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.

Forgiving the Past

A friend posted a plea on Facebook, "We never know when someone we're upset with is going to leave this life and we will miss a chance to reconcile. Let's forgive. Let's be kind."

This week I finished reading Elizabeth Smart's newest book about hope, healing, and moving on. She had a whole chapter on forgiveness. (ELIZABETH SMART was talking about forgiveness, people. Consider that.)

A couple of great sections stuck out to me. One was a Martin Luther King, Jr., saying, along the lines of, "When we remember that there's a little good in the worst of a us and a little evil in the best of us, it makes it a lot easier to forgive our enemies." Most of us fall somewhere in the middle of that. Deal with it.

The second thought struck me even more deeply. From someone whose family had all been killed by a young drunk driver, she came to the conclusion that one definition of forgiveness is simply accepting that the past is imperfect, and that is never going to change, and so what? Accept that fact and move on. Recognize that it happened, it was broken, and just move into the future. The past doesn't have to control the present. We don't have to allow it to.

That said, forgiving doesn't mean necessarily embracing those whose actions damaged us, inviting them into our homes. Even though God loves all His children, He isn't going to let all of them live with Him.

Lately I've been looking for ways to "let it go" (no "Frozen"-song cueing intended, I promise) with regards to some past wounds. These concepts from Elizabeth's book feel so helpful to me. So let's forgive. Let's be kind.

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.

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.

The Chosen Ones (and How To Be One)

As a writer and a reader, I love the "chosen one" stories as much as the next guy. Harry Potter? The chosen one. Luke Skywalker, Annakin too, chosen. Leven Thumps, chosen. The list goes on.


I think these themes resonate with us because we all secretly wish we were the chosen one, special, set apart, meant for higher things than groveling in the lowlands of oppression.


Over the millennia of recorded history, there has been that same theme, and we find it in the Old Testament. Joseph of Egypt was chosen. So was Moses. Chosen to deliver their people.


But what if they hadn't heeded the call to be chosen? What if they'd ignored it, done nothing, refused to obey the call. Would they still be chosen? Not exactly.


So, am I chosen? Are you? Who is?


I have wondered this from time to time. I think there was some annoyance from the surrounding tribes when the People of Israel showed up saying they were the Chosen People. It might incite animosity--possibly (likely) based on jealousy. Chosen of God. Wow. That's a big claim.


But how does it originate? What about those questions posed above, the ones about those who refuse the call? And if someone is chosen, does that mean they're better/more loved/the favorite child/more important? Does this even mean God could be unfair to some of His children?


I found a scripture that seems to answer that question. It comes from 1 Nephi 17:35 in the Book of Mormon.


 35 Behold, the Lord esteemeth all flesh in one; he that is righteous is favored of God. But behold, this people had rejected every word of God, and they were ripe in iniquity; and the fulness of the wrath of God was upon them; and the Lord did curse the land against them, and bless it unto our fathers; yea, he did curse it against them unto their destruction, and he did bless it unto our fathers unto their obtaining power over it.


Clarity! God loves us all the same. The way to be chosen? It's for US to choose HIM.


That turns the whole concept on its ear for me.


To be chosen, all I need to do is choose His ways, be reliable, be a daughter He can count on to do what He needs done with the capacity He has given me.


What a gracious, fair, praiseworthy God we have.

The End Result of All this Commandment Stuff

In July I was asked to speak in church. It's one of the big, scary things about being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints: we have no paid ministry, and the lay members of the church have the "opportunity" to speak in front of the congregation from time to time. Seeing the bishop's number on your caller ID can strike fear in the heart.


Well, my turn rolled around again. This time, the topic was charity.


Sure, I thought. Charity. That's really a nice topic. It's love. I love love. I think about love all the time.
But as I studied, I realized that charity was so, so much more than just plain love.


I'm not going to copy and paste my entire talk into this blog wholesale. (You're welcome.) Instead, I'm going to just note one scripture that I found. I'd been trying to dig around in the scriptures and find out just what a person can do to develop charity (because if you've done much reading on the subject, you know that "without charity" man is "nothing." And that's in there frequently enough to give you a little bit of a scare, if you start to think about it very much.) So, how do I get it?


I Timothy 1:5
 5 Now the end of the commandment is charity out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of faith unfeigned:


Mainly, the first phrase is what struck me. That "the END of the commandment is charity." I think it's meaning the end result. And I think the word commandment might be singular to sound poetic. So, my interpretation of this is that the end result of my obedience to God's commandments is the development of charity in my soul.


Well, that...sounded interesting. So I started delineating a few commandments as I put it to the test.


For instance, the commandment to forgive. Yes, obviously! If I forgive, it's my way of thinking that Christ's atonement and love are BIG ENOUGH for EVERYONE, and that there isn't anyone I'd deny that great love to. (And the corollary of this, is that when I do not forgive, it's my way of saying to the Lord, sure. Forgive me because I deserve it. But that guy? He's doesn't. The Atonement isn't big enough for THAT guy. Uh, that doesn't sound good when I put it that way, right?) Anyway, the end result of forgiving others is, voila, charity.


But what about fasting? We have a commandment to fast. (See Isaiah 58 if you want an incredibly beautiful treatise on fasting. Ahhh, it fills me.) When we fast, we also donate the amount of money we would have spent on food that we fasted from to the bishop so he can use it to bless the poor. That's developing self control, giving of ourselves, sacrifice, and loving others more than we love our own passions. Charity.


Extrapolate this with commandment after commandment. It holds up.


And so, I guess the point is, if we want to measure up with charity at the last day and have things be "well with us," to paraphrase Moroni 7:47, a great place to start is by ramping up our obedience to the commandments of God. For all commandments are, if we look closely, attributes of God, the greatest of all being LOVE.


I love how cohesive the scriptures are. How beautiful and rich is the doctrine of God.

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.

How Should I Approach Prayer?

The Savior Jesus Christ visited the American continent after his death and resurrection. He taught them and blessed them and organized His church among them. The incident is recounted in the Book of Mormon, my favorite book. I love the Bible too and the stories of Christ's life in Jerusalem while He lived His perfect life of service on the Earth.




At the end of the first day of His teaching of the people in the New World, He told them He was going to leave, but that He would come again on the morrow, so please go gather up all their friends who hadn't been there that day.




However, then a miracle occurred--even beyond what miracle they'd experienced already. When He announced this, they looked on Him with tears in their eyes, as if they would ask him to stay.


They didn't have to say anything. He knew the desires of their hearts.




And because of the desire of their hearts, he said, in great love, that they could bring to Him their sick and afflicted, and that He would do for them what He'd done for their brethren in Jerusalem: heal them.




As I read this a few days ago, I thought about this, and several things struck me. One, that the Lord truly saw and knew the deep desires of their hearts. Two, that their eyes were trained on Him, and filled with emotion.




I wondered to myself, would that be a better way to approach my prayers? To (mentally/spiritually) train my eyes on Him, and then express my deepest desire to be healed, and for my loved ones to be healed physically and spiritually?




Maybe so. And I have a lot to learn about the true nature of prayer, it would seem.

On a morning quite a while ago, I was freaking out.


There were a lot of things going wrong with stuff I thought I'd had organized and squared away totally. But all my best-laid plans had gone awry. It was stuff I was doing for Church, and I was feeling pretty alone in my efforts, despite great support from my husband and some other people I serve with.


Still, the struggle persisted, and stuff had to be done and fixed and I was truly discouraged. I spent quite a bit of time on my knees. Should I admit that I was in tears too? I guess I will. Maybe it's good to tell people that I cry about stuff? I don't know. But there it is: I was crying. Probably ugly-crying (which is *obviously* why I had unexpected company show up in the midst of that morning. Luckily they only stayed a few minutes.)


Finally, I decided that I was going to do what I felt I should do in asking for help, and that I'd begged the Lord to help me with. Not knowing if what I was doing was right, or whether it was just a product of my own frenzied mind, I muscled through the fog of indecision and discouragement.


Within just a few minutes, like seriously, fifteen minutes, the situation resolved--to my huge relief and satisfaction and gratitude.


Later that morning I came across this scripture and it pierced me. I know it's true:


2 Peter 3:9


 9 The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward.


The Lord was so longsuffering with me. So kind. So gentle and helpful and generous in giving me what I needed as I was trying to serve. He'd promised to help me and guide me as I try to serve, and on this morning, He surely had not been slack concerning His promise.


He never is. He is true. He is unchanging. He is love. We can trust the goodness of our great God.

When You Have to Say No

Quite a few years ago, my husband was asked to serve in a certain position in the Church. His family has always taught him, just as mine has taught me, that when the Lord asks, the answer is yes.


However, in this case, there were some real complications to saying yes. Without going into detail, there were phone calls made to higher ups in the state as well as in the Church, and ultimately, my husband had to say no, he wouldn't be able to serve.


(Strangely to some, I'm sure) this was kind of a trial. Part of me wanted to know why the Lord wouldn't just let the issuers of the invitation know that my husband wasn't going to be able to do it and inspire them to move on to another man instead.


I thought about it for a long time.


It also made me reflect on something that had happened a couple years before that. I'd been serving as the president of an organization. At the time that organization seemed very difficult to staff with leaders. As president it was my responsibility to seek spiritual guidance and make recommendations on who might be right to serve with me. However, it seemed like my recommendations were regularly rejected. But I'd been so certain! I started wondering if I even had any right to inspiration or if I was just a total dud.


These two situations I juggled mentally for a long time. Finally, I talked with someone who suggested a completely different idea to me. He said,


Sometimes the Lord will inspire a leader to ask someone to serve, not because that person will ultimately fill the position, but so that the person being asked will know that the Lord considers them *worthy* to serve in that capacity. It is a confirmation to them that God loves them.


Huh. This put a new spin on things for me entirely. I reflected again on the many names I'd tendered to the bishop years before asking for help in my organization that were ultimately not selected. And I realized that the Lord hadn't given me bad information, and that He hadn't either left me high and dry. And that my spiritual guidance detector hadn't necessarily been broken. (Frankly, that was my greatest fear.)


And so, I realized too that this may relate to young men and women who have been out serving as missionaries and for one reason or another have come home before the originally planned time period, despite their worthiness and willingness to serve.


But I think it's good to recall that life is more of a "to be" list than a "to do" list. And the "to be" in all these cases comes down to those two "W" words: Willing and Worthy.


So, I guess those two "W" words are what I guess I should work on this week. And remembering that the Lord loves me. And you. And all of us. And He is aware of our hearts and wants to let us know in myriad ways of His great, abiding love.

When the Light Comes On

Last night when I got home from the youth group meeting (after being gone from 3 p.m. to almost 9:00), I was beat. But my 9 year-old said, "Mommy, can you help me with my math?"


Sigh. It has been a long year with the workbook she's using. It just won't click with her cute little mind. So we sat down and ... it was long division.


Do you remember learning long division? Was it the easiest, most fun thing ever? I'll wager my whole plate of blueberry muffins it wasn't.


I had a feeling we had a long night ahead of us.


Step by step I worked the first problem. Then I handed her the pencil and walked her through the second problem. And the third, and the fourth. Then on the fifth, I put her on her own. She started great. And got stuck. She couldn't remember to bring down the digit. So I drew an arrow on all the earlier problems, and then she drew the arrow on her own and brought it down. The visual clue kind of helped.


She worked it, found the answer, and then ... the smile. "Oh, Mommy. I think I get it."


She didn't. On the next three problems she got stuck in the same place after bringing down the digit.
But with a little reminder, telling her to look at the problems she'd done earlier for the steps, she did get it. She did!


Then I wrote down the steps:
1- Goes into
2- Multiply
3- Subtract
4- Bring down
Repeat 1, 2, 3, 4.


Maybe that won't make sense to anyone else, but it was how we were talking it out. I wrote it in the front cover of her workbook.


She worked the rest of the problems--including the story problems, and anyone out there who doesn't give a slight shudder at the term "story problem" ... is pretty much alone.


When we shut the book an hour later, she said, "Mommy! Long division is easy!"


The light had come on. And it shone! Not some dull little 20 watt bulb, either.


She went to bed happy, and so did I.


So this morning, I helped her double check last night's work with multiplication, and she still remembered the formula and still thought it was easy.


Is that success? I submit to you, gentle readers, that it is.


So now I sat here remembering the sweetness of it and thinking, I wonder if this is how the Lord feels when he has given us a challenge, walked us through it a few times, held our hand, given us the chance to work it out ourselves, and then sees us think we learned it, and then sees us rejoice when the light of understanding and growth really comes on.


I truly believe He rejoices with us. And I believe He gives us problems--including stuff akin to long division, and even worse, story problems of life, and the guidance to get through them. Best of all, His Son was there to set the example for how to get through any and all of our struggles. He felt the pain and will bless us through them.


He is the perfect Teacher.


I love Him so dearly.

Finding Peace in Times of Despair

A dear friend of mine lost a child last month, right before Christmas. He was a sweet little boy, so precious. Their loss is terrible and heartbreaking.
And yet, as I read how she is faring, through all the sorrow, I continue to see positivity, strength, faith and hope.
How does she do it?
Well, all her posts refer to her great belief that there is life after this life, that death is not the end, that the children who belong to us here will be ours even after we die, that families are forever--in other words, that the eternal family is part of God's great plan for His children.
In times of extremity we can feel to despair. Without sure knowledge, how can we help but feel tempted to do so? However, setting aside doubt is possible. And when we do, when we let go of doubt, we can find incredible peace. It's like a door in our souls opens up and lets in a wash of light that brings happiness and hope and direction.
I admire my dear friend's faith, and especially her willingness to sacrifice her doubt. Because that's what it is--a sacrifice. Her strength is a strength to me. I think of the losses I've faced in my own life, though not the same as hers, and I can see that belief is so much happier and better than unbelief. Surrendering the crutch of doubt lets me run in the light of faith.

Sleeping Through The Garden

As I have been preparing my heart for Christmas, I have been reading several different scenes from the life of our Lord. One is the Garden of Gethsemane. I read and reread His heavy experience there, trying to comprehend, even a tiny degree, what sacrifice was made there on my behalf.


The thing that struck me this time reading was how alone the Savior was. After the apostles partook of the Last Supper, Jesus invited just Peter, James and John to go with Him on this difficult trek into the deepest abyss of the soul, a place only a God could go and survive. To take on Him all our sins, weaknesses, infirmities, mistakes, all at once, it's just incomprehensible.


But of his companions He asked one thing: stay awake.


And they couldn't.


We've all been there--so tired we simply cannot keep our eyes open, maybe even despite danger. Like driving late at night after a long day. I remember one time I nearly wrecked my car with all my little children inside. The only thing that saved me was calling my husband and having him talk me home, the last ten minutes of the drive. I needed him. I needed his help to get through.


The Savior, all He asked was to have a few friends there to support Him.


And they could not watch one hour.


It's disheartening.


And yet, isn't it a type of the human condition? How "awake" are we on a regular basis to the sacrifice that has been made by our God for us? What is my alertness level to the massive debt of gratitude and honor and fealty I owe to Him who stood between me and Justice, which gapes wide to claim my eternal soul, unless I repent and cast myself at His feet?


Sadly, I know there are days when most of us, self included, hardly give it a passing thought.


Sleeping through it. That's all I do from time to time.


And what He asks is that I stay awake. Be aware of His divine suffering on my behalf.
I love Him. This Christmas season is helping me to wake up. I hope I can stay awake in days and months and years to come.

Getting Off Nephi's Path

This morning I was studying the scriptures about happiness, and I read 1 Nephi 8:10. “And it came to pass that I beheld a tree, whose fruit was desirable to make one happy.”

 

Now, we all know Nephi sees the interpretation of his father’s dream and that the fruit of that tree is the Love of God. I started to think about this happiness, this fruit, this love.

 

My husband has a little orchard. It’s a baby orchard, and this is the first year we will have any fruit. But we do! And there are some fruits out there right now, just waiting to be picked. Pomegranates, apples, and such.

 

It occurred to me that I ought to think of Lehi’s dream fruit like that—just there, waiting. I can go pick it or not. But it’s ready anytime I want it. It won’t pick itself. And it won’t force itself to be tasted, but it’s ready. It’s available. It’s delicious.

 

All my life as I’ve studied Lehi’s vision, I’ve thought of those different groups on the pathway to the Tree of Life. Many are “pressing forward.” And it seems like it’s taking them a lot of effort to cling to that rod. And then, of course, there are groups that don’t make it.

 

When I put myself into this vision, I’d always ask, “Am I clinging to the rod? Am I on that path?” or various questions about whether I was dipping my toe in the filthy water or getting blinded by the mists or heeding the sneers of the people in the great and spacious building across the way. Oh, how I hoped I was on that path! I just desperately wanted to move toward that love.

 

Someday, I thought. Someday!

 

However, when I looked again, I realized Lehi called to his family, and Sariah and Nephi and Sam came immediately. They ate right away. There was no implication that the iron rod that led to the tree was a thousand miles long, a lifetime long.

 

This morning, it occurred to me. I’m not on that path.

 

I’m already at the tree. I have TASTED that fruit! In fact, I’ve been at the tree for a LONG time. I’ve been tasting the fruit, sharing it with my family, trying to share it with the people over whom I have stewardship in church callings and things. Yeah, I’m still clinging to the iron rod of God’s word—trying to, at least. And there are still dangers even once you reach the tree. We just need to keep eating it, and let it, as Alma taught in Alma 32, “be a tree springing up unto everlasting life.”

 

Anyway, maybe my problem with hesitation to share the gospel, to holler out to others to come and taste the fruit is this mental image of where I placed myself: on the path. But mentally I need to get off the path. Recognize that I’m at the tree, and we can all be—right away.

 

It’s time to go invite my dear ones to come and taste.

 

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.

Does God Really Have Time for Me?

A few years ago a friend of mine gave me a collection of her favorite quotes. It was so good it made me want to start keeping my own collection. The other day while looking for something else, I found my little quote journal. This thing I'd written down really struck me, and I've been thinking of it every day since.


"[God] has infinite attention to spare for each one of us. He does not have to deal with us in the mass. You are as much alone with Him as if you were the only being He had ever created. When Christ died, He died for you individually just as much as if you had been the only man in the world." --C.S. Lewis


I don't know about everyone else, but there are times when I know the worries in my life are trivial. There are so many others who have bigger concerns, that when I want to pray about my problem, ask for help with my dumb little thing, I feel guilty asking for help. Answering my prayer would be a waste of His time. Right?


This quote says no. That way of thinking is a fallacy. He has infinite time and infinite attention.


My concerns might be small compared to others' but they're still mine, and He still cares for me enough to stop, listen, help. He doesn't have to take His eyes off someone else in order to look my way. I am not a waste of His time.


How liberating! How comforting! How much LOVE I feel just in this idea alone.


I am His. He is mine. And He cares for me and my cares, great or small. It makes me want to go to Him more, to trust Him more, to give him more opportunities to guide and bless my life.

How Can I Strengthen Others?

Like I posted a few weeks ago, I have seen lots of friends and family around me lately facing trials--some that almost seem too much to bear. This morning I just pondered on that for a while and asked the question, "How can I strengthen others?"


I know that I can't stop someone's illness. I can't take away the pain of the loss of a child. I can't fix the big heartbreaks. It's not in my power. I'm just...me. And I have my own little muddles I'm working through, and I have kids to care for and their muddles.


Still, I wish I could somehow lighten others' loads.


So this morning I turned to the scriptures to see if there was some way I could help. I started by checking the index under the word "strengthen."


One verse stuck out to me:


5 Wherefore, be faithful; stand in the office which I have appointed unto you; succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees. (Doctrine and Covenants 81:5)


A lot of my dear ones right now have hands which hang down. But how could I lift them?


The next verse I found was in the Book of Mormon.


3 And thus we see that the commandments of God must be fulfilled. And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them. (1Nephi 17:3)


Of course *I* wasn't going to do the strengthening, and this made it clear. God does all the strengthening. And according to this verse, the promise is that He will strengthen His children when they keep the commandments. Maybe I could help my loved ones keep the commandments. Just exactly how to do that isn't clear. But I did have a chance to take a young friend to church (after a while of being away) a couple of weeks ago, where she was embraced by friends, and since then I've seen so much strength come into her life. Maybe something like that. Not sure. Maybe something else will come to me.


Another little story in the Book of Mormon helped me think of another thing. These people had been pretty wicked, and just as they were in the process of repenting and getting their lives back on track, a group of bad guys swooped in and enslaved them. So they were praying. A lot. And then things got worse:


11 ...he put guards over them to watch them, that whosoever should be found calling upon God should be put to death.

 12 And Alma and his people did not raise their voices to the Lord their God, but did pour out their hearts to him; and he did know the thoughts of their hearts.

 13 And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.

 14 And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.

 15 And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.

 16 And it came to pass that so great was their faith and their patience that the voice of the Lord came unto them again, saying: Be of good comfort, for on the morrow I will deliver you out of bondage (Mosiah 24:11-16).

But like this says, after the people prayed anyway, even if only in their hearts, with great earnestness, a miracle occurred. Prayers were answered and God strengthened their backs, which made their burdens light.

I can pray for those I love who are in trials. I can pray with them. I can encourage them to keep praying. Prayer is key. I've seen this in reality in my own life.

Finally, since I was running out of scripture time this morning, I flipped to the Old Testament, where I found one of the coolest answers to my question. It wasn't that I meant to look for it. It just happened to be in the chapter I was in my daily reading, 2 Chronicles chapter 20.

In the story, Jehoshaphat had been preparing the people of Judah for a huge battle against the Syrians and Ammonites. To prepare them he set his mind, declared a day of fasting, gathered his people at the temple, and prayed with incredible humility and strength, putting all his trust in the LORD.

Then came the thing that surprised me. He appointed SINGERS. Singers? Yep. He put them out in FRONT of the troops who were lining up to battle They went before the front line, singing songs of praise and strengthening the resolve and faith of those who would fight.

God fought their battle. All their enemies fell before them--and it seemed like the enemies turned on each other and started wiping each other out. Jehoshaphat's army prevailed through the Lord.

Music. Maybe I can find good, uplifting music to share with these loved ones of mine to help them get through.

It's hard to feel so helpless as I witness suffering, but maybe there's even a little something I can do. The scriptures really are full of incredible answers to even the small, everyday questions.

She's Hatin' It -- Dealing With a Bad Day

I've been remembering a bunch of lingo from days gone by lately. Cool beans, anyone?


I went to see a young woman I know, and her boyfriend was there. Both of them were having a bad day. He was describing some of the people he'd run into during his last job (sales) as "buttmunchers." It wasn't a word I really ever used, but it took me back.


Then I started thinking about the term "hating it"-- or as we pronounced it, "hatin' it." My friend's boyfriend was, as we said in the '80s and '90s, "hatin' it." Lost his job, was getting kicked out of his house, had not a dollar to his name, couldn't find another job, needed cash to get to a city 1000 miles away to his only kind family member. Hatin' it.


That term floated around a lot. Something bad would happen to someone and we'd be discussing it and almost inevitably the word would come up. "Oh, man. She was doing a triple flip off the diving board and belly flopped. Man, she was hatin' it." Or, "Dude dropped all his classes and then found out he wasn't going to be able to go on the trip after all. Now he's hatin' it."


Any bad situation could be described as hating it.


Sometimes I end up having a bad day. Like, for instance, today. Not that I've attempted any triple flips or enrolled in college or even planned a failed trip. However, things have just been tough to take today. (And I am not sure if that's because things were actually hard, or if it's attributable to that old problem of "that which we don't persist in doing becomes more difficult to do, not because the nature of the thing itself has changed, but because our ability to do has decreased." Okay, that was warped--but I think it might describe my state of being.)


Anyway, the old term came up. I was hatin' it.


Then a scripture from the New Testament came to mind:

John 12:25

25 He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal.


I think most of the time, I'm living a very blessed life. I know that is so. And it's because I've been lifted up by the arms of giants -- my parents and grandparents and ancestors and other people of great faith. Teachers, relatives, kind friends, my dear husband. I know that the blessings I enjoy are not of my own making. Sure, I have tried to be appreciative of the blessings I've been given by not squandering them for the most part, but it's clearly not a case of being a self-made woman. Most of the time I'm loving my life. (See above.)


However, I do know people who are hating it. Trials given to good people. Lack of opportunities or support through which others must muddle.Those who don't have a spiritual grounding to give them stability and strength, which alone would make anyone so they were hating it.


But then, like Savior taught, the good news is this: hating it can be a good thing. It's something the Lord uses to our advantage. Those of us who live a good life most of the time may not have the opportunities to learn to lean on the Lord, may not grow in faith. The hating it portions of life are the times when the mettle is tested.


And we all end up hating it sooner or later. The Lord has customized trials for each of us.


Like I have said before, writing fiction has taught me a lot of things, and one of them is about how conflict (in fiction or in life) reveals character. Probably a day like today, where a few minor things weren't going my way, revealed that my inner character is a big, fat whiner in need of greater faith. What I need to remember is that the Lord is playing "the long game" with my soul, and I need to look farther down the line.


Another idea has hit me lately, and that is when we are in the thick of things and everything looks horrible and like it's "total wackness" (another '90s saying that I obviously didn't say much because I sound stupid even typing it), that what we need to do is remember that this moment is nothing but what I call "a snapshot in time."


We can't judge things based on the moment. What may seem like a tragedy right this minute could be a completely different situation in a few days, weeks, or even years. A couple of months ago, I was really down about a situation with some loved ones that had seemed impossibly bad for about five years. Then, within a few days, I heard news that showed that things had turned around drastically for all of these dear ones.


My despair had been based on a snapshot in time.


Things get better. Things won't always be bleak. If you're "hating it" right now, there is a good time coming. We have to hold on. And in the meantime, latch onto the idea of the long game. God is playing the long game with our lives. He lets us hate our lives so he can make us into something beautiful. And even though there are some lives that seem like unmitigated sorrow (we've all known situations like this), we must latch onto another idea--that those who hate their lives in this world will be blessed with eternal life. God will not let the downtrodden go unrewarded. He notices. He cares. He will bless those who suffer. He chastens those who He loves. (Us. All of us.)

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.