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.

How to Follow Christ: Noticing the One

This past week was weird. I started the week attending a political meeting, where I met and shook hands with important political figures of our state, as well as our nation. My husband and I got our photo taken with someone you've probably heard of, no matter who you are or where you live. There were great speeches given, and bold statements made. Decision-makers spoke. We listened.


Later in the week I attended a writers conference with about 250 other writers, all in different stages of their writing careers. There, in attendance, were award-winning writers. Some had sold millions of books. Some you have probably heard of. Also at the conference were decision-makers. Editors and agents are the gatekeepers of the book industry, and they had come to look for new material to one day be placed on bookshelves in your local store. No matter what workshop we were in, eyes were on these men and women.


On the way home, though, I rode with my friend. We'll call her Valerie. I asked Valerie what was her favorite part of the writing conference. She said it was talking to her dear friend, a longtime writer but one who is now suffering from Parkinson's disease, and who is frail and sat at the back of every session. Valerie took the time to sit and visit with this sister, to make her feel noticed and important and special. Because Valerie's husband also suffers from this disease, and Valerie is his main caregiver, she could really offer empathy to this sister, and could listen better than anyone.


As I thought about these experiences the next morning, I couldn't help but think about the time in Jesus's life when he was teaching in the synagogue and noticed a woman "bent in two." He healed her, though it was the Sabbath. Of course, He caught flak for this, but then He rebuffed His detractors with the fact that she was a daughter of Abraham and deserved to be healed any day of the week.


This story comes to mind often. It's a favorite of mine, I think because I realize there are those around who go unnoticed and whose pain is ignored by the more mainstream of society. But our Savior saw her. And our Savior sees me, and He sees you. And I loved being able to hear about my friend Valerie's skill at noticing the one who no one else noticed, and to show that person love. I want to be like Valerie.


Of course, even the people who are "important," and "decision-makers" also need to be noticed and loved on an individual level. It is wonderful to know that no matter our station in life, the Savior is aware of our needs and our insecurities, of our pain and of our joy.


I love Him. And I love that I have examples of His kind of love in my own life that I can see in action daily.

How to Read the Scriptures: A Seven-Step Pattern

I was reading a book this morning by Clay Christensen, a professor at Harvard University. It covers a lot of different topics, but one thing he wrote really struck me. He said that we get trained in school how to read textbooks and novels, and they are mostly a "start to finish" read-through. However, he said, reading the scriptures is a very different skill set. When reading the scriptures, the most effective way to read is to look for answers to questions we may have.


Then there's a seven-step pattern: pray, read, write; pray, read, write; pray.


When we study the scriptures, the best way is to start with a question. For instance, what about original sin or infant baptism or what happens when a loved one dies.


Then it's like homework, but spiritual homework.


The first step is to PRAY. I find it effective to first pray and express to Heavenly Father my gratitude for the scriptures, for those who sacrificed so much to make them available to me in my language, and to God for his goodness in giving them to me to guide me. Also in the prayer, I talk to Him about my question, the things that concern me, the things I've reasoned out, and the thing that still puzzles me.


The second step is to find and READ scripture passages that apply to the question. (Use the index or topical guide, or ask a missionary or friend if you don't know where to look for the answer.) Read and ponder what is in the passage.


Then get a notebook and WRITE down what insights you've gained through reading the scripture, how your understanding has changed, and so on.


Next, PRAY again. Express gratitude for the understanding gained. Also ask if there's further insight and understanding God might have beyond what was gleaned in the first reading and writing.


Then, READ again, looking for further enlightenment.


WRITE down anything else you might have learned.


Finally, a PRAYER of thanks is in order, plus a COMMITMENT in the heart that we will live true to the truth gained from this study.


Maybe the commitment to live according to truth is the most vital. If the only reason we want to know is to satisfy curiosity, it's not as likely that God will answer these inquiries. However, if we truly intend to live and follow this truth, and we prove to Him that we will by DOING so, then our future study of the scriptures can result in great spiritual insights.


I am so glad I read about this pattern this morning. While I've spent a lifetime studying the scriptures and attending Sunday School classes, I still have questions, and lack understanding of the mysteries of God. I plan to make this pattern a part of my morning study routine. Doing this will slow me down in my study--exactly what I've been intending to do.

How to Follow Christ: The Lost Coin

I'm still reading the New Testament, in Luke. I'm trying to take the parables slowly, let them seep into my soul. There's a pairing of parables in Luke 15, the parable of the lost sheep, and the parable of the lost coin, that seem very similar, but that make different points.


I think most people who have read the New Testament have been affected by the parable of the lost sheep. Such an image, of a shepherd bringing the lost one home on his shoulders.


Today I have been thinking about the lost coin. It's slightly different. From the commentary I read (some by Bruce R. McConkie, some by Andrew Skinner and Kelly Ogden, and some by Reverend Farrar), this parable is juxtaposed with the lost sheep because whereas a sheep can wander off of its own power, the coin is lost due to neglect.


8 ¶Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one ^apiece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it?

 9 And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost.

 10 Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the ^aangels of God over one ^bsinner that repenteth.

I think of myself as the woman having the responsibility over the coins. The coins, of course, are souls. Like the coin itself, which has the image of the king stamped upon it to give it value, the soul of man has the image of the King stamped upon it, giving it value. We are made in God's image. Every soul has value. As a follower in the kingdom, I have responsibility for the souls within it, and should do everything this woman did (turn on a bright light, sweep to the very corners) to reach out and find the lost souls within my sphere of responsibility.

It's hard sometimes to labor that diligently. I find myself tending to think that people have their agency to choose whether they want to wander--like the sheep. But truthfully, some souls are lost by neglect, like the coin. And then, how much greater the duty to seek them out.

I want to be better at this.

How to Make Sacrifices for Christ: Counting the Cost

This morning I was reading in the New Testament from Luke Chapter 14. I'm making my way through the New and Old Testaments slowly. Recently I read something I believe was from Joseph Fielding McConkie like "We read the scriptures too quickly," and that's certainly been the case with me. A chapter in three different books each morning, about a half hour of study. Zip, done. Pondering quickly (oxymoron), getting a bit of spiritual breakfast and I'm off.


But I ought to be feasting on the word. And so I've been reading more slowly. In the New Testament I've been trying to read just a paragraph or two (signified by the paragraph symbols.) I then try to focus and think about what that parable or event could mean. It has helped.


So today I read about when Jesus was being followed by a great multitude of people and he turned to them and told them in order to be his disciples they have to hate father, mother, wife, children, brethren, sisters, to follow him. Then he gave this parable:


28 For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and ^acounteth the ^bcost, whether he have sufficient to ^cfinish it?

 29 Lest ^ahaply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him,

 30 Saying, This man began to build, and was not able to ^afinish.

 31 Or what king, going to make war against another king, sitteth not down first, and ^aconsulteth whether he be able with ten thousand to meet him that cometh against him with twenty thousand?

 32 Or else, while the other is yet a great way off, he sendeth an ^aambassage, and desireth conditions of peace.

 33 So likewise, whosoever he be of you that ^aforsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my ^bdisciple.

The thing that struck me about this was that yes, we want to follow Christ. We feel the Spirit when we read His words and the Spirit fills our souls, and we think this is what I want. That must have been the case among the great multitude that followed Him.

But Christ pointed out that there is a cost. If you want the tower, you have to plan to finish it. If you want to win the battle, you need to evaluate your resources and whether you're going to win. You don't want to look like a quitter. You don't want to look like a failure. You need to plan for the victory and for success. But the tower is worth it, as is the victory. And so you "count the cost."

That final verse, 33, where he says, "forsaketh not all that he hath," shows what the cost is for becoming a disciple of Christ, one of the greatest things to be desired because the rewards are immeasurably great--greater than the multitude could've imagined at that time.

This is the cost: all that we are and have, forever more.

Considering this, I think baptism is what shows that we are willing to give it, and I believe that the strengthening we get from the Holy Ghost along the way is the great enabling power that helps us pay that cost as we go. We learn to pay the price. We become so that we are able to pay the cost, with His divine help.

We should not forget to count that Helper into our cost estimate, because He is always there for us, lifting us and making us better.