Gathering Humanity

I volunteer with an organization called Gathering Humanity.  We are just a bunch of moms... some older, some younger, some somewhere in between.  But the one thing we have in common is we feel compelled to help those who are vulnerable.  And some of the most vulnerable people in the world are refugees.  So that is who we help.  We literally gather love, kindness, resources, time, compassion, furniture, friends, and hygiene kits, meals, groceries, etc. and we distribute them to beautiful people who are arriving in our country from refugee camps.  We don't know these people and often we never even meet them but we go to their little (I mean tiny) apartments, in areas none of us would ever choose to live, and we pepper them with as much love, kindness and goodwill as we can till it is no longer an undesirable apartment but a home full of as much love as we can leave behind.

Over the years, I have had different emotions overwhelm me as I have left each apartment.  I remember leaving a single Afghan mom of 7 in a 2 bedroom apartment in an area that terrified me.  The people mulling around that complex were harsh and scary looking.   She had 6 little girls and a teenage son and I couldn't imagine them being able to go outside or play or explore.  I felt scared for them.  They didn't speak any English and though we left as much love as we could, I worried how long it could last...  What would they do?  Who would help them?  How scary must it be to be that mom?

Another family, this one from Cuba, left me feeling frustrated and homesick for them.  The young dad was a dentist and had been basically pimped out by his government to another country to work.  The money he made went back to his government.  Not to him or his family.  He missed his wife and daughter terribly and eventually applied for asylum so he could be reunited with his family.  Unable to return to his country and with the hope of a better life here, they had fled to the US.  The father is working on a construction crew for minimum wage now because he isn't licensed to practice dentistry in the US.  And the wife had to leave her 4 year old daughter with a lady she met in the apartment complex, all day, every day so she could work in a warehouse to pay the bills.  And they desperately missed their family in Cuba but they could not visit them.  Who knows when they would see each other again?  And that is how their life is every day... frustrating, sad, lonely.

Some of these apartments are roach infested, some have waterlogged walls and mold.  Most of them are fairly awful and rented to refugees who have no credit and no deposit because no one else wants them.  Our goal is to make them a little less harsh.  A little more inviting.

I have been trying to trust God more to help me help Him.  It is hard sometimes to try to juggle all the things I do and then take on big projects like these.  So I make deals with God and I move forward.  The deals look like this:  You tell me what you want me to do, I'll do it and You help me out with the things that are too much for me.  And it works pretty well - most of the time. 

I'll give you an example.  I had signed up to do 2 setups in one day which is a lot but there were no other leads available.  I was, so I agreed to do them but I was stressed about it.  I moved forward with faith that God was there for me.  I arranged 8 volunteers to do food  - 4 for the Pakistani family and 4 for the Congolese family.  2 would buy groceries and 2 would make a hot meal for the day the refugees arrived.  And I tried to gather helpers to set up the apartments.  Apartment set up volunteers are harder to find because of the time and commitment it takes.  Well, I could only find 2 helpers and my parents.  And I was super stressed.  My parents can't lift or carry heavy furniture so I was left with just a couple helpers when I really needed 8. 

As I tried not to stress out, I said a prayer and 3 more volunteers committed to coming.  Yay.  It was great and I stopped worrying.  The morning of the set up,  those 3 cancelled...  but at that point, I couldn't do anything about it.  We just had to go and do our best with who we had to help.  And, like always, we ended up getting it all done with no problem. 

God knew we could handle it without those volunteers that day but I didn't.  He gave me the gift of thinking we had help so I would not obsess about it all week.  It just makes me realize that, over and over and over again, God knows us and loves us and is there for us when we lean on him.   He knew I needed reassurance that we had enough help, so he gave that to me.  Even though that help didn't end up coming, it was a comfort to me to think they were until I could see that we were ok without them.  God sees up ahead and strengthens us and makes us more than we are.

Another miracle was when a Pakistani family arrived several days earlier than anticipated.  I had to ask my volunteers to have their food ready the very next day and one of the volunteers couldn't swing it.    No problem,  we'll work it out.  Not knowing how I could squeeze that into my day, I prayed and asked God to show me how to get it done.  No sooner had I said amen, A lady messaged me and said her mom was in town and wanted to help.  What could she do?  Well, that was quick.  Thank you God - and here is what she can do... : ) 

It seriously happens all the time like that with this work.  I repeat to myself over and over that God Will Provide - and he does.

Another hard part of the work that I mentioned earlier is that I worry and worry about the refugees. 
I worry about where they are and about the type of people who surround them. 
I worry about their kids and what kind of life they will have in a place where they don't speak the language at all. 
I worry they will be taken advantage of or neglected.
I worry if they will feel scared, sad, lonely.
I worry if they will be accepted and if they will be safe. 
I worry and worry and worry. 

God knows I worry and I imagine that He doesn't want that for me so he speaks peace to my mind so I don't get lost in worry.  This happened so beautifully one day when I was setting up an apartment for a Congolese family of 8.  The apartment complex bordered I-17 and was one big pile of rock.  There was not a tree or bush or flower to be seen anywhere.  There was a metal swingset in the courtyard surrounded by a sea of rock.  It was so uninviting and stark.  Like a playground on the moon... ugly and bare.

We entered the TINY apartment (the entire living space -kitchen and family room was the size of the entry in our home) and there were roaches everywhere.  Coming out of the sinks, the cracks in the baseboards, in the fridge?!? - everywhere.  The apartment was dirty and stinky and dark.  And we set to work.  Cleaning, installing, trying to paint those walls with some love.   We had a chair for each of the 8 family members and we couldn't fit them all in the apartment.  It was so small.

I couldn't stop worrying about the family that was coming...  About half way thru, I was out front grabbing some supplies and 3 older kids and a bunch of younger kids came over to me.  We started chatting and they began asking me questions: 
"Who is moving in?" 
"Where are they from?" 
"Do they speak Swahili or Spanish?" 
"Are there kids my age?" 
"Do they know that we will teach them English if they don't know it?" 
"We will show them around." 
"We teach English classes at night with our parents." 
"We collect old computers so they can come to our apartment if they need to use one."
"I help with an organization who helps refugees get computers to learn." 

!!!  And on and on they chattered.   And God gave me the tender mercy of bandaging up my sad heart.   And he helped me see.  I began to see that God has not forsaken these people - he has put them in a place where they will be accepted and cared for by his children.  Those little kids spoke peace to my heart and I invited them in (as if they couldn't see the entire apartment from the front door...) and showed them around and told them about the family who was coming. 

And I thanked God for giving my heart a break from worry - I needed that. 
And so it goes that God gives us what we need when we need it if we turn to Him.

I'm grateful for service and volunteering.  It is like lifting weights.  You lift and it hurts - and you break the fibers of your muscles as you strain - and you are sore and can't walk for a couple days, but when you heal, you are stronger and your muscles have more mass.  Bigger muscles that can then lift heavier burdens than they could before.   Volunteering creates something in me, in my heart, that is bigger and better and stronger than it was before.  It is often uncomfortable and leaves me tired but I am ALWAYS happier and stronger because I did it.  It is my drug.  It is a gift from God to be able to see His hand, hear His voice, see as He sees, feel more than I felt the day before.  As my heart breaks for others, the fibers of my heart heal and create more capacity to love. 

My dad always laughs and says that I must love to volunteer so much because I am from Tennessee and it is the "Volunteer state"... Maybe he's right.  Love you dad.  Or maybe it is just selfish.  I like to feel good and feel stronger and more capable of handling what life throws at me.    And serving does that for me.

Loving makes it hard to leave

Hailey is in the MTC - she left a week ago.  3 weeks in the MTC and she will be off to the Virginia, Richmond mission for a year and 1/2.  It should get easier to say goodbye to your children but it is getting harder.  Hailey left for college without a second glance backward.  She was ready and excited and full of forward momentum.  Then school ended and she came home for about 2 months before going on her mission.  The first month home was business as usual - things were the same as they had always been but as her call came and her departure date approached, our time together became greater and longer and more frequent.  The last 2 weeks, our time together doubled again and the last week we were practically inseperable.  The store, the aquarium, the Minute Clinic to wimp out on getting shots, the doctor to get medical records, the store, the store, the store...  Then chatting and packing and packing and folding and sorting endless piles of clothes (I think she may need to be in clothing rehab for her clothing addiction).  The time spent together was precious and cemented her in my heart - there was the rub...

Had she gone right from college, it would not have been nearly so hard a separation.  It was the time.  So much time.  Precious time.  Could that be the key?  Did it really take me 19 years to figure this out?  Or did it take 19 years for her to finally want to be with me.  Or a mixture of both?

Either way, it did it's magic and she became so dear to me.  More so in 2 weeks than in the 2 previous years.  Then came the moment for her to leave and the separation was more intense than I could have imagined.  I sure love that girl and admire her courage.

The airport was hard but we were all stoic.  And off went that little girl of mine.  Looking smaller and younger than I had remembered.  But so brave.  So determined and so strong.  I could imagine her at any moment saying, "This is too much mom.  This is too hard.  I'm going to stay here."  But she didn't - she trudged on to the unknown and my heart felt broken.

I'm not one to wallow in sadness so I left the next day for California and spent the next 2 days on the beach...  It helped.  I'm not going to lie.  I felt better and the family and I returned home and picked up where we had left off.  Monday, Tuesday... then Wednesday and I got an email from Hailey.

Wow - what power.  What strength and testimony.  I cried as I read it.  The tears were afraid to fall at the airport but not in my playroom at home.  I felt so comforted and so much joy as I read her letter.  She put into words who she really is and it gave me so much peace and comfort.

How did I get such a great kid and how did I not notice this spiritual powerhouse developing right before my eyes?  Oh to be 19 again and in the MTC and having such an experience.  I am so excited for her and her future.

Rock on Hailey.  I hope you know how dear you are to me.

Finding another Unicorn

Sometimes I feel like a unicorn.  Like I am all alone and that no one else feels like me.  Like no one else wants to be like me.  Like I really am inside, not who I am as I try to fit in... I am a member of my church and I love the scriptures but no one talks about scriptures with me.  It is church and home.  And as much as I try to mix them, I feel alone in my efforts.   I love the stories and lessons that are found in the scriptures but no one ever brings them up...  I love the power of living the gospel of Jesus Christ but no one around me testifies to me or teaches me.  Like I should know it all or like there is nothing to know...  And I have felt very alone.

I feel like a unicorn.  Kind of a freak here in Arizona.  I have to admit that I felt much more at home in the south where I am from.  There, people talk of Christ casually and often.  Maybe too casually sometimes, but I found the frequent reminders comforting and reassuring.  In high school, we would meet together as members of FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes) and we would pray together as friends and team mates.  We would pray for each other and share our faith.  We would have bible study and youth groups where we spoke of Christ without embarrassment or awkwardness because it's not Sunday.  We listened to Christian music with gusto and sang out our praises at the top of our voices (I can do a mean Amy Grant impression).

Then I got married to my sweetheart and moved west.  I thought it was what I wanted, but I lost something.  I lost the powerful feeling of testifying.  Sure people testify, but it has seemed manufactured and hollow.  Like people are afraid to speak of Christ so they testify of just about everything else.  I don't know how to explain it but I can go for a month without hearing of Christ and a year without anyone mentioning the gospel outside church.

Teach me!  Testify!  Let me feel your strength!  Let me feel that anyone else feels like me.  Give me the pure gospel, straight from the scriptures.  Let me know that I'm not crazy and that true is true and good is good and wrong is wrong.  Living in a world that is so lukewarm has been killing me.  Speak truth to me!  And stop making me feel like a freak to be a believer when I am in the middle of believers.

blah blah blah...  I had given up.   Part of my frustration was being with the little kids at church every week for 7 years.   Don't get me wrong, I loved it.  Loved the kids and what I taught.  We rotate every 4 years so I had taught Old Testament twice, New Testament twice, Book of Mormon twice and modern revelation once.  I LOVE teaching from the scriptures!  I felt the Spirit when I taught,  I felt edified, and I loved my class but 7 years of feeding yourself left me longing to be taught by someone else.

Then I was released and I began to go to Sunday School.

I have an amazing Sunday School teacher.  He filled me up each week.  He testified.  He called good, good and bad, bad.  He taught pure doctrine and the Spirit filled up all the emptiness in me week after week.  I needed to be taught, I needed to be testified to.  I needed to have the fire in me rekindled so I could remember who I really am.  Who I was, who I am, who I can be.  And I needed to feel like I wasn't alone.  Like I am not the only one who feels the way I do.  There is someone else out there who sees the world like me.  There is someone else fighting what I am fighting.

I felt like I found another unicorn.

I had seriously begun to doubt if there was ANYONE who feels the way I do.  And there is!  I hung on every word and it felt like home.  The Spirit poured thru me during each lesson.  I thanked God for him and begged God to give me a year in his class.   If I could only learn from him for a year, I would be good.  I could fill up my cup enough to face that aloneness again.  6 lessons later, he told us he sold his house and today will be his last day.  I cried.  Right in the middle of Sunday School.  Not because I need HIM but because I need what he did - Speaking of Christ, testifying boldly of truth.  I need people to teach me. To fill up my cup.  To let me know I am not alone in the battles I am fighting.  To give me reassurance that all the struggle is worth it.

It was a hard day.  I am still sad.  I need that but I am grateful that God at least allowed me to see it.  And it fortified me.  I can do this.  I know I am not alone.

Unicorns exist.

Superbowls and Sundays

Disclaimer:  I realize everyone has their own level of devotion to the Sabbath Day - and how I have chosen to honor the Sabbath may pale in comparison to the devotion of others or may seem extreme to some.  No judgement here.  We all walk our own path.

But here is my story.. Years ago, I committed myself to keeping the Sabbath Holy.  It was a personal effort to increase my devotion to God.  I decided that was my offering to God and, no matter what, I would try my best to honor the Sabbath Day.  

It was pretty easy at first.  No shopping, no boating trips, no going to the movies or watching television (Luckily I can record Downton Abbey).  The harder part was doing positive things to fill my beautiful Sundays.  Plan with the family, eat together, fellowship with church members and neighbors, read my scriptures and other good books, play games with the kids.

It was all good until the Super Bowl Sunday rolled around and my kids were old enough to know that there were parties going on at every other house in the neighborhood.  That is what everyone was talking about at church - there was an excitement and buzz - Where would you watch it?  Who invited who over?  What food are you serving?  All our friends were getting together to watch the game of the century with lots of food and fun.  The pressure was tremendous...  Should we go?  How do we explain why we aren't coming?

When do you change what you have dedicated to God to fit in with those around you?...

It was hard.  My husband was miserable.  My kids were revolting.  I was second guessing my offering of devotion.  Wasn't doing what is right supposed to make us happy?  Why were we all so NOT happy?  It was torture.

My family had a million complaints:  Why were we the ONLY people on the planet not watching the Super Bowl?  Why were we the ONLY people who wouldn't know about that awesome play or that super funny commercial?  Why did we have to miss out on the biggest event in history?  What would we say around the cooler at work?  The concerns were valid (although a bit first worldlish...) but real to my family.  How do we fit in and still keep our commitment to God?

Why can't we just do it this one day?  I thought a lot about that question.  And I guess we could have. But I wonder how it would feel like to explain to God that we kept our promise to Him at all times except the times when we planned not to...?  It just felt wrong to PLAN to break the Sabbath.

Ugh!  How do we justify the situation?

Then my husband had a brilliant idea!  Let's just go to bed early and get up super early and watch it.  Why didn't I think of that?  Probably because football isn't that big of a deal to me - but it is to him so we decided to do it.

We got up at 4 AM and the adversity began to push back on our efforts.  The remote was gone!  We looked and looked.  It was nowhere!  AAAAHHHHHHHH!  7 people looking for a remote that was there yesterday but gone today...  So much aggravation I can't even describe it.  It was like Satan was just laughing at our feeble attempt.  We looked for 30 minutes which seemed like forever at 4:00 in the morning...  Finally we said a prayer and wallah!  We found the remote!

We turned on the Super Bowl and I made a yummy  breakfast.  They watched the game.  We weren't so strange and backwards anymore.  My family went out into the world knowing what happened during the Super Bowl.  Yay.  Life was good.  A tradition was born.

The next year we planned ahead.  We carefully placed the remote in it's designated spot.  Prepared as much of the food as we could ahead of time and the tradition continued.  We got up and had a Super Bowl party before school.  And the years ticked by with our new tradition.  It was our thing.  Our family.  Something special but different.

So, yesterday I hardly even knew it was Super Bowl Sunday.  The stress and anxiety and pressure of years gone by was gone.  The house was calm - or as calm as it usually is on Sundays (which actually isn't calm at all...)  We had dinner and family planning and one of our kids actually shared a beautiful testimony of his gratitude that families can be together forever during scripture study.  

This morning with chorizzo tacos and blueberry pancakes we ate and snuggled and watched the Super Bowl - or at least part of it.   It was tradition.  And fun.  And exciting and wonderful.

Often I am so fed up with all the adversity and pressure I feel and I am ready to throw in the towel.  But I am so grateful for the times that I don't and the beauty that comes after the storm.  Because I can testify there is always a storm.  But I could never enjoy a Super Bowl as much on a Sunday as I do on a Monday morning snuggled up with my family.

Nephi and a Wheelbarrow

A couple of weeks ago,  Elder Holland came and spoke to the youth in our area. He said that every day since he went on his mission, he has thought about and benefitted from having served.  I could not agree more.  My mission to Guatemala has blessed my life in more ways than I can count.  Daily I am reminded of something I felt or learned or became as I served my Savior on a full time mission.  For those who are considering a mission, let me testify of the power a mission will have for good in your life.  

The first scripture I learned in the Missionary Training Center was Mosiah 4:9:

Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.  

The scriptures testify of God on every page.

But really, we only need to look around to know God exists.  We need only to study the stars or take a physics class or hold a new born baby to marvel at the perfection of God’s creations.  We only understand the smallest part yet all the parts point to an all loving creator.

Psalms 19: 1 The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.

If God is real,  and is the creator of our magnificent universe, and put our planets in orbit,  and spectacularly designed our earth to be the one place in space, that we could exist.  Shouldn’t our goal be to seek him?  To find him?  To know him?  To understand his works and try to understand him?  To be like Him?

We can’t comprehend all that our Father in Heaven is or all that our Savior is, But our goal is to try! 

Isn’t that what personal conversion is?  To seek and find God. In some small way?  To come to discover and understand our Savior Jesus Christ?

But how do we do that?

Proverbs 4:7  Gives us a hint:  It says,    Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding.

We get.  get get get.

Instagram, Netflix, carpool, jobs, mail, pedicures, sick, etc. But with all our getting, get understanding.  a synonym for understanding is insight.  We need insight into the spiritual world around us.  We need to see more than the physical.  

Doctrine and Covenants 88:15 And the spirit and the body are the soul of man. - our souls are made up of our body and spirit.  Perhaps he is saying, don’t forget, you are more than just a body.  There is more to see than you can see with your physical eyes.  Perhaps getting understanding and insight into things that are spiritual is the essence of personal conversion.

Like I said, I loved my mission.   I experienced so many moments of personal conversion there.  It was a magical time of serving and reflecting.  Here is the story of one of those special moments.

I was called to be a Spanish speaking missionary in Guatemala  in the City North mission.  I’d been in there struggling to learn Spanish for 6 weeks when I was called to speak Kek’chi in a remote village in a valley several hours away from the capital.   This valley was so isolated that there was only one way in.  We were surrounded by mountains on both sides and the valley ended at an enormous lake.   Only the valley floor was passable by a chicken bus that went to the end of the road in the morning and returned in the late afternoon.   The round trip into the Polochic valley took about 6 hours.  The old chicken bus was the only way in or out of the area unless you happened upon a passing truck.   My companion was Hermana Lopez and she was an amazing missionary.  She was a native from Guatemala and so valiant and intelligent and obedient.  

One week Hermana Lopez and I were studying in first Nephi and were learning all about Nephi, Sam and Laman & Lemuel and we decided that Laman and Lemuel were complainers, whiners, lazy and disobedient and we didn’t want to be like them.  We decided Sam was a good guy but not quite as valiant as Nephi who was a hard worker, didn’t complain,  and was obedient in everything he was asked.  As we studied about these examples from the scriptures, we decided we wanted to be like Nephi.  We would be courageous and 100% obedient.  We would do everything right and God would bless us - we were sure.  So we began our quest for perfection:  We got up on time, we took our vitamins (because the mission nurse said it was a rule).  We did our exercises.  We said our prayers and did our studying and planning.  We were awesome and pumped to be just like Nephi.  

We set out that morning and hiked and hiked.  There were no roads besides the one on the valley floor - only footpaths thru endless cornfields.  We visited members, asked for referrals, talked to farmers on the side of the mountain as they worked their crops, and Searched out less actives, We did our best.  We worked very hard and we had a wonderful day.

We had hiked about 2 miles from our home down the valley and about a mile up into the mountain that day.  When we started for home,  Hermana Lopez slipped.  somehow she fell but her foot got caught and stayed where it was - the result was an ankle that instantly doubled in size and was terribly painful.  She couldn’t put any weight on it and we feared it was broken.  She was scared, it was getting late and we were far from home.   We knew our only hope was to get to the main road before the chicken bus passed.  She couldn’t walk so we alternated her hobbling and me piggy backing her down the mountain.  A kind farmer saw us and though unable to go with us, offered us his wheelbarrow.  Hermana Lopez climbed in and we hurried as fast as we could to get to the road.  In all the hurrying, she fell out several times and we alternated laughing and crying.    Within 100 yards or so of the road, we heard the bus coming.  I left her and ran the last bit to try and flag down the bus but I was too late, all I could see was the dust trail it had left behind.   Sad and a bit panicked, I ran back to my companion and we started the long wheelbarrow ride back to our hut.  It was a heartbreaking end to a day that started with such enthusiasm and hope.

We ate dinner and worried about her ankle.  We had no electricity, no phone, no ice to bring down the swelling.  We just had to wait till the next night and make sure we were there waiting when the bus came back thru so we could get her out of the valley and to the hospital.  We were dejected to say the least.  Hermana Lopez cried from pain and frustration and said, “So much for trying to be like Nephi!  Nephi never had to go thru something like this!”   We had a boo hoo session and then as we always did before bed, we got out our scriptures to read together.  Coincidentally, we happened to be in 1N chapter 18 and we read

 15 And it came to pass that we were about to be swallowed up in the depths of the sea. And after we had been driven back upon the waters for the space of four days, my brethren began to see that the judgments of God were upon them, and that they must perish save that they should repent of their iniquities; wherefore, they came unto me, and loosed the bands which were upon my wrists, and behold they had swollen exceedingly; and also mine ankles were much swollen, and great was the soreness thereof.

No joke.  You can’t make up stuff like that.  God truly has a sense of humor and sees us and hears us and loves us thru our trials.

I learned 4 important lessons that day as I read the Book of Mormon with my injured companion.  

1. Study and service make us feel great.  That day with Hermana Lopez was one of the greatest of my mission - I felt the Lord magnifying our efforts.  I felt the joy of obedience and hope.

2. I learned that effort, study and service do not exempt us from trials.  Think of Moses when God reveals himself to him.  Who followed?  Satan.  Not just satan but as it says in Moses 1: 21 & 22, a trembling loud, weeping wailing and teeth gnashing satan trying to deceive and overpower Moses.    Does this ever happen to you?

Think of Joseph Smith as he knelt in prayer before God and Christ appeared to him.  Joseph says I was seized upon by some power which entirely overcame me, and had such an astonishing influence over me as to bind my tongue so that I could not speak. Thick darkness gathered around me, and it seemed to me for a time as if I were doomed to sudden destruction.

Satan did all he could to interfere.  We are no different.  The harder we try - expect pushback from the adversary.  We used to tell our investigators, “Now when you commit to baptism, prepare for everything in the world to combine against you to keep you from making that commitment.”   That is proof it is from God or Satan wouldn’t try so hard to stop it. 

Not even Christ was exempt from endless harassing by Satan.  As if fasting for 40 days isn’t hard enough, Satan has to show up and tempt him to make bread?  

3. I learned that the scriptures offer us understanding and comfort no matter how unique our situation seems.  God knows us and has given us all we need to feel his love and comfort if we will turn to the scriptures.  The world’s comfort and counsel doesn’t hold a candle to what the Lord has given us.  I think those words of the prophets are magic.  They morph and change to comfort us and teach us when and how we need them.  Trust them, they are of God.

4. And lastly, I learned that God uses experiences (sometimes painful ones) to allow us moments of clarity.  Spiritual clarity.  That night in a hut in Guatemala, it was like I could see.  I understood God’s plan for me.  I could see that it is: studying and seeking truth and goodness that gives us a Godly perspective on this earthly experience.  I saw a glimpse of who I was and I knew God knew me personally.   I recognized that study and service hadn’t saved me from pain and hardship but had prepared me for spiritual clarity.  For personal conversion. 

I challenge you to seek moments of spiritual clarity and personal conversion often so that you can see how important you are to your Father in Heaven.   How important you are to your ward, to your community, to those you serve in your callings, to the family you home or visit teach, to your neighbors and most importantly, to your family.  You are needed.

I'll finish up with one of my favorite scriptures:

Doctrine and Covenants 6:34

34 Therefore, fear not, little flock; do good; let earth and hell combine against you, for if ye are built upon my rock, they cannot prevail.

My day in Guatemala did not end up how I planned.  But God turned my small plan into a lesson that will last my lifetime.

Christ is our rock.  All good things come from him.  As we learn of Him, as we emulate Him, we will see more clearly who we are and how we can follow Him. 

God sent me a duck

Ok - so here is the deal... the devil is real.  He has power and influence over me.  When I am just riding along, minding my own business, he usually leaves me alone but when I attempt to make a correction in my slightly off course path, he comes out of the woodwork and wreaks havoc in my head and my family and my life and my self worth.  Even though I recognize him in all of his evilness, the power he has over me is no less effective because of the recognition.  But God in all his mercy and wisdom never leaves us alone and shows us His goodness if we ask and seek and look.  So here is my latest evidence of this.

I had made some big changes, for me and my family.  They were hard and would require a lot of resolve, patience and determination to carry out.  All the arrangements were made and thats when the gates of hell opened to stop my progress.  I had the most overwhelming day.  Everything was awful.  The thoughts in my head were, "No one wants your help.  Stop trying.  Give up."  when that didn't work, they began, "You really have no friends.  Check your texts.  No one has texted you in days.  That's because they don't care about you.  You are always the one who is inviting, never the one being invited.  What must they think of you that the only time you do anything with anyone is when you organize it?" and it went on and on... messages similar to those came one after another and everything in my life was proving the voices right.  It was bombarding me.   I could mentally see what was happening but it began to get to me.  Then the evil one got my family in on it too... and everything they did pointed to my insignificance.  To my lack of importance.  To my aloneness.  No amount of understanding was changing the way I FELT.  I knew what was happening yet the feelings were overwhelming me.

I went to bed that night with all of this swirling in my brain.  I was full on under attack.  I couldn't stop the voices in my head.  They were screaming at me.  Trying to destroy me.  I cried myself to sleep feeling utterly alone.  I woke the next morning at 4 AM and the thoughts in my head began again.  They wouldn't stop and to add insult to injury, now I couldn't sleep either.  My head wouldn't shut up and I felt weighed down by the burden of my thoughts.  I got up and got dressed and left the house.  Sure no one would care or notice.  I got in the car and drove to the Riparian Preserve and sat on a bench in the dark.  Just me and my miserable thoughts.

In the dark before the sun rose, I could hear dozens of geese honking and making a ruckus.  They would all make a bunch of noise then take off together as a group.  A few minutes later, another group of birds would repeat the process.  Lots of noise (I guess to rally the group) then they would take off.  There were groups of birds everywhere repeating this scene.  Of course there were... someone was inviting all of them to take off but not me.  I was alone.  Sad and alone.

I sat there for an hour in the dark.  Crying and feeling sorry for myself.  No one was around till the sun began to rise and a group of 3 ladies came past me walking and chatting.  They didn't say anything to me.  In fact, they acted like I wasn't there.  Completely invisible.  Just like I felt...  My misery was unbearable and I cried.  Where were my friends?  Where was someone to call me?  Invite me?  Care about me?  My pity party was monumental.

I prayed that God would send me a sign that these voices that were working so hard to destroy my self esteem were wrong.  That I wasn't really alone.  That I mattered.  I cried that I didn't want to be alone.  That I needed some help.

Then I looked up and from across the lake I saw a single duck leave the group and swim the length of the lake over to me.  It took a while but slowly the duck made it to me.  The level of the water is a foot or two below the sidewalk where I sat so when the duck got to where I was sitting, I couldn't see it and it couldn't see me.  I could just see the top of its head as it swam back and forth in front of me.  Finally, it flew out of the water and up to the sidewalk in front of me.  It looked at me, took a few steps toward me and looked at me again and moved closer again till it was right in front of me - a foot or so away.  There we sat - just me and a duck.  Looking at each other.  That duck sat there with me for 20 minutes.  Just looking at me.  Seeing me.  Groups of birds honked and quacked and took off and flew away but not that duck.  The sun rose and the sky lit up but the duck stood right there watching me.  Who can be sad having a staring contest with a duck?  Really...?

So... some may say it was just a duck... I know that God's love comes in many shapes and sizes but for me, it came in the shape of a duck that day.  That wasn't really what I had wanted, but with the resources at hand, what was I expecting?  All I know is that thru a duck,  I felt His love.  I felt that in this whole big world of sadness and hurt, God saw me and my burden  and sent me a duck to comfort me.  It worked.  After 20 minutes, the duck silently turned around and hopped back in the water and swam to the other side of the lake again and disappeared into the reeds.

I went home comforted.  The grip the devil had on me had loosened.  I lifted my head up, went on with being who I am and doing what I am meant to do.   I felt seen, of worth, important.  I felt God's love for me.

If a duck could make such a difference in my struggle, how much difference could a real person make to one who is fighting demons that are real and powerful - bent set on demoralizing them when they have something important to do?

I guess the moral of my story is:  Be someone's duck.  You don't have to say a word.  Sometimes just seeing another person and being there is enough.

Value and Worth

A few weeks ago, we went to Lake Powell with some great friends.  We were there over the weekend so, on Sunday we boated into the marina and drove to church in Page.

I love to go to church no matter where I am but the reality of getting there always requires a  tremendous amount of effort.  It's painful...  Often the pushback I get from my family makes my goal of getting there seem like it isn't worth it...  But once I get there, it always is.

This day was like every other.  No one wanted to go.  Those who weren't actively protesting were passively protesting.  Life was painful.  Eventually we made it to the chapel in Page and settled in.   It was fast Sunday and after the Sacrament was passed there was sharing of testimonies.  It was a great meeting and I was particularly touched by one of the testimonies.

Another visitor stood and shared this story.

She had gone to the Louve (one of my favorite places) and she had gone on a tour with the docent.  The guide told them at the beginning of the tour that there are over 40,000 items on display at the museum and thousands more in storage waiting to be rotated in.  He commented that after seeing about 300-400 items (only about 1% of the museum's collection), people usually begin to wonder why certain items are there.   He said that the Louve is the MOST important museum in the world and if an item is on display there, it is because it is very important.  It has historical significance and is very valuable.  Then they began their tour.

After they had been touring for an hour or two, right on cue, a lady in her group began to be tired,  irritated, critical, and judgmental.   She saw something she just didn't think had importance that was significant enough to warrant a place in the Louve.   What's the point?  To her it seemed silly and unimportant.  She finally spoke up and said, "Why is this even here?!?  I just don't get it..."  The group paused and turned to the docent to hear his response.  He responded by saying, "Yah, but don't you wish you could?".

The woman's understanding or comprehension of the item's worth or significance didn't change it's value.  What a lesson to learn.   How many of us don't understand?  Don't get it?  Discount things of value because we don't understand?  We can't see so we don't value...  We don't get the signifigance so we don't see the worth...  We don't understand the context or history so it must be worthless...

I watch people around me everyday who mock what is of most worth to me - the gospel of Jesus Christ.   They discount it's value because they don't understand - they can't see or they don't want to see - they don't comprehend how things fit together so they decide the best way to combat what they don't comprehend is to criticize and complain.

It boggles my mind sometimes that things that are so plain and precious can be such a stumbling block and source of contention for others.  And at the same time, I wish I understood more... there are so many things I don't know.

I guess that is the point of my journey here - to learn enough, to understand enough, to see clearly enough so that I value what I have right in front of me - which is a beautiful world, a loving father in heaven, a plan to return to him thru Jesus Christ my Savior and a stewardship to help others see clearly too.  That I give worth to things that have eternal value and significance.

So the answer to the question, for me, is "YES!  I wish I could!"

I wish, with all my heart, that I could understand more than I do.   I wish so much that others could see that our understanding/comprehension of things does not add or subtract from it's true worth.  We cannot devalue the worth of something by simply saying it isn't important.  We cripple ourselves, hinder our own progress when we discredit things because we don't understand.

So it's worth it to me to struggle to get my family to church.  Sometimes I don't get it - why it has to be so hard but I know that in the end it is always worth it.  I don't get it either... a lot of the time but...

I wish I could.

So I will keep on trying until I do.

I am a Daughter

We go to Mexico every Fall Break and have for several years.  It is AWESOME!  We love the condo we rent at Sonoran Sea.  We love the mangos and surf, the friends and shared meals.  It is so fun.   We couldn't ever imagine a Fall Break without Mexico.  Until last year.  

The condo we stay in needs to be booked pretty quickly after we leave for the next year but when we checked out last year I go a NO GO feeling.   We went home and didn't book it.   Don't go...  A few months later some friends started reminding us to book it and we didn't.  Don't go...  I felt strongly that we shouldn't go.  A few months after that the families we usually go with began to put the pressure on and we began to feel pangs of remorse for not planning to go.  And still I felt we shouldn't go.  Such a strange sensation to want to do something and feel like you shouldn't but not understand why...

Finally James and I decided that if we weren't going to Mexico, maybe we could go to General conference.  That felt right.  We moved ahead with our plan.  As we moved ahead, we realized Tyler, my nephew, was going in the MTC the week we would be there.  So we would be there and so would my sister and her family who live in Tennessee.  My whole family would be in the same place at the same time.  That NEVER happens.  I talked to my dad about having a family reunion.  He agreed and we booked the Hobble Creek Lodge for the weekend.  Ironically enough, we ended up NOT going to Conference but enjoying a beautiful weekend together as a family.  We watched conference, paddled around in the canoe on the pond, took family pictures, cooked, played Scum, made a gratitude wall, had a talent show, and made memories.  

At the end of the weekend, Bumpa (my dad) let everyone know that he is ill with prostate cancer and that he will be having surgery in November.  It was so beautiful to have had that time together.  All of us.  At that moment it all made sense...  No Go.  We needed to be somewhere else and God knew that way before we did.  I was so grateful for the promptings and for the experience we were able to have as a family together.

When we left Utah, I hugged my dad and emotion filled up in me.  Gratitude for having such a wonderful man as my father and worry for his health.  I couldn't help the tears that began to fall.  It all just came gushing out.  And true to form, my dad had something ready to say.   He said, "Remember how I told you I read your blog? - I noticed that your title says, 'My name is Tricia.  I am a wife, a mother, a dancer, a writer, a photographer and a believer in Christ.'  You left something out.  Daughter.  You were my daughter first - before you were any of those other things.  Will you do me a favor when you get home and fix your blog so it includes daughter?"    

Yah... that didn't help me stop crying....  But true to my word I am changing it to include the word daughter because that was the first thing I was.  And maybe all the other things I am are because of it.  I guess I do owe who I am today to being a daughter.  I am the daughter of AMAZING parents.  I am sure not everything was perfect in my childhood home but the overall feeling I get when I reflect on the job my parents did is Goodness.  My life has been good and I have been able to grow and stretch and become who I am because of the home they gave me.  There is a lot of them in me. 

I used to think I was just like my mom - artistic, creative and energetic.  But the older I get, the more I recognize my dads characteristics in myself.  Resourcefulness, persistence, and science minded.  If I could go back to college again, I think I would study the physical sciences - physics, geology, astronomy.   There is a lot of my dad in me because I am his.  I am also a daughter of God.  There is something of Him in me because I am His as well.  I don't always notice it but the older I get, the more I notice that there are parts of me that I can't explain - and my hope is that I not only become like my earthly father but my Father in Heaven as well. 

So who am I?

'My name is Tricia.  I am a daughter, a wife, a mother, a dancer, a writer, a photographer and a believer in Christ.'  

Such a long time ago... I almost forgot but the first thing I ever was, was a daughter.  Thanks Dad.

Books, Grace and Mercy

I love my book club. Amy Seiter and I started it almost 14 years ago. Over the years we have laughed and cried together and discussed SO many books. Every September we have a retreat to pick 11 new books for the year. We work really hard to read lots of different genres. From Classics to Historical Fiction to Self Help and Mysteries, we read it all. Some are better than others because truly, some books are life changers and others are just reading candy. 

A while back, we decided to read the unabridged version of Les Mis. I got it and read and read and read and barely made a dent in the epic work. But I did discover more depth in the pre story of how Jean Val Jean got to where he was and I’ve been thinking a lot about the story ever since… In the story, a guy named Jean ValJean is a young man and steals a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s starving children. He is caught and put in jail for 5 years. He tries to escape and is caught and given an additional 14 years in prison. After 19 years of brutally horrible imprisonment, he is released as a parolle with no hope. No one will hire him. It is winter. He is freezing and starving. He is found by a Catholic bishop who invites him in for dinner and a place to sleep out of the cold. Jean is almost out of his mind with hunger and ravenously eats. That night, out of desperation, lack of hope and fear, Jean steals the Priest’s silver and sets of into the night. He is quickly caught and violently returned to the bishop by a pompous officer wanting praise for returning a criminal and his loot. When the bishop sees Jean, he has compassion on him and extends to him 2 things: Mercy and Grace. In the Les Mis musical the Bishop tells Jean,

But my friend you left so early

Surely something slipped your mind.

You forgot… I gave these (his candlesticks) also;

Would you leave the best behind?

So messieurs, release him

This man has spoken true.

I commend you for your duty

And God's blessing go with you.

Mercy - Avoiding a punishment that you DO deserve.

Grace - Receiving a blessing that you do NOT deserve.

The bishop gave Jean both.  He allowed him to avoid the punishment of the rest of his life in prison (which was the penalty for stealing again).  And he gave him the blessing of the rest of his silver though he clearly didn’t deserve it.  But the bishop didn’t do this just for fun - he had a reason.  The bishop says, 

But remember this, my brother,

See in this some higher plan.

You must use this precious silver

To become an honest man.

By the witness of the martyrs,

By the passion and the blood,

God has raised you out of darkness:

I have saved your soul for God.

When I thought about this whole scene, I thought of how much it is like us and Christ.  Just as the bishop allowed Jean ValJean to avoid a punishment that he DID deserve (going back to jail for stealing), Christ allows us to avoid punishment for our sins by allowing us to repent and he will pay the price for them.

Just as the bishop gave Jean ValJean a blessing he did NOT deserve (the silver), Christ gives us the gift of salvation even though we could never be worthy of it.  Even if we worked 24 hours a day, every day, our efforts still wouldn’t be enough…

Just as the bishop bought (redeemed) Jean ValJean’s life with the price of his silver, Christ has bought us (redeemed us) with the price of his life.  I’m not sure why I never saw this correlation before (I’ve read the book and seen the play several times!) but I’ve been studying a lot about Grace lately and the meaning and symbolism of this scene really hit home.  

Jean didn’t earn the bishops grace & mercy.  We don’t EARN mercy and grace.  They are free gifts.  It is merely our choice to act upon them….or not.  Jean ValJean could have carried on being a thief just like we can continue on in sin and worldliness.  Or we (like Jean ValJean) can recognize the amazing gift/opportunity that has been given to us.  

He had to start over and choose to accept what the bishop had given him.  That made me wonder, What saves?  What saved Jean?  Was it his worthiness?  No.  

What saves us?  Is it our worthiness?  Is it our acts?  Going to church every week?  Reading our scriptures, Serving missions?  Taking the sacrament?

No.  It is the benevolent gift of our Savior.  We can never be worthy of his mercy or grace, yet he gives it anyway.  It is thru him we are given the opportunity to hold on to what we have already been given - the opportunity for Salvation.  We must react to that gift.  Embrace it.  Let it change us.  Dedicate ourselves to following Christ.

Salvation only comes thru Christ:

2N 2:3 ….Wherefore, I know that thou art redeemed, because of the righteousness of thy Redeemer

2N 10: 24 Wherefore, my beloved brethren, reconcile yourselves to the will of God, and not to the will of the devil and the flesh; and remember, after ye are reconciled unto God, that it is only in and through the grace of God that ye are saved.

2N 2: 8   …there is no flesh that can dwell in the presence of God, save it be through the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah

Moroni 6:4   …relying alone upon the merits of Christ

Alma 22:14    And since man had fallen he could not merit anything of himself; but the sufferings and death of Christ atone for their sins

I love what Jean ValJean say when he leaves the bishop and the reality of what has just happened sinks in.  These words are awesome…

What have I done,

Sweet Jesus, what have I done?

Become a thief in the night

Become a dog on the run

And have I fallen so far

And as the hour so late

That nothing remains but the cry of my hate

The cries in the dark that nobody hears

Here where I stand at the turning of the years

(He recognizes that he is so unworthy, so far astray.  Just like us…)

If there's another way to go

I missed it twenty long years ago

My life was a war that could never be won

They gave me a number and they murdered Valjean

When they chained me and left me for dead

Just for stealing a mouthful of bread

(He questions and justifies who he has become.  We all have reasons we are not who we should be or wish we could be or know that we can become.  But he has a choice to make - we all do.  Do we allow Christ to touch us?  Teach us love?  Give us truth?  Call us brother/sister?  Claim us for God?  Is it all really possible?  Can he/we shake the life we have known for something better?)

Yet why did I allow this man

to touch my soul and teach me love?

He treated me like any other

He gave me his trust

He called me brother

My life he claims for God above

Can such things be?

For I had come to hate the world

This world that always hated me

Take an eye for an eye

Turn your heart into stone

This is all I have lived for

This is all I have known

He realizes the gravity of his situation in a new way.  Terror strikes him at what he was headed for.  He feels shame and remorse.

One word from him and I'd be back

beneath the lash, upon the rack (the rack was a torture device in the 1800’s)

Instead he offers me my freedom

I feel my shame inside me like a knife

He is touched by the strength of the Bishops faith.  But has so little himself that he can hardly believe him.

He told me that I have a soul

How does he know?

What spirit comes to move my life

Is there another way to go?

(He realizes there is more to know than what he knows.  I know there is SO much more than we know…. To know we must fall.  Fall away from sin and begin anew in Christ.)

I am reaching, but I fall

and the night is closing in

As I stare into the void

to the whirlpool of my sin

I'll escape now from that world

From the world of Jean Valjean

Jean Valjean is nothing now

Another story must begin!

I love when I find such a strong testimony of Christ and his purpose in the most unlikely places.  Victor Hugo wrote Les Miserables in 1862 in France.   Truth is truth no matter where it is found.  All things testify of Christ if we look closely.   Sometimes we can't see the truth at first glance or first read... often for me, it is not till much later that I can see God’s hand in something.  I think that is probably what the temple is like too.  We are there and see and hear over and over again and then one day it is there!  We see it.  A piece of truth we never noticed before.  Something that testifies to our soul in a way it couldn’t have until we were prepared to see it.    

So thank you book club ladies for choosing a book I needed to read to understand a concept that I thought I already understood.  There's nothing like a new book to open your eyes.

Had we not been there - God knows where we need to be way before we do - Part II

Saturday I was asked to chaperone an activity for Ben Franklin High School where my twins go.  I was excited and took Hailey to help chaperone.  It was hardly chaperoning as the kids were awesome and respectful and kind.  We floated, ate, talked, cliff jumped and floated some more.  At the end of the day, I told the kids that I wanted to float one more time and so any who wanted to float again needed to be ahead of me on the river so I could make sure all kids were out.

As we were floating, I noticed a group of 6 or 7 kids hop in behind me about 100 yards.  We were floating a private part of the river and no one but us had been there all day so I assumed they were part of our group.  At the end of the float, I was waiting for those kids.  As I waited in my tube with Hailey, I decided to go to the middle of the river and rinse the pebbles out of my swimming suit bottoms.  The current was super strong and if I put my hands under the water to mess with my suit, it would knock me over.  I struggled to stay upright but the waist deep water felt so nice that I hung out there for a bit.

As I did, I watched a mom and dad and 2 little kids approach the river.  The dad was clearly intoxicated and was standing on the shore with a toddler.  The mom (who we later realized had been drinking as well) wanted to be in the water and began to enter the current with the little girl (about 9 yrs old).  The girl was petrified and crying that she didn't want to go.  The mom tugged on her and they began to wade in despite the child's protests.  They were facing the current just like me  but were farther downstream at the point where the water got very deep and the river made a turn.  In this spot the river gets 3-4 times wider than where we were.  Suddenly, the panicked little girl, who clearly couldn't swim, fell and banged into her mom's legs, knocking her off her feet.  She struggled to regain her footing but was quickly swept into deep water.  Unable to reach to stand up and fighting a panicked child, she hollered for her husband.  He left the baby and ran into the water.  All three struggled to keep the little girl afloat but she was pulling them under and they were being swept farther and farther into open water.

I yelled for Hailey to throw me my tube and I hurled it as far as I could.  It only made it halfway to the family.  The mom left the dad and girl and swam towards the tube.  She and I reached the tube at the same time and she grabbed on and began using it to float.  I urged her to let go of the tube so I could get it to her husband who was mostly submerged and struggling under the weight of their frantic child.  She said she would take it to them but she made no progress.  In a panic, I told her to let go and swim to shore but she wouldn't.  I looked over at the dad who was now underwater and only surfacing rarely and realized that he would drown before she could get it to him.  I urged her again to let go and she hesitated.  I pushed her arm off the tube and swam with it as fast as I could to the other two.

By the time I got to them, the child was hysterical and the dad was coughing and choking.  It was terrifying.  The little girl continued to struggle and fight us.  I finally layed on the tube and pulled her by her shorts onto it.  At this point, she finally stopped struggling and just cried.  The current continued to carry us farther into the bend of the river and the dad was exhausted and completely spent (not to mention drunk).  I had to swim harder than I have ever swam to get us out of the current and the long upstream swim back.  By the time we reached the shore I was exhausted.  Hailey was luckily there to hold & comfort the toddler who was upset and crying.  I sat on the shore for a couple minutes to catch my breath.  The family never said a word to me.  Not one word.   Maybe they were embarrassed, maybe they didn't want us to notice they were drunk, I'm not sure.  We picked up our tubes and walked back to the bus.  It took about 20 mins for the adrenaline in my body to stop making me shake.

It makes me cringe to think what could have happened if we had not been there.

I'm not sure if they will even remember what happened tomorrow, but I will.

What I learned:

God knows where we need to be way before we do.

God loves people even when they are making stupid decisions.