 and September 1, I needed to drive over 6,500 miles. Honestly, that number could have been higher, but I opted to take a flight for one of the 2,000-mile roundtrip trips. So. Much. Traveling!

On all these trips, as you can imagine, innumerable road signs came into view. Yesterday, on another 800-mile drive, one jumped out at me.

KEEP RIGHT

This sign has many applications, beyond traffic. I can imagine my grandpa telling us it had political applications. (If you'd known my Grandpa Boyd, you'd understand.)

As a mom of five kids in decades where their decisions determine their destiny, I'm fervently praying my kids will KEEP RIGHT.

Life is a risk. Every day we have the chance to make choices. I have seen tiny errors in my life lead to need for massive correction. Attitudes need adjusting, I need humbling, etc. It's kind of hard to Keep Right sometimes, and if I didn't have the constant flow of daily scripture study, and weekly sacrament meetings, as well as the gentle (sometimes pointed) correction of the Holy Ghost, I'd be in even more dire straits.

But how? How can we do it? One way is to always remember our divine identity. I found this quote from Boyd K. Packer, another Boyd with a strong opinion on how we can KEEP RIGHT.

“You are a child of God. He is the father of your spirit. Spiritually you are of noble birth, the offspring of the King of Heaven. Fix that truth in your mind and hold to it. However many generations in your mortal ancestry, no matter what race or people you represent, the pedigree of your spirit can be written on a single line. You are a child of God!”4

If there's any other statement more powerfully effective in helping me KEEP RIGHT, I can't think of it. My identity as His child is the most important knowledge I have and the best incentive to strive, even when it's hard.

How Sunday Church is Like a Computer Systems Operation from the 1990s

When I was a new college graduate, I got a dream job of working as a staffer for the U.S. House of Representatives. My duties included answering phones, writing letters to constituents, and researching agriculture issues.

After a while, I was promoted to office manager. This mostly meant that I kept up with ordering the toner for the fax machine and printer, and calling the tech support line when one of the computers or phones went down. So glamorous.

Back in those days, computers were quite a bit slower. (I mean, the internet was new enough that there were no youtube videos, just randomly emailed viral videos like the very creepy Dancing Baby.)

When a computer in the office got unbearably slow, sometimes my duties involved performing a “defrag,” or defragmentation on it. I’d go to the control panel and run the system defrag, which took all the little bits of scattered data throughout the system and re-ordered it. Instead of being all over the place, the operation set the data into neat rows, freeing up empty space, getting rid of “bad sectors” and making everything neat and tidy. After a defrag, the computer always ran much more smoothly.

Watching the little video of the defrag in process was very satisfying. It felt like chaos was being trounced, and order reigned.

I was thinking of this on Friday night when I attended the temple. Going there, feeling the sweet, calm spirit of that building, getting away from the cares and struggles that had perplexed me all week, I realized the chaos I’d been facing due to a (minor) health challenge, as well as some residual stress from a (good but tough) family situation, seemed to be placed in order.

In fact, I felt just like the Lord was providing a defrag for my inner soul.

This is often how I feel on Sundays at church. I can take the sacrament, review my week, put my heart and mind and priorities in order. I can take stock of what I left undone, and what I need to do better. I often will be prompted during that time as to how I can serve my neighbors or my family. It’s a good, good time. I need it. I need it every single week. My system runs more smoothly. Feeling it happen is very satisfying. I don’t know how I could deal with life’s chaos if I didn’t have the regular defrag going to church and the temple provides.

So, I guess what I'd say is that if you haven't tried it or haven't tried it lately, I highly recommend regular church attendance. It’s a rest and a way to find peace for the soul.

Hard Times and Healing and Being Grateful For Trials

Sometimes we have a season of testing. I took a notable long break from adding to this blog while I went through the fires of testing during the balance of 2016. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only soul who found last year to be particularly trying.


However, throughout all the months of struggle, which initially left me feeling wounded and weak, I was able to turn to the One Source of healing: our Savior Jesus Christ. I have learned in my extremity about His immense power to heal and to make us whole.


Often, I have heard people tell me to be grateful for trials. This idea? Pretty tough. It's even tougher when we're reminded to be not only grateful *for* the trial, but also *in* the trial. Yeah, I'm not master of that at this time. (Which likely means I need quite a lot more testing, alas. Buckling up for the ride to continue.)


I have, for certain, however, become grateful for the growth that has come out of the harrowing up of my soul.


When I was a kid, I lived on a farm in Idaho. There were a lot of farm implements my dad pulled behind his John Deere tractor--balers, swathers, discs, and the scariest one: the harrow. Another name for it was "the ripper." It had a long line of curved blades on it, each tipped with an arrow shaped knife. The blades lowered into the soil, and then the tractor dragged it across the packed ground, making the area ready to plant.


When the scriptures say stuff with the term "harrow" it's often in terms of "harrowed up my soul." I'd always just thought of that in terms of pain. Ripped up my soul. Ouch, right? Just left me in a pile of tumbled dirt clods. Clumps. Messy. But I never really considered that as a situation that prepared the soul for planting of good seeds, a necessary step in the long process of the harvest of our souls, making us fruitful.


I love the Lord for His long-term plan for me and for each of us. I'm glad He lets me be a work in progress.

We Talk of Christ

As I was reading this week, I found this scripture that Nephi wrote. It's found in 2 Ne 25:26.


 26 And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.


I have always loved that scripture, but it hit me with force this time. Is this how things are in my home? Am I speaking with enthusiasm and joy about Christ to my children? I know I talk about church, we read scriptures together, we do family home evening lessons on Monday nights, but is Christ often a topic of conversation? Am I rejoicing in Christ so that my children can hear it? I know I will call my mom and dad and tell them about miracles in my life or blessings I know have come from the Savior, but do I tell my children?


If so, is it often enough?


I want all these answers to be a resounding yes.

Reading Between the Lines, Opening the Books and Opening our Souls

Today as I was reading some chapters in Isaiah, after a very stressful few weeks, I found the message that seemed to seep into my heart to detox from all the stress I've been feeling was that I needed to spend some time outside, to look at the sky and at God's beautiful creation, and also that I should bring some order to my home.


These brought me peace, as reading the scriptures frequently does, and as I followed the inspiration things in my life felt much healthier, for lack of a better word.


However, after a while, I decided to go back and look at the verses that had inspired me, and there's really nothing about the beauties of nature, nothing about bringing order to my home, nothing about any of that.


All I can think is that the Holy Ghost prompted my mind to see things that weren't really there, things that could bring me peace and healing, showed me between the lines.


I think reading the scriptures, whether the very printed words answer our deepest concerns or not, opens us up to the inspiration we need in our lives.


So, I guess it could be a couplet, of sorts:


OPEN THE SCRIPTURES and
OPEN YOUR SOUL TO DIRECTION FROM GOD.

Marriage Blessing

I have been reading the Book of Mormon, with a goal to read the entire thing from start to finish again, as part of my Personal Progress goals as a Young Women leader.


Lately, I had been thinking about what a blessing my husband is to me. He really steadies me when my boat rocks. He gives me good counsel when I need it. He is the calm in my storm. He lets me help him too, and I see us as a good team. We're not much alike, but we like each other. That's a gift.


As I read the Book of 1 Nephi, Nephi mentions the day he is married. These are his words.


7 And it came to pass that I, Nephi, took one of the daughters of Ishmael to wife; and also, my brethren took of the daughters of Ishmael to wife; and also Zoram took the eldest daughter of Ishmael to wife.

 8 And thus my father had fulfilled all the commandments of the Lord which had been given unto him. And also, I, Nephi, had been blessed of the Lord exceedingly.

I love that he considers his marriage to be a gift from God, and that by it he has been "blessed of the Lord exceedingly."

This is my sentiment. I hope and pray my own children will find their own blessed marriage someday when their time is right. A happy marriage is something beautiful, and while no marriage is perfect, the goal can be to approximate the ideal--even as imperfect individuals--and look on the gift of marriage as being blessed of the Lord exceedingly.

He Only Said It Would Be Worth It

Okay, there are varying opinions on the adage, "I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it," a quote attributed to the Savior. Which I can never find in the scriptures. However, yes, it has given strength to those who are enduring hard times, so I'm not going to say this is saying has no value. Clearly, it does. Even if it's not actually based in scripture.


Meanwhile, there is a different scripture where the prophet Isaiah talks about something being "worth it." And it isn't referring to us. It's referring to the sacrifice that the Savior made for us.


It is in Isaiah 53: 4-6 and verses 10-11.


4 ¶Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.

 5 But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

 6 All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.

...

10 ¶Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.

 11 He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied.

In the past I have focused on the pain, the grief, the affliction that the Savior endured. For me. And I have felt terrible about it. As I should. And grateful, so deeply grateful that He would love me enough and be devoted to the Father enough to make this infinite sacrifice.

However, on a recent reading of these verses, I found myself focusing on the second part: the part where He says that it pleased Him.

What? It pleased Him? This just stops me in my tracks. But read on. When I make His soul an offering for my sin...He shall see his seed.

In other words, when I actually make His sacrifice efficacious by repenting, by taking the proffered gift of forgiveness, of being made pure and holy once again by His divine power, then He shall see the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied.

So instead of always thinking how sad it is that I've made things worse for the Savior by my bad behavior, I should realize, the Atonement is done. It is, as He said, finished. And now, MY work is to make it WORTH IT for Him by ACCEPTING His unspeakably sacred and generous and soul-wrenching gift... by repenting.

For that is what pleases the Lord.

Why God Will ALWAYS Give Us More Than We Can Handle -- According to a 16 Year Old

I love my current assignment in church. I get to work with the young women, and they are a constant source of entertainment, information, and inspiration. Okay, and quite often stress, let's be honest. But I'm focusing on the awesomeness--because there's really a lot of that. Especially what happened on Sunday.


So. On Sunday we were having a lesson on patience during our class. And this new girl, who is a super attractive 16 year old who maybe if you saw her you'd think she didn't have a care in the world. (Which is what we do as humans. Especially female humans. We think attractive people have no problems.)


But she said, "I've had hard things in my life. But the thing I hate is when someone says, 'God will never give you more than you can handle. Because that is just untrue. Completely wrong.'"


And in my head I'm thinking of the scripture in Timothy that says we will never be tempted beyond what we can bear and thinking that in my mind maybe I often confuse those two concepts. Tempted beyond what we can handle isn't the same as tried beyond what we can handle.


So, Miss Gorgeous went on. "Of course God gives us more than we can handle. If we never got more than we could handle, we'd never grow. We'd just get stuff we could handle and move on. No biggie. The thing to remember is that He will never give us more than HE can handle. And then we depend on Him to carry us through it, and then, with His help, we can handle it."


I love that.
So true.


From the mouths of hot babes.

A Commandment I COMPLETELY Missed the Memo On

Yesterday the most fabulous thing happened.

For the past six or eight months, I’ve had a specific worry that has been weighing on my mind and heart. It was a situation that could very much affect my family, and that could potentially cause serious problems.

I’ve spent hours and hours on my knees trying to figure out solutions, begging for insight, making plans to combat this problem.

Finally, about two months ago, I just gave it to God. I’d done everything I could, physically, spiritually, emotionally to make this right. At that point, I just put it in the Lord’s hands, asking him to let my soul rest, to let the right thing work out. If the trial had to be, it had to be, and I would just trust Him to carry us through. It had to be enough. And I placed my faith in Him, that he would bless and protect us.

Along the way, there were little blips of help—things that reminded me He was aware of me, that He cared, and that He was still watching, even though there was no real solution as of yet. Those gave me courage and bolstered my faith.

Yesterday, the situation finally resolved. At last! And the news was good! And the threat has passed, and God is just so good to me. I feel everything lighter as the storm clouds pass away over the horizon. Last night, as I climbed into bed, I told my husband I was afraid I was a little like Memory Foam. That after a long time of pressure, I might not spring back immediately. There might be a bit of time to puff back out to my real shape, but that I could already feel the expansion as the pressure had lifted. Hallelujah.

This morning, as I studied the scriptures, I was pondering on the word “Thanks.” Of course! I looked it up in the topical guide and began going through the scriptures one by one, until one hit me—hard. And it wasn’t the thanks portion of it.

2 Nephi 9:52

Behold, my beloved brethren, remember the words of your God; pray unto him continually by day, and give thanks unto his holy name by night. Let your hearts rejoice.

The remember and the prayer and the thanks parts, I expected. However, it was the verb that starts the final phrase that arrested me.

 

Let your hearts rejoice.

 

Now, I’ve seen that phrase a lot of times in the scriptures. We all have, I know. It’s just there, all the time. For me it almost blends into the background. But…

Today I realized it starts with “let.” And that it can have a couple of meanings.
The first meaning that hit me was taking the word “let” in the meaning “allow.” I need to allow my heart to rejoice.

How many times do good things come to me, and I say, “Wow! That’s great. Now I can really focus on this other problem or weakness.” Or how many times do I think, “Whew. That’s nice. And now if I just didn’t have this other thing, I’d be almost there.”

Ugh! That’s starting to rejoice… and then instantly pulling back. It’s stopping myself from feeling the full joy of the moment, of the blessing.

The second thing I noticed about “let” was that it makes the whole sentence in command form. Let your hearts rejoice. It’s a command. It’s important enough for us to rejoice that the Lord’s words are not a suggestion, “Maybe you should rejoice.” Or “Think about rejoicing, but then move on pretty quick to trying to improve yourself in other ways.” Nope. It’s a command to take the time to rejoice. To fully feel the joy of the blessing He has afforded us.

And so, with that little slap in the face, er, reminder, I am just going to say that today, I am SO HAPPY! I will take the time to fully rejoice, to fully feel the gratitude and goodness of my God, of His love, of His blessing and care and mercy.

And then I am going to think about the other ways, not just this specific thing He’s given me, but the other things He blesses me with so much that they too kind of fade into the background, and LET myself feel joy for them too.

Because “Men are that they might have joy.”

I am going to LET myself have joy today.

A Little Mother's Day Consolation Post

Some of you have already been accosted with my previous thoughts on motherhood. The one about the seeds and the dirt? Well, anyway, here's a second consolatory thought for all of us who suspect that we just might stink at motherhood.




A couple of years ago I was asked to speak in church on Mother's Day. I called my dad, asking what to say. He always knows what to say. And this time was no different. Here's his story.


"One Mother's Day in Grandma and Grandpa's ward, your uncle's teenage friend was asked to offer the closing prayer after the Mother's Day Sunday meeting. Lots and lots of laudatory things had been said about the speakers' 'Angel Mothers' and so forth. Your uncle's friend approached the microphone, bowed his head, and said,  'We're thankful for our mothers. Please bless all those mothers here who aren't as good as the ones we've heard about today that they won't feel bad.'"


Amen, brother.


I don't know about you all, but as much as I love Mother's Day for the opportunity to think about and praise my own mother, going the other direction generationally is a bit more anxiety-inducing. It's all about misgivings and worries and wishing-I-could've dones. And yet, ...


There's a scripture I turn to in those times. Isaiah 40:11.


11 He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young.


He shall gently lead mothers. I have to hang my hopes on that gentle leading. And I know it's true. Who among us insecure mothers hasn't felt it many times?


Like that impression you get to go look at the 2 year-old's feet. At 3:00 a.m. And there's a scorpion there that you kill (get your husband to kill) before it strikes.


Or the time when the 3 year-old and her friend pick all the fruit off the experimental trees in the greenhouse and cut holes in your brand new duvet cover (that you waited six years to get) and eat the centers out of all the chocolate pies for Thanksgiving and it's your birthday...and all you can do is laugh and decide to not let that friend come and play again. Ever. And you know the only reason you didn't turn into a shrieking banshee is the Spirit showed you the humor in the situation.


Or when the 7 year-old runs away at an outdoor festival in the desert and you can't find her for 20 minutes and you're about to freak out and need a straight jacket and something (the Spirit, obviously) just tells you to get it together. It's going to be fine, and then after another 20 minutes, it is.


And the six thousand other things that motherhood is about that you couldn't of your own power have dealt with. Because on our own, we're just not good enough. And we feel bad about it. Because we know it so deeply. Which is what makes Mother's Day hard. We know intuitively that very little if any of the good we affect comes of our own goodness.


So, to all of us imperfect mothers, Happy Mother's Day. And thank Heaven for the gentle leading as we go.

What is a Testimony, Really?

The other day I was looking up the word "tabernacle" in the Bible Dictionary. It was basically a mobile temple used while the Children of Israel wandered 40 years on the wilderness before entering the promised land.


A lot of the description of the tabernacle had to do with the length of the poles that held up the fancy curtains and what kinds of wood were used in the construction. It was a condensed version of what it says in Deuteronomy.


I skimmed.


But then my eyes landed on this part that talks about what was kept in the holiest place of the tabernacle. It was the Ark of the Covenant.


Now, we've all heard of this thing, if we've watched Indiana Jones do his thing. And we've probably all heard the story of what happened to Uzziah when he reached up to steady it when the oxen tripped while dragging the ark. Zap. But what was really inside the ark (a.k.a., very nice wooden box)?


According to the scriptures, within the ark were the stone tablets upon which the finger of God had written the commandments when He gave them to Moses on Mount Sinai. The Israelites kept these in the most sacred place they had while living in camping conditions for decades: the ark.


But what stopped me cold was the alternate name for the ark: The Ark of the Testimony.


All of a sudden, this idea poured into my head, that a testimony is something where the hand of God has written something indelible--such as these plates of stone. And that my testimony is the collection of things that God has written upon the tables of my heart, never to be removed.


I do have a testimony. God's hand has written many things on my heart over the 40+ years I have been a sojourner on this earth. He can write better when my heart is fleshy than when it is stony. He can write more when I come to Him. He can write more when I humble myself and seek to share His love and search out the One.


It's incredible that each of us can have this writing on our souls. God is so good.