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.)

Why Bad Things Happen To Good People -- A Bible Answer

Maybe it's only me, but it seems like life goes in waves sometimes. There are peaks and valleys, times of ease and times of trial. Right now in the lives of many people I love and care about, it seems like waves of trial. A loss of a job -- complicated by a dire illness in the family, a child stricken with disease, a wayward loved one making destructive choices, financial crises, marriages in trouble, health struggles, and so on. I have mourned with them, and wondered why these good people are going through so much difficulty.


But that is the age-old question: Why should good people have to suffer bad things?


We've heard it a hundred times. Shouldn't the righteous be blessed and the wicked punished? And yet it doesn't seem to work that way. Sometimes the wicked seem to prosper and the righteous struggle. How could a just God allow that to happen? Those who are following Him, doing their best, still end up with trials--some of them simply huge.


Some people say the scriptures don't address this, and yet, the words of Christ teach us this is going to happen-- and why. Granted, it's in the Gospel of John, and the words in that book are somewhat poetic, and maybe a little harder to grasp the meaning, at least for me, but here's the passage I'm thinking of.


John 15:1-8
1 I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman.


The first part means, since these are the words of Christ, He is the "true vine," the thing from which we all grow from and find nourishment in. The second part means the Father is the one in charge of the whole vineyard. He decides how to take care of all the grapevines and then is the one that keeps the fruit at the end. Christ always gives the glory to His Father.


2 Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit.


We're the branches on the vine. When we don't bear fruit, the Husbandman takes them away. I think that means the Father doesn't let those people have His Spirit with them.


When, however, we do bear fruit, he "purges" us. The footnote for the word "purgeth" says it comes from a Greek word meaning "try, test, prove."


My husband is a backyard farmer and has been taking good care of our grapevines this year.  We've gone a few years with only tiny, sour grapes--too many bunches of them, all basically inedible. This year, though, he got rid of the fruitless branches so they wouldn't suck up all the soil's nutrients. And he went through and cut back the good branches so we'd get more grapes. We're having a good crop of sweet grapes this year because of his work.


The Lord has to cut us back. He has to purge us, prune us. This scripture says the Husbandman gives us trials, for His purpose, and that He wants the branches to bring forth fruit.


I guess there are ways we, too, can cut back in our lives. We can get rid of the things that are sucking the nutrients we need. Time wasters, friends who keep us from doing what we know we should. (Sometimes friends can be clutter.) Bad habits. That's a tangent, but I could benefit from a pruning I give myself and my time for sure.


There are more verses about this and then verse 8 says this:


8 Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples.


That is the Father's glory. I know the greatest feelings I glory in are the successes and growth of my children. I sense that is a tiny taste of how our Father feels about us and our growth.


And it is what makes us Christ's disciples.


As I pray for my friends and family members in their times of need, I think of the times of trial I've faced as well. I know there are waves of trial coming my way too, and I hope I can follow the examples of faith of these dear ones. These good people are clinging to the True Vine, the Savior, and He is nourishing them as they go. I'm struck by my friends' faith. It is giving them strength to endure, and I'm inspired by their love for God, and God's love for them.


It's interesting that the verses that follow this passage I've just noted are all about love. God's love is evident in the way he purges us. He wants to make us disciples of Christ, and to glory in us, His children.


And so maybe the bad things happening to good people are actually just "proof" (since the word purge means to prove) that we belong to the True Vine and that we allow the Husbandman to work in our lives. Because He loves us and wants to make us His.

Reverence Begins With Me. Or Not.

I have tried over the years to teach my kids to be reverent in church. We've tried various methods. We've had family night discussions on the topic. I've tried things like bringing coloring books or not bringing coloring books. We've done fruit snacks and no fruit snacks. We've tried our usual "delicate balance of threats and bribery." I'll never forget the Sunday when, during the sacrament, one of my children (all of whom have voices that carry supernaturally well) sang out clear as a bell, "Conjunction Junction, what's your function?"


Ah. Yes. Reverence in church.


What we've finally settled on is this: come in, sit down. Make sure you sing all the hymns. Listen as well as you can. It's okay to draw a little, or to have maybe one toy (nothing that beeps or clicks), but that paper or toy cannot come out of the bag until after the sacrament is over. As they get older, it's getting easier. Much easier. But there are still times when it's not a success. Like today.


For anyone who is reading this that hasn't been to a Mormon sacrament meeting, it's a full family affair, and sometimes it just isn't as quiet as we'd all like it to be. But we're striving! And it lasts about 65 minutes, the last 40 being talks given by assigned members of the congregation, the first 25 generally being song, prayer, announcements, business, and then the administering of the bread and water. It's the most important time to be solemn and reflective. We're encouraged to come weekly to receive this and to recommit to following God and to reconnect with the Holy Spirit in our lives, showing that we repent and will try again. Since we all fail. As you shall soon see.


Because today, there was a fail.


I had meetings before church today, which meant I wasn't home to monitor things. I wasn't particularly surprised when my 6 year old showed up with two different shoes: one little black sparkly shoe that's too small (a left shoe) juxtaposed with a pink Disney Princess croc. Also a left shoe. Yeah, I rolled my eyes. Should've totally finished the getting-the-girl-dressed job before I left. I had everything on her but the shoes. Alas.


The other kids looked fine.


But then, I made the mistake of not confiscating all the toys right before the meeting started. My sons had a friend sitting with them, so there were a lot of people between me and the littlest one. The Long Arm of the Mom was not quite long enough. But they knew the rules, right? Toys would stay hidden.


Wrong. Totally.


And worst of all, it was the most wrongest toy ever of all time. Made wronger by the 9 year old and her decorative mini-duct-tape supply.


When I should have been thinking about sacred things, I peeked open an eye and glanced down the pew. There, the six year old had out her doll. Not any doll. A Barbie. But not any Barbie. It was a male Barbie doll--a gift from the neighbor girl across the street: The Justin Bieber action figure Barbie.


And it had on no clothes.


Except the decorative mini-duct-tape placed strategically over his white plastic underwear. It was sparkly. And it had rainbow peace symbols on it. And it was at church.


And at that moment, I will sadly admit: reverence did not begin with me.


I am committed to trying harder next week. And to confiscating all such toys ahead of time.

When is Not-Enough Enough?

Lately I have had a few worries about whether or not what I am, what I do, what I have... all those things... whether it's enough. Maybe I'm not the only one who stresses about those things. It's tough to be part of this world where there are always outside forces telling us "more" is what we need to be/do/have. It's why I avoid Pinterest like the plague. I can never be/do/have all of that, and it cripples my self-esteem when I spend time there.


Anywayzzzzz. So, I'd been praying about this. How could what I am/do/have be enough? Ever? It seems like I lack so severely! Others with even less (in the way of means or health or whatever) seem to get by so well, and seem to do so with grace and faith. Why couldn't I just trust God and let Him care for me? That, too, was a worry. Why wasn't my faith enough?


Nevertheless, there are times when I look at myself and think, This is obviously going to fall short--way, way short. The great thing I'm shooting for can never, ever, ever be accomplished with the current resources. It's impossible.


Enter...the scriptures. They are so good! They are there for me! The life of our Savior illustrates all these great principles and how to handle even moments of mom-misgivings and fears and lack.


So I was reading along in the New Testament, John chapter six, where Christ feeds the multitude. There was a huge crowd. They were hungry. There was no food. Christ asked Philip what they were going to do, just to prove him.


Okay, I'll just copy and paste the words from the KJV.


5 ¶When Jesus then lifted up his eyes, and saw a great company come unto him, he saith unto Philip, Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat?

 6 And this he said to prove him: for he himself knew what he would do.

 7 Philip answered him, Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one of them may take a little.

 8 One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, saith unto him,

 9 There is a lad here, which hath five barley loaves, and two small fishes: but what are they among so many?

 10 And Jesus said, Make the men sit down. Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, in number about five thousand.

 11 And Jesus took the loaves; and when he had given thanks, he distributed to the disciples, and the disciples to them that were set down; and likewise of the fishes as much as they would.

 12 When they were filled, he said unto his disciples, Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.

 13 Therefore they gathered them together, and filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves, which remained over and above unto them that had eaten.

As I read this, a phrase from in verse eleven jumped out at me like it was neon-lit:

and when he had given thanks

It was after He took what little he had, and gave thanks, and shared with others, that there was enough. No, there was more than enough. There was excess beyond what they started with.


It hit me that if I give thanks for the things I have been blessed with, and share with others, that God can make my meager means enough. No, more than enough. That He can, when I show gratitude, turn a pittance into a fortune.


I've heard it said that faith and fear cannot coexist, and so I am going to have to dump my fear. Sacrifice it. Give it up. Dang it, I find I hold onto it hard. It's going to take faith I am short on and trust that He can make me and my efforts and my means enough to accomplish His great work in whatever it is He requires of me, whether it is in my home or my family or in my efforts to serve Him. That He will multiply my efforts, which are OBVIOUSLY not enough, and make them enough.

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.

Like a Cheese Grater for the Foot...Stony vs. Fleshy

Last week I started running again after a five month hiatus to let my owie knee rest. It still sounds like a box of Tic Tacs when I walk down a staircase, but it doesn't hurt anymore, which means I started back out there. We'll see how long it lasts.


One of the unexpected blessings of the hiatus was the calluses on my feet healed up. When I checked them out today, for the first time in a few years, they were more like human flesh than like the pumice I use on them. My pumice stone is part of a pedicure paddle, and on the other side of it is a thing that's remarkably like the cheese grater / lemon zester tool I use in my kitchen. Except I use it on the bottoms of my feet. And often the calluses are so thick it doesn't even hurt.


So, does this have a scriptural point? Why, yes. It does. Because I have still been reading in the book of Ezekiel, from Chapter 11:

 18 And they shall come thither, and they shall take away all the detestable things thereof and all the abominations thereof from thence.

 19 And I will ^agive them one ^bheart, and I will put a ^cnew ^dspirit within you; and I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them an ^eheart of flesh:

 20 That they may ^awalk in my statutes, and keep mine ^bordinances, and do them: and they shall be my ^cpeople, and I will be their God.

I keep thinking of this phrase, "stony heart."


When we sin, we feel bad. It hurts us when our hearts are soft because we're each born with a conscience, given to us by our Heavenly Father. That's like a central nervous system for our soul.


It's like when we accidentally touch a hot stove. The heat would damage us, and the pain tells us to stop.


So, in a strange way, the pain is a good thing. A warning system.

However, if we repeatedly burn our hand, after a while it gets deadened and we can't feel it as much. 

That, or in the case of a callused-over blister, our flesh actually hardens.

Likewise, our spirits can harden. If we ignore the pain of sin long enough, it can make our hearts like Ezekiel said: stony.


Anyway, I was thinking about it. When we do stuff we shouldn't, and it hurts, we basically have two options to help us stop feeling sad/bad about it. 1) We can repent. 2) We can keep sinning and develop a spiritual callus (i.e., "harden our hearts.")


It can harden to the point that it doesn't even hurt when we scrape a cheese grater over it. We ignore it, until we barely notice we're constantly walking around both harmed and callused.


Ezekiel says when Israel is gathered, they will put aside their "detestable things," and when they come to Christ, He will give them a heart of flesh and take away their stony heart.


Then they can walk in His statutes and ordinances (like taking the sacrament) and be His people and He is their God.

The Lord wants soft hearts. He is a God of soft hearts.

And another important point is we don't have to make the exchange. I don't have the skill to turn rocks to flesh. But He does. He turned water into wine. He can and will turn stone into softness.


All we have to do is put aside our detestable things and come to Him.


And so, according to Ezekiel, I need to get off my stony, callused feet and onto the flesh of my knees.