Remembering

My mother sent me a letter on my mission in which she wrote, "You have the ability to glean a lot of wisdom from everyday experiences." I've often believed this to be one of the greatest compliments I've ever been paid, and a fortunate byproduct of my unfortunate tendency to overthink everything. In my mission journal and my letters home, my hands would ache and time would run out long before I was finished telling what I had observed, and how it had changed me. 

This month in youth Sunday School, the kids are talking about ordinances and covenants. The lesson outlines aren't as clearly delineated from one another as they seemed to be last month, and there is a lot of redundancy built in. The result is that I've read many conference talks this month on the sacrament. The recurring theme I have noticed over and over is the idea of "remembering." I was pondering this word a lot on Sunday. During my lesson, the Spirit was very strong, and the kids were really getting it. I don't know that they were a lot more forthcoming than usual, but there was a definite difference. They were more attentive, brows were more furrowed, and there were even a few glistening eyes. Then, boom, without it being according to plan, there was an account from my mission I felt impressed to share. It was a little thing really, seemingly unimportant, but somehow it was exactly the right thing at the right moment. It was a thing that hadn't been part of my preparation or even conscious thought for some years.

But it was a thing that helped my precious young class to see that their gospel preparation and knowledge is serious . . . and those years between baptism and the temple are vital. The moment was sublime and reminded me of every good reason we come to Church. I felt humbled and grateful that the Lord had put me in a place where I might make a difference.

And I understood something I've never quite seen before. 

Though it doesn't appear on any list, remembering, in its many and varied form, is itself a gift of the Spirit. Remembrance takes so many forms and meanings, each of them vital to gospel living. 

Remembering past blessings makes us grateful and humble.

Remembering is how we keep our covenants as we take the sacrament.

Remembering the Savior gives us the integrity to keep our covenants when we are away from Church.

Remembering our own weaknesses can keep us from judging others.

Remembering our ancestors helps us honor our religion and our liberty.

Remembering preserves our spiritual and familial traditions. 

My simple, unheralded event from my mission, came back to my memory in the very moment that my class needed to hear the words. If this is not the Spirit working, then I don't know what is. When I teach my class this week, I am going to ask them to pray with all the energy of their hearts that the Spirit will bless them with remembrance, so that it will be a shield and a protection to them against a world where everything changes and drifts into decay. 

In the words of Teryl Givens:

"I believe remembering can be the highest form of devotion. To remember is to rescue the sacred from the vacuum of oblivion. To remember Christ’s sacrifice every Sunday at the sacrament table, is to say “no” to the ravages of time; to refuse to allow his supernal sacrifice to be just another datum in the catalogue of what is past. To remember past blessings is to give continuing recognition of the gift, and re-confirm the relationship to the Giver as one that persists in the here and now. Few-very few-are entirely bereft of at least one solace giving-memory. A childhood prayer answered, a testimony borne long ago, a fleeting moment of perfect peace. And for those few who despairingly insist they have never heard so much as a whisper, then know this: We don’t need to look for a burning bush, when all we need is to be still and remember that we have known the goodness of love, the rightness of virtue, the nobility of kindness and faithfulness. And ask if we see in such beauties the random effects of Darwinian products, or can we not perceive in them the handwriting of God on our hearts?"

That almost sounds like poetry to me. 

Control

The other day on Facebook I saw a quote that somebody had posted related to the way we should live our lives. You know, one of those things in a cheezy font with a soothing picture. It went like this, "The reason many people in our society are miserable, sick, and highly stressed is because of an unhealthy attachment to things they have no control over.”

It is an interesting idea, and probably worth looking at a little bit more closely. 

First of all, I don't really think that our life is meant to be some never-ending bliss. I don't think think that God intends for us to be uptight and unhappy all the time, of course, but years ago Elder Maxwell coined the term "divine discontent" that I find very apropos.  To me, divine discontent is like the voice of Mufasa whispering from beyond the veil, "You are more than you have become . . . remember!" It is through our falling down and rising again, our righteous ambitions, our trying just a little bit harder to love a little bit more that we remember who we are. Sometimes this causes a little bit of stress. After all, isn't stress that gap between where we are and where we want to be?

Don't get me wrong. I think we need to be very honest about running-faster-than-we-have-strength. I am very bad at this. But there is a big difference between accepting that we cannot affect the outcome of every situation and ceasing to try affecting any outcome at all. 

I have always been a Type A personality. Here is some insight into that: I told Plantboy the other day that it was going to a huge adjustment for me to begin using my Franklin-Covey planner as an app in my iPad instead of a physical book, because I had been carrying one for 25 years. He looked at me a bit askance . . . 25 years?  Yes, that's right. I started carrying my first planner when I was 13. It is in my nature to attempt to control nearly everything.

I went through a phase in my 20's when I hated this about myself. Everyone seemed more relaxed. More happy. More able to go with the flow. Etc. Etc. I was convinced that it was this thing about me that had broken off my first engagement. I sometimes feared it would prevent me from ever finding happiness in my marriage. Of course, this self-loathing was exacerbating my stress.

One day, after a very long talk with my mother, I had a revelation of sorts. It seemed that the thing to do was embrace my personality as it was instead of forever trying to change it. And something remarkable happened. I saw that it was this part of me that had given me the ability to work very hard as a missionary, to finish college and be so successful in my chosen career. It was this thing that allowed me to juggle so much and help others. It was this part of me that made me reliable and  dependable. I accepted the level of stress that came with who I am fundamentally, and began to understand what it takes for me to manage that stress.

Back to the control issue. After a YW program I was a part of some time ago, a woman in our group (decidedly not Type A) spoke with a great deal of enthusiasm after the project was over about how God always steps up and makes these things good. Her comment gave me great pause as I thought about all the hours I (and others) had put in to make the program successful. While I agreed with her that the Lord had sanctified our performance and had blessed us with the Holy Ghost that night, I didn't agree that God would have done so had our preparation been faulty, or less than all we had to give. 

So over the years I've learned that I can control the level of service I give to a thing . . . and that the more I'm willing to give the better it often turns out. Particularly if I have served prayerfully. I have learned that great and loving volunteers can make a whole school, and by extension a community, a better place. I've learned that I have a large deal of control (or at least influence) in my own home regarding a whole host of things--from my children's nutrition to their spiritual insights to their attitudes. I have a lot of control over my husband's happiness. Their behavior out "there" reflects pretty well what we are doing in here. And yet, keeping a clean home, making sure homework is done, driving them places, attending all our church meetings, fixing healthy meals (you know the drill) causes stress and wears me down. Perhaps this is my basic personality. Perhaps it is just life.

The idea that I could somehow have less stress by giving up on a lot of this because I cannot control how my children turn out is ludicrous to me. When it comes to it, I cannot make their choices for them, but I can help them to come from a place where they understand fully the paths in front of them and understand about revelation that will lead them to the right path. On paper it looks like such a simple thing. In practice, creating the childhood and community you want for your children is a daily battle between what is easy and what is right. Where you are, and where you want to be. It is stressful. I wonder if it is supposed to be.

If you haven't yet read "Letter to a Doubter" by Terryl Givens, you really should. This excerpt occurs near the end, 

"The option to believe must appear on one’s personal horizon like the fruit of paradise, perched precariously between sets of demands held in dynamic tension. Fortunately, in this world, one is always provided with sufficient materials out of which to fashion a life of credible conviction or dismissive denial. We are acted upon, in other words, by appeals to our personal values, our yearnings, our fears, our appetites, and our egos. What we choose to embrace, to be responsive to, is the purest reflection of who we are and what we love. That is why faith, the choice to believe, is, in the final analysis, an action that is positively laden with moral significance.

"The call to faith, in this light, is not some test of a coy god, waiting to see if we “get it right.” It is the only summons, issued under the only conditions, which can allow us fully to reveal who we are, what we most love, and what we most devoutly desire. Without constraint, without any form of mental compulsion, the act of belief becomes the freest possible projection of what resides in our hearts. Like the poet’s image of a church bell that only reveals its latent music when struck, or a dragonfly that only flames forth its beauty in flight, so does the content of a human heart lie buried until action calls it forth. The greatest act of self-revelation occurs when we choose what we will believe, in that space of freedom that exists between knowing that a thing is, and knowing that a thing is not."

More than any other thing I've ever read that helps me to understand what God meant when he told Abraham that we would be "proved herewith." It isn't a test just to mess with us because God is powerful enough to do it. It is our chance to demonstrate our deepest desires and yearnings. Our choices are a chance to reveal our innermost self. Our choice to faith, to action, to attempt to exert some influence on the world around us when all the logic and darkness and natural-man-ness says it is just easier to give up control and be stress-free.

I choose action. And for me that means an acceptance of stress. For me to be otherwise is to shut that voice from the other side of the veil that is constantly calling me to look up and remember.

Works Without Faith Is Dead

No, you didn't read the post title incorrectly. This was actually said to me many years ago, and a  discussion over at Times and Seasons this morning has brought if forcefully back to me today.

Some context.

I had been a missionary for six months, but I had not seen anyone get baptized yet. Nor had anyone been baptized that I had taught. I had met lots of remarkable people, been in lots of powerful teaching situations and even extended invitations to be baptized. I felt like I was growing personally and that my experience was valuable, but in a culture that (sometimes unfortunately) favors counting converts, I was beginning to feel like a bit of a failure. Even as my reputation for hard work and gifted teaching grew, I questioned my purpose. 

Overlaid with these feelings were other things. I was training a remarkably faithful companion and worried that I was failing her. It was hot and our area was very hilly. We rode bikes daily and I never stopped sweating. My lovely companion's English was not proficient enough to converse easily (and I never learned more than "Called to Serve" in Japanese), and I would some times go hours on end without speaking to anyone. We tracted up to 8 hours a day. I was so stressed on every level that hadn't menstruated in seven months. I felt deep, depressing sorrow for the unwillingness of people to change or even acknowledge the existence of God.

In the midst of all this we held yet another Zone Development Meeting. My feelings about these types of meetings were mixed. Occasionally I would feel the Spirit in a really great discourse, but too often they were merely pep talks for unmotivated missionaries and usually carried an unhealthy obsession with numbers. Elder Wilson, our boyish and smirky ZL spoke from James about how faith without works was dead.

I felt . . . 

Angry.

I was working. I was working so hard that my feet and back ached all the time. I was working so hard that college seemed like a distant vacation. I was desperate and depressed and didn't know how to do anything but work. My homesickness came back in spades as my mind often wandered to the budding romance I'd been involved in the year previously.

I had been told so many times that hard work was the key to success in missionary work, and yet there I was, working as hard as I knew how to work and having no outward sign of what counted for success in missionary work. I tuned out the talk, not listening for any message it, of the ZL might have to teach. No doubt my mind drifted to new places we might still have to tract, or streets we could re-tract or members we might bother about their friends.

At the close of the meeting, the ZL asked if he and his companion could come work in our area the following day. This is kind of a weird mission practice that will probably fade away as more sisters have opportunity for leadership positions. The way this worked in our mission is that leaders would come and visit for the day. They studied with us in the morning and then we would tract together, but nobody was ever quite sure how this was meant to work. This particular leader had us all walk together on one side of the street but three of us would go to the door at a time, to be less intimidating than four of us, I suppose. I really hated it; it made me feel like a Jehovah's Witness or something. Anyway, Elder Wilson and his companion came the next day, a thing I never looked forward to. (Probably because the first time he came he asked why we didn't make them pancakes like the other sisters always used to. I told him that we were too busy doing missionary work to worry about whether or not he'd had breakfast.)

While we were at one of our weird polygamy (one elder, two sisters) door knocks, Elder Wilson told me that he knew the ZDM the day before had been worthless to me. He said that he felt stupid standing up there telling me to work harder when I knew how to work harder than any elder he'd ever met. Then he said this, "But Sister, works without faith is also dead. So I have to ask you. How is your faith?"

I burst into tears.

After I had reinforced to him every stereotype he held about sister missionaries I calmed down enough to tell him that I wasn't even sure what the question meant. That I didn't really even know what faith was. To me, faith meant working and working and working. 

He told me that I had done enough.

I told him that we must not have, because why weren't we seeing more blessings?

He then explained something to me that I have never forgotten. Or at least the essence of it; no doubt the lesson he taught me that day has been colored by my own experience over the years. He told me that by always believing I needed to do more and more, I was putting all the responsibility for conversion squarely on my own shoulders. I needed instead to get on my knees and tell the Lord that we had done all He had asked and now we expected the blessings.

His phrase "expect the blessings," sort of terrified me. I was raised with a deep hatred of any form of entitlement and to my 21 year old self, this "expecting the blessings' is exactly what that looked like. But something about his earnestness, and his insight into my problem, deeply impressed me, and so I tried it.

I got on my knees that night and with many more tears told the Lord I had done all I could and that we expected Him to bless us. 

In the following weeks, everything changed. It wasn't just that there were some baptisms, though there were, by I changed too. I felt more deep and genuine love for the people. I felt excited to get out of bed each morning. I worked as hard as ever, but that weighing weariness wasn't ever-present. I turned more of my sorrow for the sins of the world over to Christ. That spring I sang The Spirit of God with the Saints as we gathered one Sunday. The third verse where it says, "That we through our faith may begin to inherit/the visions and blessings and glories of God" was impossible for me to sing through the deep emotions that filled very part of me. I had caught the barest vision of what faith was. 

You see, I had begun to understand that when my works were performed with the wrong motivation, I didn't allow the Lord to bless me. I had been motivated by some very good things--a heavy sense of responsibility to the Lord for my blessings, a desire to keep my covenants and do my duty, a genuine desire to bring the gospel to others, cultural obligations, etc. etc. But I somehow had it all wrong. The Lord wants to bless us and to give us that peace that passeth all understanding, but He wants us to love Him and to stop trying so hard to do everything ourselves. I still believe that faith VERSUS works is a false dichotomy; and I said as much at Times and Seasons today, but what motivates our work is very important.

Plantboy has been reminding me of this again lately. I am fearful as Jedi Knight prepares for middle school in a few months. I am afraid that we live in the wrong ward . . . or the wrong neighborhood. That we are going to the wrong schools. Etc. Etc. But Plantboy talks instead about having faith and says that we are doing everything we can to keep our covenants, to follow our callings, to show the compassion for others the Lords wants so much, and to truly love the Lord. He looked me in the eye the other night and was blunt, "The Lord doesn't want the boys to fail any more than we do. We must expect Him to bless us."  He is right. I must keep my covenants because I love the Lord and then I must count on Him to take care of the details.

The Collective

Let's talk about Ayn Rand today, shall we?

Her's is a name we hear sometimes, often associated with her two most famous works "The Fountainhead" and "Atlas Shrugged." It is a name that might come up occasionally in the next few months, as Paul Ryan (VP candidate) has sometimes said he is an ardent supporter. He has dramatically changed his tune in the last few months, citing his reported support of her philosophy as an "urban legend." However, in remarks made a few years ago to a society dedicated to her teachings he is on record as saying, "I grew up reading Ayn Rand and it taught me quite a bit about who I am and what my value systems are and what my beliefs are. It has inspired me so much that it's required reading in my office for all my interns and staff . . . ." (It isn't clear which novel/pamphlet he is referencing there) ". . . . The reason I got involved in public service, by and large, if I had to credit one thinker, one person, it would be Ayn Rand. And the fight we are in here, make no mistake about it, is a fight of individualism versus collectivism."  

So why is it important now that he distance himself? After all, what he said there merely points to an over-riding philosophy of individual rights versus collective good--the very debate many politicians wish to frame right now. (Aside: the weird thing is, of course, that which side a politician is on depends on the issue. Democrats want individual rights when it comes to marriage, reproduction, privacy, and actual, you know, individuals, etc. Republicans want individual rights when it comes wealth, business practice and, you know, corporations recognized as individuals, etc. So neither side really has a very good claim to individualism vs. collectivism. End aside.) Why is he so antsy?

Well, quite simply, Ayn Rand's fundamental philosophy, without apology, is anti-Christ. She rejected Communist economic theory wholly and completely when she immigrated to the United States (with childhood scars over her parents' crushed entrepreneurial hopes). What she did not reject, however, was the Marxist assertion that "religion was the opiate of the people." But whereas Marx believed that perfect, collective government control was the antidote to religion, Rand asserted that the real antidote was pure, unbridled capitalism where self-interest was the most important value.

Lest you fear my own progressive tendencies have caused me to misread Ms. Rand, here are a few more famous quotes/anecdotes.plots:

Her first novel was quite widely-read, though very controversial, and made into a movie. She was very angry when the following line was cut from the climax scene, because she found it the most important line her protagonist had to say, "I wish to come here and say that I am a man who does not exist for others." 

"Achievement of your happiness is the only moral purpose of your life, and that happiness, not pain or mindless self-indulgence is the proof of your moral integrity, since it is the proof and the result of your loyalty to the achievement of your values."

"From the smallest necessity to the highest religious abstraction, from the wheel to the skyscraper, everything we are and everything we have comes from one attribute of man--the function of the reasoning mind."

"I swear, by my life and my love of it, that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine."

"If any civilization is to survive, it is the morality of altruism that men have to reject."

She condemned much of our great and classic Western literature and proved herself to be rather poorly read, much more interested in movies than books. She descried Anna Karenina as the most "evil book in serious literature." 

One of her novels refers to people outside free-market entrepreneurs as "moochers," "looters," and "college-infected parasites." 

Her first novel is about a man who is uninterested in money, only in preserving the integrity of his ideas. She drops this pretense by the second novel and casts millionaires, barons and tycoons as her protagonists, portraying them as the true oppressed minority.

It seems she followed her philosophy of self-interest to the end: she lived in an open marriage (with a long and well-known affair with one of her many acolytes who headed up what he ironically called a "collective" of her worshipers), isolated herself from anyone who bothered or disagreed with her, cut-off relationship after relationship with those who might have helped her. What she never did was start a business. Hmmm.

Am I cherry-picking? Of course. I am making a point. Liberals have sometimes quoted her too when it comes to individual rights and choice and privacy. She is the mother of Libertarianism, and in times past, libertarians were as likely to vote Democratic as Republican. Part of the difficulty in the Republican party of late is the very real distance between pure Libertarians and the Christian right. One side would legislate nothing, the other side would legislate nothing but morality. 

So what is the point? I think Rand's overriding philosophy is inherently dangerous and at odds with true Christianity. Has she said some good things? Certainly. In thousands of written (rambling) pages even somebody like Rand might stumble on some truth. My deep dislike of her philosophy is personal too. I must admit to carrying deep resentment of anybody who says that somebody is "too smart to be a Christian." It is at that moment I need to repeat the mantra: charity never judgeth, charity never judgeth . . . .

To conclude I'd like to contrast two quotes. The first is from Rand who said this, "It only stands to reason that when there's sacrifice, there's someone collecting the sacrificial offerings. Where there is service, there is someone being served. The man who speaks to you of sacrifice is speaking of slaves and masters, and intends to be the masters." Rand was speaking of both government and God. Don't get me wrong, I have no delusions that the government has as much right as God to demand sacrifice. My argument is that any philosophy that leads us to believe that all forms of sacrifice (yes, even taxes) are wrong, eventually will lead us away from God too. When we are led away from God, we cease to love our fellow man. Here is the second quote, from Joseph Smith, " a religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things never has the power sufficient to produce the faith necessary unto life and salvation." 

When Plantboy and I were married, we were told that marriage over the altar symbolized the need to lay all we are on the altar of sacrifice for the good of our partner and our family. Rand's philosophy would have us take and take and take and find all our happiness in serving only our own self-interest. To use our agency to glorify only ourselves. Christ taught the opposite: to give and give and give and find all our happiness in service to God by serving others. To give our agency back to God and glorify Him.

I'm not saying I have arrived there by any stretch of the imagination, but I think I have a clear idea which direction I would like to be headed. And in the short term, that most decidedly means NOT voting for a candidate who EVER said his philosophy was primarily influenced by Rand. To now say otherwise is a flip-flop that should make even Romney blush.

Too Much?

I know that we are supposed to always serve joyfully. Whenever and whatever asked.

Lately I've been struggling with that.

I recognize that some of this is of my own making. My involvement in last night's Pinewood Derby is a case in point--I wanted it to be nice for my own kid and took too much on myself that might have been easily and (equally successfully) delegated. There are areas to simplify my own service and if I'm not happy then I can see places I need to make changes.

My husband on the other hand ends up a little bit more stuck than I do. He is the Elders' Quorum President and I'm surprised by how much of his calling-time is made up of things that others need/ask/want him to do. Outside of his regular meetings he ends up doing a lot of visiting--either as a stand-in Home Teaching companion or with his presidency to get to families that haven't been visited in many months. He does exchanges with the missionaries and teaches the quorum on a regular basis. This is in addition to his regular home teaching route. This spring, in the last month or two on Saturdays, he's been to three moves and been the only one from our ward to show up at a service assignment at the stake camp, He also had to work one Saturday. Not long ago I heard him pray for a Saturday to open up so he could get his stuff done around the house. Not fun stuff, mind you . . . mostly stuff for me.

He has planned to rip out the floor and toilet in our bathroom, and last Saturday finally was free for him to do it. In the middle of the week he checked an email message that had come through the previous Saturday (he doesn't check his email very often.) It was a "reminder" that his Elders' Quorum was responsible for taking down the Stake Relief Society activity in the middle of the day on Saturday! He contacted the person and asked her how on earth it could be a reminder when this was the first he'd heard of it. She explained that she is a fairly new secretary and that she was told that there was an assignment calendar that was supposed to be good through 2017 (!!) and somehow none of the current EQ presidents seemed to have a copy of it.

Plantboy sent out the word to his email group--a mixed response proposition at best and said to me with a tired sigh, "I thought the whole point of those round tables was that sisters were supposed to be able to set them up and take them down on their own?" I had heard this somewhere once myself.

I was reminded of being in the young women's and being constantly bombarded with service requests--can't the girls just volunteer to babysit for such-and-such activity? For couples to go to the temple? Won't the girls serve at the Christmas dinner? We know there is an activity, church and fireside this week but we also need them on Thursday night to hold a meeting about. . . . You get the gist. I sometimes felt that the girls ended up so over-committed because they were seen as perpetually available and willing to those not in their lives.

I recognize that some of what my husband has going on is directly related to the fact that our ward experiences a particularly low activity rate--something perhaps most pronounced among the elders. He can't compel them to serve, of course, nor can he seem to stop the constant bombardment of requests to do more service.

So here are the questions I have. When is it okay to say "no?" Is it okay to say it even if you know it means that something won't be accomplished? Something somebody else views as really important? When we raise hands to sustain somebody, what is the extent of that? Does it mean that I need to babysit for a friend whose husband is out of town nearly every week when she is supposed to be at Young Women's? Even if being asked to do so makes me wonder why she said yes/was asked in the first place? When does all the doing take away from the "why" of the Gospel?

Just in case you were wondering: Plantboy did not help on Saturday, and only two men showed up to help. I didn't go to the RS activity: I chose to spend the afternoon working on scrapbooks with a friend. When we got to Church on Sunday we realized that we had forgotten a building-cleaning assignment. The reminder had come in the mail Friday, which I had failed to check.

The Story Isn't Yet Written

Though I have a lot of thoughts I would like to share (most of which originated with listening to the FAIR podcast over the last few weeks), I will narrow the focus here in an attempt to get these thoughts out so I can move on to my homework!

At the temple on Saturday I saw a woman at her locker who was very  obviously pregnant. She asked me for a favor and when I said yes, she turned around and asked if I would zip up her dress. I chuckled and said that I would and asked her how far along she was.

"32 weeks. It might be my last time here for a while."

"In this dress, I think you are right!" We both laughed as I wrenched the zipper and she explained that she was having a third boy. I empathized and as I finished zipping I noticed a large-ish, faded, though once brightly-colored tattoo between this sister's shoulder blades. Her temple dress just barely covered it. She smiled, thanked me, and moved on.

And it was at that moment that I learned what I was meant to learn in the temple that day. When Sister Preggers got that tattoo a decade or so ago she was likely in a very different place in her life. Perhaps she'd never heard of the gospel and was just doing what all of her friends were doing; perhaps she'd been a member all her life and this was an act of desperate rebellion; perhaps her mother cried her eyes out when she saw the tattoo wondering if her daughter would ever come back the fold . . . . there are many possible scenarios. However, it is probably safe to say that she wasn't thinking/didn't care about what the prophets have counseled in the last 15 years regarding tattoos and piercings, nor how her Heavenly Father might feel about her marking her body that way.

But it occurred to me that even if there was sorrow among those who loved her at the moment of her marking herself in her rebellion, that it doesn't matter now. Her temple dress handily covered the outward manifestation and her covenants have taken care of the inward decisions that drove her to it. When we willingly come to Christ, the atonement can take care of everything. But unlike the temple dress, the atonement doesn't just cover the sins, it obliterates them.

And I realized something else: the story isn't yet written on any of us. A tattoo might mark the body, but there are other, darker things that mar the soul. Things that only Christ in his mercy can root out; only His grace can make us new people with changed hearts and willing hands. My story isn't yet written for good or bad. Just as I'm engraven upon His palms, I want His admonition and love and healing sacrifice written in the fleshy tablets of my heart. I want His words written on me. His countenance in mine. My hands to be His hands.

Sacrifice

In Sunday School this week our lesson was about the rich young man. You know the one--he was truly trying to keep the commandments for the right reasons, and recognized in the Savior and Individual who was perhaps more than a great rabbi. Upon asking what more he could do to follow God, the Savior, carefully considering the young man's sincerity and lifestyle, admonished him to sell all that he had, give it to the poor, and then follow the Savior.

The teacher had some fantastic quotes--one from a Protestant reformer (Wycliff, maybe?) who expressed his deep concern about the inability of Christians to stay humble when they became wealthy, practically describing the central themes found so bluntly stated in the Book of Mormon. A second quote came from Brigham Young as follows, "The worst fear I have about this people is that they will get rich in this country, forget God and His people, wax fat, and kick themselves out of the Church and go to hell. This people will stand mobbing, robbing, poverty, and all manner of persecution and be true. But my greatest fear is that they cannot stand wealth.” Then he referenced Joseph Smith from Lectures on Faith, "A religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things never has power sufficient to produce the faith necessary to life and salvation."

There followed a very interesting discussion about the sacrifice of "all things", and what exactly the Lord expects from us. The conversation then moved into the idea of covetousness and how it isn't the wanting of others' stuff that is the problem as much as the bad feeling it gives us toward others when they have more or are more. Competition, coveting and pride are all sins on the same spectrum. Ultimately we don't just envy and hate those who have more . . . we scorn those who have less. Coveting nearly always leads to enmity. And, as is so often the antidote for sin, charity seems to be the cure.

So what the Lord expects is our time, talents and our energies for the good of others. This combination will be unique to everyone, but it seems fairly certain that anything less than our all isn't enough.

I think I'm starting to understand about sacrifice, at least a little bit. What I'm still working on is the faith part that says, "Any sacrifice pales in comparison to the blessings . . . ." I think that one of the great strengths of LDS people is their willingness to sacrifice. And today I need your strength. Take a moment here to share a time when you sacrificed, and what it taught you. I know that sacrifice isn't about making sure that others know what you've done, but maybe this is a forum when we can draw strength to have the faith to continue giving our all.

You see, right now I'm going through a period of discouragement regarding my rather stupid job. As has been typical throughout our whole marriage, my extra income is just a little bit more than the 10% we pay in tithing--the rest of my money mostly covers my own tithing and my expenses for the paper route. For me, tithes and offerings aren't just about writing a couple of checks every month . . . it is about setting an alarm at 3 o'clock every. single. day. Probably at least for a couple of more years, unless I expect my family to share the sacrifice. No lessons. No dates. No vacations. No mission fund. No fun. Either I suffer or we all suffer.

Then I look around my community, my country, and the world, and I see actual suffering and I feel very small and selfish. Please, share your stories. It will ease the passage in the dark tomorrow morning.

Evilution

Some weeks back, a former student sent me a message on Facebook, expressing conflict over the way her high school teacher was presenting evolution in her science class. My previous school was in a predominately LDS small town in Utah. Knowing that she is a very religious person, she didn't need to say very much for me to understand precisely what her conflict is.

Over the years, as I've worked with young teenage women in the LDS Church (and heck, their mothers and grandmothers too!) I am often discouraged by what a bad rap science gets. Too many religious women view science as something for men to glom onto, or as something whose purpose is to undermine faith. For the uber-religious, science is too often synonymous with atheism. Because I usually am in the context of a church setting when working with these kids, it is not always appropriate for me to challenge their thinking when it comes to secular knowledge.

My young friend gave me a perfect opportunity to both share my faith, and my own seemingly contradictory journey to marry science with religion. It also caused me to do some careful research. A generation before the years that had a strong bearing on my adult self--both religiously and intellectually--the Church also underwent a time of growing pains. When Dallin H. Oaks (now an apostle of the LDS Church) was the president of Brigham Young University, there were deep divisions in Church administration regarding whether or not the subject of evolution should be presented at BYU. Though the Scopes Monkey Trial had been fifty years earlier, there were statements by general authorities in place--both official and unofficial--that were problematic for determining a mainstream course of action at the Church University.

Oaks settled the question by offering his professional opinion to those who made such decisions for BYU (including President Hinckley) by making the following statement, "If we stopped teaching this theory, within a few years students from BYU would not be admitted to…graduate schools. At that point we would cease to function as a recognized university and would, in the eyes of the world (especially the world of higher education), be little more than a seminary with added courses in the humanities. I have no doubt whatever that our accreditation as an institution of higher education would be lost."

He then added, though I must say he hardly needed to, "The issue is just loaded."

For further information, there are a couple of really great websites I found. The first contains any statement the author could EVER find on evolution put out by the Church. It is important to point out, however, that only four of these statements are deemed "official." The most recent of these official statements was actually given in the 1930's, and though each builds on a First Presidency Statement made in the very early part of the 1900's, over the years, each statement becomes more and more general, in the end merely emphasizing that God created the earth and that Adam was the "first man" and prophet. The eternal progression of man in the world to come is also reiterated (talk about evolving). This softening of language is indicative of a view of science at odds with those who would use the Bible as a scientific manual to teach Creationism.

The second website emphasizes the official statements, quotes from faithful LDS people and scientists regarding knowledge and the attainment of it, and a wonderful talk from Hugh B. Brown under the "LDS Articles" link. There is enough here to keep you busy for days if you are interested. If you are not, well, you've probably already quit and I'm already over it.

Years before going to bat for evolution, Elder Oaks issued statements to the faculty at BYU strongly condemning those who would make assumptions about their colleagues' commitment to the Church based on their training in the sciences. As your read excerpts from the letter I sent to my former student, I would ask you to do the same for me.

Enjoy.

"Dear K,

"My intention is not to convince you of a certain way of thinking: as always I want my students to think for themselves and draw their own conclusions, but sharing my story might help you to see that any worthwhile journey of faith and knowledge takes time, and that some answers and conclusions don’t immediately reveal themselves.

“My first good life science class was my AP Biology class. It was a bit intimidating—I was a young sophomore and my teacher was the head football coach. He was loud and disorganized and sometimes lazy. But I loved him. His perspective was unique. He had arrived at an interest in science only later in life when he realized that if he wanted to coach high school ball, he was going to have to actually get a major in something besides PE. Though in his early 40’s when I first knew him, he had only been a member of the Church a few years.

“When he taught the chapter on evolution (he called it “evilution” just to nettle us), he presented the information in the book and I found myself very conflicted. Though it seemed to contradict everything I’d been taught at church, the theory deeply appealed to my sense of logic. Furthermore, that appeal was disturbing to me—wasn’t my faith already weak enough to be wondering about such things?

“Then, on the last day of the unit he gave us time to express our opinions and discuss discrepancies between the stories of creation we had been taught and evolutionary theory. Most of us, though not all, were LDS, but most of the other kids were Christians of some variety and the conversation was lively and fascinating. Though I’m pretty sure neither our science or our religion was very factual that morning, it was wonderful to have such a discussion in an atmosphere where we didn’t feel chided for our questions about God, or unsophisticated for our belief in something beyond biological chemicals. It was because of his class I became a science teacher.

“Fast-forward to college, where I spent much of my first year spinning my wheels both spiritually and intellectually. Gone were the days of Christian science teachers helping you navigate your way through tough concepts—evolution wasn’t merely a subject you studied in biology, this theory and its huge body of supporting evidence provided the entire foundation for most of my biology classes. There was no question of it being ‘just’ a theory, this was THE theory. (If you look at the word theory from a scientific standpoint, you know that 'just' doesn’t really apply anyway.)

“. . . . I spent a lot of time questioning. I didn’t think it was at all possible for religious doctrine to reconcile with scientific teaching. Some people are given the gift of faith. My mother is one of these, and so is my sister. I am not. In fact, quite the opposite. My own gifts of intellect, practicality, logic and curiosity sometimes seem to work in direct opposition to having faith.

“Then, halfway through my freshman year until about halfway through my sophomore year, I was faced with a series of unexpected and very serious challenges. The details here would fill pages, so I will spare you, but suffice it to say, I had to really find out for myself if the Church was true, or if all this eternal-families-stuff was just a nice fairy tale to make us feel better about death and trials.

“It took some time, but I’m glad I didn’t give up. I came to know for myself that the Lord had a hand in my life, that the Atonement was real and personal . . . once I was finally at peace with my own beliefs, I was able to compartmentalize the science. It wasn’t easy, but I was determined not to let my perceived inconsistencies between faith and science either deter me from my religion or from the subject I loved.

“Time passed, and as my spiritual faith and secular knowledge both deepened, I came to realize that I no longer had to compartmentalize the two. My study of science had given me a greater appreciation for God and His magnificent creation. My study of religion had given me the influence of the Holy Ghost which helped me to separate truth from error, or to be settled with the questions that weren’t answerable. I eventually became a missionary and recognized how simple the core message of the gospel is, how simple salvation is. The more questions I asked and more curious I became, the more I also realized how few of the questions really NEED to be answered in order for you to live a good, righteous life. . . .

"Deseret Book published a collection of essays some years ago called “Reflections of a Scientist” by Henry Eyring (the current apostle’s father) that says some amazing things about faith and religion. (Excerpts here.) I will not quote it directly—I loaned the book out and it seems I didn’t get it back. But I remember him saying that true science and true religion would never be in conflict with one another. That if they seemed to contradict, it was because we didn’t have enough knowledge. As a member of the General Sunday School board, he of course asserted the truthfulness of the Church, but readily acknowledged how little had been revealed to us by God about the majestic workings of the universe, and that human curiosity should be boundless in trying to figure things out. . . .

“When my husband took his core biology classes, he was taught the evolution portion by a wonderful professor named Dr. Frank Messina. (I’d had Messina for graduate level evolution years earlier—one of the best classes I ever took . . .) In the upper level class, Messina dove right in on day one with micro-evolution content, assuming that if we had made it to that level then we were all on board. In the basic biology class (my husband’s) he spent the first several days reassuring the students that his goal was not to undermine their faith in any way. . . though not religious himself . . . he understood the culture of the area and had no wish to be seen as a destroyer. . . .

“Dr. Messina came to the conclusion . . . that both religion and science were ways of knowing. Religion uses the 'evidence of things NOT seen' (Hebrews 11:1) and science uses evidence we can observe through our five senses. Interestingly enough, at the same time I attended a Utah State Science Teachers conference and one of our break-out groups was facilitated by a BYU professor who broached the subject of teaching evolution in a conservative community. Many of his conclusions were identical to Dr. Messina—who are we to say how God created life on our planet? It is enough for salvation to know that He did. For me, my own life would be incomplete if I had not learned to use both the seen and the unseen to help guide my decisions and stimulate my mind and spirit.

“As for specifics? I’ve come to some of my own (very un-doctrinal!) conclusions there, and won’t share them. In time, if the reconciliation seems important to you, the Spirit will guide you into your own truth. Or it will help you to know that NOT knowing (at least for now) is okay too. What I will say very specifically is I . . . believe whole-heartedly that Adam was the first prophet—the first man who in body and mind was created in God’s image and with potential to become like our Father in Heaven. I believe that same potential lies in each one of us as well. I know that having faith makes life richer, fuller and better. . . ."

I told you in my last post that I was bundle of contradictions.

28 Days of L-O-V-E

Day 7

I love church. Now, don't get me wrong, we have as much trouble getting there as anybody else, and those years when you have a babe in arms and walk the hallways are no picnic. Then you have a day like today--from the opening prayer to the closing, it was just wonderful. I felt uplifted as I heard my brothers and sisters share their testimonies of Jesus Christ, with a healthy smattering of people sharing their stories of being converted to the Church*. TamathyC always presents a Sunday School lesson that is carefully thought out, and despite our studying the Old Testament this year, her presentation always seems totally relevant to our modern lives. This week, I taught our Young Women, but even that contributed to my overall good experience at church this week.

I feel re-energized to face my week, and am grateful for Heavenly Father's gift in giving us a day of rest each week.


*In most parts of the country, if you hear "the Church" they are talking about Catholicism. In Utah and in LDS circles, the same phrase means The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (Mormons, Saints, LDS, Latter-day Saints.) When I use church with a small "c" I am referencing attending worship services each week. When I use a capital "C" I am referencing the entire, formal organization as restored by God through Joseph Smith. When I say people shared conversion stories, it is the journey that brought them to the Latter-day Saints, not just to church that particular week.

Tonight's the Night the World Begins Again

So remember that one time I felt impressed to finish my Abish book with a great sense of urgency? And how I let other parts of my life get in the way, and I put off my project? And then six months ago they published the book they chose over mine? A few months after the first rejection I got this one from Deseret Book. And though DB didn't say anything specific about why they passed over my book, their new catalog contains this:


From a previously published author. Apparently my sense of urgency was not something imagined. I can't help but wonder what six or even three months difference would have done. I also can't help but wonder how mine compares, though I'm also fearful to find out. What if I read both and they are good-ish and I get so discouraged I can't write anymore? Maybe such feeling will be the reality check I need to just move on with my life. Or what if they are rotten and I feel bitter? Bitter is a very bad place to be.

(On a lighter note, speaking of other writers doing the same thing I am, but having a wider audience so they actually get read--try this. I'm probably biased, but I think my own parody stacks up pretty well. It might actually be worth reading Eclipse again just to chunk out another one of these.)

I'd like to say I'm working on something original, but my latest pet project with the most potential is a fairy tale retelling. It is true that the fairy tale is a bit obscure and I haven't ever seen this particular story re-told, but I have this nagging fear that when it is finally ready to send out there will be three of the same circulating out there in the black hole of books never published. If this sounds a bit like discouragement, well, that is because it is a LOT like discouragement. This too shall pass.

All of this rambling, believe it or not, is leading to something.

I've been thinking about 2010 resolutions. My thoughts in recent months have been much on personal revelation.* Several discussions here have led me in that direction as well as these three talks from the latest General Conference. There are some things right now that I am struggling with--questions for which my own experience and understanding and knowledge have not provided answers. I listened again to the talked titled "To Acquire Spiritual Guidance" again this morning, and the end of Elder Scott's talk really hits home to me. The italics are my own:

"Have patience as you are perfecting your ability to be led by the Spirit. By careful practice, through the application of correct principles, and by being sensitive to the feelings that come, you will gain spiritual guidance. . . as you pray with all the fervor of your soul with humility and gratitude, you can learn to be consistently guided by the Holy Spirit in all aspects of your life. I testify that you can personally learn to master the principles of being guided by the Spirit. . ."

I've lately begun to think that the greatest test of our lives, and perhaps the most important thing we can learn how to do, is to first LEARN and then secondly DO what the Lord would want us to do. Receiving revelation is a both a gift and a skill. It isn't just something that happens at random times without any work on our end. And like with any skill, practice makes you better. I have had times in my life when I have listened closely to the Lord's promptings and then acted on them. Sometimes the blessings for doing so have been immediate; sometimes those blessings take longer to come. But they always have come. I need to get better at both listening at at acting.

To that end, my 2010 goals are fewer in number than last year, and all relate to the BIG goal of fulfilling the plan the Lord has for my life.

1. I will get less hung up if my Martha tasks are unfinished and concentrate harder on the Mary tasks. (Luke 10:38-42) Oops, there goes my Etsy store.

2. I will re-establish the habit of meaningful prayer in my life.

3. I will record the spiritual impressions that I have.

4. I will continue my current course of scripture study, which has been wonderfully effective for me. (In the spring I bought an inexpensive set of scriptures that I have been cross-referencing to the conference talks and the footnotes. It is fascinating to see patterns emerge and passages of scripture that get continual emphasis.) I need to establish this fledgling habit more firmly so that it is a part of my life at least five days each week.

5. I will work harder to maintain harmony in my family relationships--particularly towards and between my kids.

6. I will attend the temple between six and 12 times this year. At least every other month, if not every month.

7. I will get more sleep--my greatest lifestyle barrier to making the others more successful.

I vowed to post contest winners here today, but this post is lengthy enough. Besides, I haven't determined a winner yet. I guess you'll have to come back again.

I've found that putting my resolutions on my blog is a really great way for me to be more diligent about them. While certainly nothing earth-shattering or unique, their nearly daily reminder on my side-bar helps to keep me honest with myself. Feel free to add your resolutions here, or to add your own thoughts on keeping the channels of communication with God open.

*It has come to my attention lately that there are some regular-ish readers here who don't share my religion. Aspects of my faith, perhaps, but our practice is different. A post such as this, with its deeply personal, spiritual outlook and terminology that may be unique to the LDS tradition can seem alienating. Today's discussion is about "personal revelation." This concept might also be termed insight, intuition, conscience or spiritual guidance. And yet, I think it is something beyond all of that. The first two on the list imply that you have some instinct that guides you a certain way based on your experience and personality. The idea of "conscience" is more about simple decisions between right and wrong--a moral compass that guides our actions. The last is closer to what I'm getting at here, provided that the spiritual guidance is coming from without, and not from within. The Mormon story, from its very beginning, is about the importance of reading, studying and learning, but then coming to a place where you ask God Himself to place knowledge in your mind and in your heart. This knowledge seldom comes in dramatic or miraculous ways (though it does), but is more likely to come quietly. For an excellent tutorial on LDS theology regarding this concept, please read this talk/sermon by Vicki Matsumori. She helps to facilitate programs world-wide for the children in our church under the age of 12; in this particular talk she speaks very clearly, concisely, and lovingly about the ways in which our Father in Heaven communicates with us.

Darn that Caller ID

We no longer have a landline. This doesn't make me hip or cool or young. It just makes me cheap. Mostly I like having just a cell phone, but it only identifies callers if they are already programmed into my phone. This is not an issue really: I only screen calls at meal time, after 8:00, when I'm watching a show I really like on TV, when I'm resolving an issue with the kids, doing housework, if I'm talking to someone on the other line, at the store, in the car, when my hands are full, or if I'm just not in the mood to talk. So, yeah, hardly ever.

Two Sundays ago, the phone rang while Plantboy was at meetings and I was in the throes of getting the Jedi off to church. Sunday morning phone calls are generally of two varieties: a missed newspaper customer or my mother. It was not my mother, and not recognizing the number I nearly changed my mind, figuring it was a disgruntled paper (non) recipient. I answered, trying to keep the note of world-weariness out of my voice.

It was not a paper customer.

It was a member of the Stake Presidency. I was surprised to learn that he actually knew me, though I've noticed in this stake that the members of the SP come out fairly regularly to visit the wards. You know how this goes--when anybody from the stake calls you immediately begin the following in your head: What-can-he-be-calling-about-we-just-got-new-callings-please-don't-be-taking-my-husband-away-for-more-hours. But he did not want to meet with me or Plantboy. Instead, he asked if I would speak at the adult session of Stake Conference next week.

I think people say yes to this sort of thing because it comes as such a shock. With some time and reflection, you might be able to give a definitive yes, or at least come up with an excellent excuse. My answer sounded more like a question, "Yes?"

Now for the reason I'm blogging about this rather ordinary event. The topic has me slightly out of sorts. He said that a few people had been asked to take 10 minutes each to share a favorite scripture--one that had influenced our life somehow. He then said the scripture should be centered on Christ and the atonement as much as possible. Seems more like seminary devotional material than adult-session stake conference doctrine.

I wasn't off the phone ten minutes when ideas began flooding 1 Nephi 3 or 8 . . . or 17 ; the last three or four chapters of 2nd Nephi, the first or last few chapters of Mosiah, and Alma! Where to even begin in Alma? 5, 17-26, 32 . . . I quickly realized my thoughts were only in the very first half of the Book of Mormon and there were so many other great ones! Half of the third Nephi, verse 11 of 4th Nephi would make a fantastic talk, not to mention most of Mormon, Ether or Moroni. There are several incredible and influential scriptures in the Doctrine and Covenants too. In Sunday School this summer I think we spent an entire month on just half of section 121. And while not a lot from the Old Testament stood out (Abraham's sacrifice and obedience/Esther's sense of destiny being notable exceptions), there are parts of the New Testament I just love. John 8. Acts 1-10 . . . . excerpts from all the epistles. The entire book of James.

Okay, you definitely get the picture. No doubt with just a minute's reflection you could come up with a similar list. It has really hit me that I don't think I have a favorite scripture. I have passages, stories, chapters that I really love. But a favorite? It's like picking a favorite kid. It just depends on the day, or even the moment.

Now, after some better focused reflection, I'm getting the start of an idea. But as I've been writing the talk, the tendency to sermonize and not just travelogue keeps creeping in. Does that make sense? I don't just want to tell a story; I want to teach a principle. But maybe the assignment just calls for the first? I'm not sure.

So what is YOUR favorite scripture? Either ever or at this moment, I'm not picky, but please give us a reason that you love it. I'm also not going to steal one of yours. I lamented some weeks back about how all of this social networking with a group of such remarkable, like-minded women, kept me from getting on my knees and taking my problems to the Lord. It is not my intention here to do so. Maybe it is that for about fifty un-named reasons this has been a Jonah-week* and I'm in need of some serious uplift. Help me out here, girls.

*Bragging rights to whomever can place the Jonah-week reference!

Ambition

Last year my book group read Anne of Green Gables. We had a surprisingly lovely discussion. I say surprising because I was amazed at the depth we found in that much beloved volume when looking for something more than just a story. As the evening wrapped up, I remember posing one last question that wasn't addressed thoroughly because of time and inclination, but it is something I've often thought about.

Now that I'm serving with the Young Women, it is something I've been thinking about again.

You remember the Anne books. Anne is so bright, committed and highly competitive. She wins awards, honors and acclamation from her peers and professors. Marilla and Mathew are so proud of her efforts which put her right on par with the male counterparts in her class. In the second book she teaches, in the third book she goes to college and in the fourth book she is the principal of a school while Gilbert becomes a doctor. Anne is probably 23-ish by the time she marries. Pretty much spinster-age in that time period.

And then, boom! Anne marries, takes no thought to ever teach again, keeps house for Gilbert (brilliantly I might add, there is little that the red-head cannot do), and waits to have a baby.

Each year Anne says goodbye to her crop of kiddies, and is properly regretful to see them go, but there is no indication that she regrets leaving her classroom teaching behind for good. She moves into her house o' dreams with nary a backward glance and becomes as perfect a mother as she was a teacher. I'll tell you how my own experience feels after I pose my question.

How do we teach our girls to be ambitious and to work hard, while still instilling a desire for motherhood? Or, conversely, how to we nurture their desire to have children and stay at home with them and simultaneously encourage them to set academic and career goals?

Right now I have a group of young women who want to be mothers, at least for the most part. For some of them, though, this supersedes all else. Too many of them express indifference to their school work and classes, and little desire to go to college or have no interest in any career path when they get there. I see lots of untapped potential in the way they are approaching their lives.

Our YW president recently read a book called "Do Hard Things." It is about modern youth and their laziness in response to how convenient and entertaining their lives are. I had one of our most spiritual and sweetest girls tell me the other day, in response to something I told her about door-knocking on my mission, "I could never do that." Her brother just left on his mission, but I'm wondering why she thinks this hard thing is just something for her brother to do? Why isn't a mission something she might keep her mind open toward? And for all that several of them have expressed a desire to be stay at home moms, some of them have told me without flinching that when they babysit they don't do diapers. We have to teach our kids to do hard things. To love hard things. What does Tom Hanks say in A League of Their Own when Geena Davis tells him that baseball just go too hard? "It's the hard that makes it great." I have also often heard young women say, "I don't want to go on a mission; I want to get married." Where does this false dichotomy come from? Serving a mission doesn't rule out marriage, any more than staying home from a mission guarantees a spouse. Or "I don't plan to work, I'm going to be a mom." What if you don't get married until you are 30?

The last several young women who have graduated from high school in my ward come back to visit from time to time--each of them seem without anchor in their way. They don't seem driven by anything that makes them want to jump out of bed each morning and just grab life by the horns. They are wishing so desperately for Prince Charming to come along that they seem to have forgotten to take the lead role in their own lives.

I was not like Anne. I didn't jump in to keeping house head first; I was busy keeping my head above water at my first middle school job. On our first anniversary we moved far away to take a job for Plantboy. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, one that couldn't be passed up, and we knew it was the right move. But I left a job I loved, and I walked away from a valuable professional opportunity that would have led to some very interesting graduate opportunities for me.

As the kids came along and times got very lean, I always worked part time--tutoring, writing curriculum, supplemental instructor in the schools, and whatever I could get my hands on. My hubby worked for the Church, and although the benefits, both spiritual and physical, were fantastic, the pay was lousy. When we approached our five year mark with LDS employment, Plantboy felt that it was time to go back to school. Though I was entirely supportive, I have to admit to being surprised at the turn our life took. I thought I'd be the one to go back first.

When Plantboy went back to school we made a very prayerful decision for me to work full time, and met with mild criticism from very surprising places. Thankfully, my family was always supportive of our decision, my parents especially. We were blessed--I had a wonderful job just 10 minutes from campus, was home by three every day, and most of Plantboy's classes were afternoon and evening. We had very little babysitting in the two years we spent back at school. Baby #3 was the biggest leap of faith either of us had ever taken we were blessed again both with his birth and presence in our family as well as a job opportunity we never had anticipated.

Now with all of this, I want to point out something very important. It is true that when I have worked (nearly always), we have done it primarily from necessity. But there is something more: I really like it.

Scratch that. I love it.

I love my children too, and they are absolutely my priority right now. If they weren't, I'd be teaching during the day instead of delivering papers at 3:30 every morning. When I worked full time while Plantboy was in school, it was hard, but I was grateful every day to be at a job I loved so much, even if it meant I had to be away from home.

Some days back I was standing in a group of women talking about mothering and those little things you do day in and day out a million times over. I don't think anybody was really complaining, just observing. One friend said, "Just think, if you worked, you'd miss out on making those lunches every day." She didn't mean to be sarcastic, but it sounded a bit that way. A couple of people in the group jumped on the tone, affirming how much they loved doing it and so on and so on.

Now, my own working experience was not having to drop kids off at daycare somewhere. I knew they were home being exceptionally well-cared for by Plantboy. Still, when everybody finished re-affirming how much happier they were at home than at work I couldn't help but say how much I had enjoyed working, and how much more centered I felt when I came home to my little ones each afternoon, ready to be a parent full time and enjoy their company.

Talk about being able to hear a pin drop.

The stay-at-home-mom thing in LDS circles is like being a Republican. Everybody just assumes that everybody is in complete agreement, even if there might be lots of different opinions in the room. My mom always worked (part time, as a nurse) and was always active in the church. I was never raised to see a conflict between working and mothering, nor was I raised to think that earning money was the sole province of the father.

Here is the thing: if women have the means and the desire to stay home I think it's wonderful. When I see sisters take a leap of faith to quit work and do full time childcare I think it's awesome. (I think it's not so awesome to listen to a handful of these same women spend much of their time complaining about money, however.) I think that men and women with testimonies need to do all they can to follow the prophet's counsel, but it might just be that there are times you have to choose which counsel to follow. When Plantboy went back to school we chose self-reliance over mom staying home. There was no way to pick both. Did we make the right decision? I think so. We certainly don't regret it.

I'm not so delusional as to think I can have it all, but I've always seen myself going back to work one day. Yes, yes, the money will be nice. My working might allow Plantboy to really pursue a career he dreams about though the pay is lower. A house with more space would be nice: I had that recurring dream again this week where I discover a secret door leading to a part of the house I didn't know existed, like something straight from a JK Rowling novel. Being able to sock a little bit more each month into our savings would be a relief. A current teaching certification would be a fantastic life insurance policy.

All of these are great reasons, but at the end of the day I think the main reason I see myself working, is just that I like it. I'm good at it. Classroom teaching is really the one thing I feel like I have a clear talent for. It isn't just a job or a career for me, it is a passion. It's a gift. The thought of never going back makes me feel like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on my head.

In recent months I've heard people say the following, "Well, STM, maybe it's time to find a new passion." "We would never even consider a loan just for the wife's education" "Can't you just teach your children or at church?" While each person might have a point, none of these things sit all that well with me.

These thoughts have been on my mind partly because of my young women, but also because of something else: as my family gets older and busier, my tutoring is interfering too much with family life. Our afternoons are crazy and I feel like we are all in a mild state of disarray on the days I tutor. Add a night of YW into the mix and well, it is just too much. We are at a crossroads. Or maybe an impasse.

So next year I'm giving it up. But we still need some additional income, so I'll be keeping the paper route. As I prepare to sacrifice the job I love (tutoring) for the one I often hate (papers), I know it's for the good of our family. But I keep watching and waiting for the time when what is for the good of our family will allow mom to get a master's degree. When the good of our family will send me back to the classroom. When there is an outlet for my abilities that doesn't exist right now.

With my sons, this whole question of ambition is so cut and dried--mission, college, marriage, career, family. There is an order to things with boys, and there isn't quite so much choosing. I'm not so naive to think that my boys won't feel conflicted at times and that the path ahead will not always be smooth sailing, but with girls the way is much less plain. Even when grown women have babies and a husband and a home the way is not so plain.

As I look around at the many remarkable and talented women I know, I'm amazed at the things you've sacrificed to become mothers. Of course, the blessings of motherhood outweigh the sacrifice, but it doesn't make the giving up any less real or painful. It might even be this sacrifice, in part, that makes motherhood so great. I admire the courage of the great women I know--you mothers for what you've exchanged for your children; you single-tons for the zeal you put into your careers and extended families; and childless friends for making the unexpected twists in your lives a matter of optimism.

I want the young women I know to feel this burning commitment inside so deeply that regardless of the hand life deals them, they want to go all in. I want every possible door to be open to them because of the preparation and sacrifices they have made. I want them to get on their knees when it is time to make choices. I want them to be women that men look up to and not just look at. I want them to do hard things.

But perhaps this is too ambitious . . .

Testimony

One thing I have never wanted to prompt my kids to do is say their testimony. Prayers, talks, scriptures, apologies, manners--all of these words I am happy to put in their mouths. But testimony has always seemed too personal to prompt. I have also been in wards that are a monthly primary-a-mony, with one child following another, sometimes with older siblings telling kids who can barely talk what to say.

Still, every parent has their own way of teaching this important thing. . . .

A few weeks ago, Scallywag's primary teacher told me that during a lesson about temples, he had borne testimony about the temple. She paraphrased for me what he said and I was both surprised and impressed. Sunday was our fast day, and I leaned over to Scallywag and told him that if he wanted to, sometime, he could have a chance to share his testimony, that it wasn't just for grown ups to do.

He was silent for a moment and I wondered if he had even heard me. Then he replied, "I want to go today." I immediately backpedaled, reiterating to him what a testimony is and telling him that we could talk about it at home and practice for next month. He shook his head and said patiently, "I know what a testimony is. I want to do it today."

Handing a six year-old an open mic is a bit of a scary proposition, but up we went. We had to wait a moment for the sister ahead of us to finish and the whole time I was whispering frantically in his ear, "It is not time to tell a story. You could tell about Joseph Smith. You could tell about the church. You could say that you loved your family. It is not time to tell a story. You could say that you are grateful for the temple, or the priesthood in your home. It is not time to tell a story." Even with the podium all the way lowered and the booster, he still could barely be seen over the top. He suddenly looked very nervous, but leaned all the way into the microphone anyway, so that his lips were touching it.

Speaking softly he said, "I believe . . . that I know," long pause, voice lowered even more and emotional, "that this is the true church of Jesus Christ." He looked at me with wide eyes and whispered, "I think I'm done, Mom." I prompted him how to finish and he scooted off the stand.

The Spirit was palpable and many eyes were moist. With all that little Scallywag could have said, and all that he usually does say, he said exactly the right thing, getting to the heart of what matters. After the meeting, an Irish brother who has been a great neighbor to us came and shook my boy's hand very solemnly and then said to me, "That was shades of Belfast fifty years ago. My dear mother guiding me by the hand, not telling me what to say, just teaching and then letting go. Thank you." The Irishman's mother died when he was just twelve. How short is our time to teach--how long are their memories.

Four????

I know that the number and frequency of children you have can only be truly decided between you and your spouse and Lord. Still, what is blogging for if not to solicit random tidbits of advice from friends and strangers alike?

I am at a major crossroads in my child-bearing life. Some weeks back my mother and I were talking and I asked her why "4" seems to be such a magic number of children for people that I know. Before four kids, it seems like all kinds of random people will ask, "Do you think you'll have any more?" (Maybe this is this the case after four children as well?) She said that in her generation she felt that the magic number was 5. There are four children in my family, and mom felt like my youngest brother started school before people quit asking her if she was done.

It took 20 weeks for me to adjust to the idea of having a third son. By the time Captain Tootypants was born, I was okay with it. And now, I've accepted that I have to be careful to not end up in the middle of non-stop wrestling match at my house. I've accepted that my youngest is both the meanest and the sweetest of the three. I've accepted endless hand-me-down piles of brown and blue and green clothes that are nearly always muddy by days' end. I've even accepted the boy smell that permeates my bedroom and my kids' bedroom every morning. Some days I look at my life and think, "How did I get so lucky to have a houseful of exceptionally handsome men who each think I'm the center of their universe?" Other days I think, "Where is the daughter I have long-dreamed of?" There are days when mothering is so easy and I know that four would be nothing, and then there are other days when I want nothing more than to escape the drudgery of housework and diapers and referee-ing and, well, you get the picture.

I've had all my children for very different reasons--the first was obligation, the second was desire, the third was an act of faith. But if there is to be a #4 . . . .

This baby would have to be called "sacrifice," inasmuch as one baby can be seen as more of a sacrifice than another. We would be exceptionally crowded in our small house. We would have to think of some way to afford a payment on a bigger car. My additional schooling (and therefore earning power) would have to be put off a few more years. Even after a year of being here, I don't feel like I've really built the support system that I've had in other places--so necessary when you are hundreds of miles from any family members.

When I felt the powerful prompting to get pregnant with #3, despite Plantboy's schooling not being finished and no job on the horizon, and certainly no knowledge of where would be the following year, I took the biggest leap of faith I've ever made. I gave Plantboy about four days notice on the "I need to get pregnant now!" though we had discussed such a thing as being at least a year into the future. He prayed and he trusted me, dear man. I think I always knew there would be a great blessing attached to that decision; I hoped that blessing meant a baby daughter. The Lord knew my heart. If Captain Tootypants had been a girl instead, it would have probably taken a bolt of lightning for me to have had a fourth baby, and then my sweet baby would have never been a part of my life. My 20 weeks of adjustment over his birth was not just getting ready for a third boy; I think in my heart I was coming to terms with a fourth pregnancy.

I checked the blog of a friend today who just had her fourth baby: one of several friends in the last year to make this leap. Ever since my baby was about two months old, this battle within myself emerges about once a month. Jana's newborn has triggered these thoughts today. For "ideal" spacing, if I have a baby #4, I should get pregnant in about six months. The decision I keep telling myself can wait, cannot wait much longer.

Or maybe I've already made the decision--maybe it was made a long time ago--and my practical side cannot stop thinking about the awful logistics of such a decision. I'm struggling to do the will of the Father, knowing my heart is not in the right place. If I knew a girl was coming to us, I'd get pregnant tomorrow, logistics be damned. But the thought of a fourth boy makes me feel faintly naseous. Would I be able to love a fourth boy enough so that he never wondered if I had him just because I was hoping for a girl? Is a fourth child, for me, a total act of unselfishness since on paper it is pure insanity; or is my decision based on some completely selfish desire to have a daughter on the off-chance that she'll be the best friend I've ever had?

Talk From Sunday

In case you are thinking this is getting repetitive, I did do a fireside last November and speak in Sacrament meeting less than a year ago. There is a new counselor in the bishopbric over talks and I am thinking that he lost the original list or something. At least I gave a new talk. That is more than I can say for . . . well, I won't go there. Because it was a REALLY great talk: who cares if he gave it twice?

I am not sure how well this will load because of the footnotes (I know that seems a little, well, over the top, but somebody wanted a copy so I was more careful than normal). It is also quite lengthy; I'm too lazy on our last day of summer vacation to edit. What I WOULD like to know, however is if anybody knows where I can get some extremely cheap and user friendly web hosting for PDF pages? I am thinking of publishing some of my stuff on-line, linking it through here and removing all personal identification from my manuscripts, but the blogger format is all wrong. I want to link PDF protected pages from my home page. Anyway, if you have any advice, skip the talk, and make a comment to give it to me.


Preparedness

When we were given the topic of “preparedness” today, I immediately thought about food storage and panicked. Once my mind began seeing past hundreds of quarts of canned peaches that I don’t have, however, there was a story that came very clearly to me that I wanted to share. It was not immediately apparent why I should, but as I’ve pondered and prayed, I understand why the Lord would have me share this very personal experience.

During my freshman year of college, there were a series of difficult trials that happened to several friends and family members. Although none of these trials happened to me directly, each circumstance greatly affected my outlook. I had been raised in the church, but it wasn’t until I was faced with such life-altering trials that I really began to seek and find my testimony. And then, during finals week of my freshman year, President Benson died. Within days of the funeral, President Howard W. Hunter was sustained prophet and held a press conference.

Wasting no time in declaring his prophetic vision for the church, this soft-spoken and gentle man said that he had two directives for Church members. The first was to look to the Savior as the supreme example in our lives, doing in all things what he would do. He then said,

“Secondly, and in that same spirit, I also invite the members of the Church to establish the temple of the Lord as the great symbol of their membership and the supernal setting for their most sacred covenants. It would be the deepest desire of my heart to have every member of the Church be temple worthy. I would hope that every adult member would be worthy of—and carry—a current temple recommend, even if proximity to a temple does not allow immediate or frequent use of it.

“Let us be a temple-attending and a temple-loving people. Let us hasten to the temple as frequently as time and means and personal circumstances allow. Let us go not only for our kindred dead, but let us also go for the personal blessing of temple worship, for the sanctity and safety which is provided within those hallowed and consecrated walls. The temple is a place of beauty, it is a place of revelation, it is a place of peace. It is the house of the Lord. It is holy unto the Lord. It should be holy unto us.”[1]

Perhaps I had matured, or because of my new-found testimony, it was the first time I remembered really standing up and taking note of what the prophet said. I replayed those words of the temple as “the great symbol of our membership.” That resonated with me, even though I had very little understanding of what he meant.

In October of that year, his first presidency message in the Ensign reiterated the charge[2]. Just a week after the issue came out, he spoke in conference. He again shared a similar message, encouraging us to display pictures of the temple in our homes. He also mentions the upcoming dedication of the Bountiful Temple and said, “My brothers and sisters, I testify that the impressions of the Spirit have weighed heavily upon me in considering these matters.”[3]

It turned out that nearly a million people toured the Bountiful Temple in November and December of 1994[4]. My parents had tickets for a tour on a November evening. The temple was nearly two hours away from where I attended college at Utah State University in Logan, but I decided to attend with my parents anyway. Snow was forecast for that day, but without too much worry I set off. The temple was lovely and the rooms were incredible. I remember especially the bride’s room. However, it was also very crowded, and there was no explanation provided for the purpose of the various rooms. Between the crowds and my confusion, my experience was not exactly what I had hoped for. I was not sorry I had gone, certainly, but I had not felt the spirit the way I expected. When we were done touring the temple, I went with my parents back to my home in Ogden, where they encouraged me to stay for the night. I had early classes, however, and decided to be on my way.

All started well on my journey back to my apartment, but about five minutes after entering Sardine Canyon, the snow began in earnest. Besides the snow rushing at my windshield like the Millennium Falcon rushing into hyperspace, it was very foggy. I slowed down to a crawl, not able to see more than a few feet in front of me, my headlights actually exacerbating the effects of snow and fog. I have driven that canyon literally hundreds of times in my life and I can only remember a handful of instances when conditions were that bad. I knew I was in serious trouble if I went off the road. The only shoes I had with me were the dress shoes I was wearing; my only coat, a thin dress coat. I didn’t have food or water in the car. I didn’t have a phone to call for help. I didn’t have a shovel in case digging myself out became necessary. I went at a snail’s pace for nearly ten miles. With relief, I could tell from the lay of the road that I was nearing the end of the canyon.

Whenever I drive into Cache Valley, particularly at night, the first thing I look for in the distance is the temple. It is built on a bluff just in front of the mouth of another canyon through the mountains to the east. As you enter the valley from the south, the temple stands out brightly, with its white spires illuminated bluish white every night. Though it is nearly pushed up against the east mountains, you get the impression that it actually stands on a large hill right in the center of the valley. The pioneers chose their site for the temple very well.

But that night, as I exited the canyon with 10 miles to go to my apartment just blocks from the temple, I still couldn’t see a thing. The snow had let up, but the fog was as bad as ever. My habit for getting to my apartment was to go up around the temple, even though the route took a few extra minutes, because it was a pretty drive. Despite the terrible visibility and little hope of seeing anything, I kept to my routine and drove up around the temple. I nearly ran off the road as I rounded the curve.

As if someone had turned on a switch, the temple was suddenly before me, blazingly bright and seeming to rise up out of the fog. Its parking lot was empty, covered only with a layer of fresh new snow. The quiet was intense and lovely as I pulled over carefully and just stared for several minutes, feeling the manifestation in my spirit that I had not felt inside the cozy and warm temple from the hours previous. I knew with all my heart that I wanted to be inside that sacred building, that I wanted to understand what President Hunter meant when he said that the temple should be the symbol of our membership.

But I knew something else. I knew that I was no more prepared to be in that glorious building than I was to be driving through the canyon that night.

I’m going to relate the symbols of what I was missing from my car that day to things I was also missing from my life. As I do, please carefully consider the things in your own life that may need putting in order so that we might each claim the blessings that our Father in Heaven is standing ready to give us.

1) Boots. If something had gone wrong and I had to get out of my car, I would have been wet to my nyloned knees in the ridiculous shoes I was wearing.

Just as my shoes would have allowed me to do little more than mince and slip in the snow, the faith I was exercising at that time in my life was weak and tentative. In 1997, the sesquicentennial of the pioneer’s arrival in Utah, President Hinckley narrated a remarkable documentary, shown in conference, titled Faith in Every Footstep[5]. There was a lovely hymn of the same title composed that same year to honor the anniversary[6]. In the documentary, President Hinckley and his counselors spoke with fervor and testimony about the faith of our early pioneer ancestors. They were a people who understood that faith was not just about believing, but that true faith inspires you to act, time and time again, even against overwhelming odds and challenges.

My own faith was not like this. I had not learned to trust the Lord. Despite many wonderful and subtle spiritual experiences through my teenage years, I asked time and time again for a manifestation about the truthfulness of the gospel. I was not unlike Oliver Cowdery. Even with experience after experience, Oliver still petitioned Joseph to ask the Lord to send him another witness. The Lord’s reply to Oliver’s question is loving, but there is a distinct rebuke also.

“Verily, verily, I say unto you, if you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might aknow concerning the truth of these things. Did I not speak apeace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater bwitness can you have than from God?[7]”

I needed to trust the many witnesses I had received from God and move forward; taking my turn to serve others and live the religion I knew to be true. Now, true faith was the first piece of preparation, but not the only one. From the scripture just shared, we see that Oliver was admonished to greater faith by listening to and trusting the Holy Ghost. This leads me to the second thing that would have been useful.

2) I needed something to keep me warm.

This symbol should be a little more obvious. The Savior himself said just hours before his atonement, “But the aComforter, which is the bHoly Ghost, whom the Father will send in my cname, he shall dteach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you.[8]”

I love the word “comforter.” I think there is no better description of the way the Holy Ghost can help us to feel. In a world of turmoil and difficulty, indeed, there is no greater need than this marvelous feeling of comfort. In addition to providing feelings of comfort and peace, the Holy Ghost helps to guide and direct us in our decisions.

The importance of the Holy Ghost was a thing I did not understand when I was a teenager in the YW program. My leaders and seminary teachers always seemed so urgent about us gaining testimonies, and learning to recognize the Spirit. I just didn’t really see what the big deal was. It wasn’t until that first spring away from home when life’s major trials truly beset me for the first time that I understood why my leaders had tried so hard. Between the ages of 18 and 25, I made no fewer than eight major life decisions. Decisions that would have changed the whole course of my life and perhaps my eternity if they had been different. I don’t know how I would have done this without the influence of the Holy Ghost, or how I could have possibly had any confidence in my decisions without His powerful, guiding influence.

In a world where the philosophies of men are becoming increasingly confused with doctrines of God, it will be vital to listen to the Holy Ghost so that we might do what is right.

3) Though the events of that snowy night happened before it was common for college students to carry cell phones, a means of communication would have been a third highly useful thing to have.
The best means of communication that we have with the Lord is prayer. It can be done any time and anywhere. It can be done with much forethought or on a whim. Prayer can be formal in front of a congregation, or traveling in the car on the way to work. When we call on God in all sincerity, he will answer us. Alma the younger gave the following counsel to one of his sons:
“Yea, and acry unto God for all thy support; yea, let all thy bdoings be unto the Lord, and whithersoever thou goest let it be in the Lord; yea, let all thy cthoughts be directed unto the Lord; yea, let the affections of thy heart be placed upon the Lord forever.

“aCounsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for bgood; yea, when thou liest down at night lie down unto the Lord, that he may watch over you in your sleep; and when thou risest in the cmorning let thy heart be full of thanks unto God; and if ye do these things, ye shall be lifted up at the last day.[9]”

4) If the worst had happened and I had been stranded in my car for any length of time, I would have gotten hungry very quickly. You know what a humbling experience it can be to fast even a few hours. Our physical body can only survive a very short time without nourishment. Our spirits are no different.

In the last few chapters written by Nephi, he talks about the importance of reading the scriptures saying, “aAngels speak by the power of the Holy Ghost; wherefore, they speak the words of Christ. Wherefore, I said unto you, bfeast upon the cwords of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will dtell you all things what ye should do.[10]”

To bring this feasting image into more modern language, in 1988, President Benson gave a talk about one of his favorite topics, the Book of Mormon. He spoke at length about the potential he saw for the book in the hands of righteous and studied church members. My favorite part of his talk is specifically to missionaries, but his words can apply to all of us.

“We need to read daily from the pages of the [Book of Mormon] that will get a man ‘nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.’ I challenge all of us to prayerfully consider steps that we can personally take to bring this new witness for Christ more fully into our own lives and into a world that so desperately needs it. I have a vision of thousands of missionaries going into the mission field with hundreds of passages memorized from the Book of Mormon so that they might feed the needs of a spiritually famished world.[11]”

I will not ask for a raise of hands for how many of you have hundreds of passages memorized from the Book of Mormon, but it should be apparent that we have a long way to go in how carefully we are reading this most sacred book, as well as our other scriptures. It is impossible to feed others if we ourselves are spiritually famished.

5) The last useful tool to me would have been a shovel. Sometimes you just have to dig yourself out.

Regardless of how much faith a person has or how often we read the scriptures, we are all just human, and mistakes will be made. This is part of our mortal experience. However, to be prepared for partaking the Lord’s covenants whether baptism or the sacrament or the temple, we must be humble enough to continually be in a state of repentance. As I’ve learned about and studied repentance I’ve come to see that repentance is much more than being sorry for the actions you’ve committed. It is even more than attempting to make reparations for the mistakes we’ve made. And it is more than merely promising never to commit these acts again. While each of these is an important part of the process of repentance, true repentance is more akin to conversion than apologizing. It is a complete bending of our will to our Father in Heaven’s so that our hearts are changed and we have no more disposition to do evil.

A few years ago, Elder Hafen gave one of the best talks that I have ever heard on the atonement. It was titled “All for All.” He explained that Christ is willing to put all he has on the line to save us, as long as we do the same. Obviously, what He brings to the table is much greater, but he accepts our best effort as enough. He then talked about trials and sin as part of ever mortal experience. He said,

“Adam and Eve learned constantly from their often harsh experience. They knew how a troubled family feels. Think of Cain and Abel. Yet because of the Atonement, they could learn from their experience without being condemned by it. Christ’s sacrifice didn’t just erase their choices and return them to an Eden of innocence. That would be a story with no plot and no character growth. His plan is developmental—line upon line, step by step, grace for grace.
“So if you have problems in your life, don’t assume there is something wrong with you. Struggling with those problems is at the very core of life’s purpose. As we draw close to God, He will show us our weaknesses and through them make us wiser, stronger. If you’re seeing more of your weaknesses that just might mean you’re moving nearer to God, not farther away [12].”

We all have difficulties that must be worked on. It is not a punishment to correct our lives to put them more in line with our Father’s will. It is instead a great blessing. Repentance allows us to “learn from our experience without being condemned by it.”

Obviously, any of these tools: faith, the influence of the Holy Ghost, prayer, scripture study and repentance could be a topic all on its own. I use them here to merely illustrate some things that can help prepare us to enter the temple.

After the Bountiful Temple’s dedication in January of 1995, President Hunter fell very ill as cancer spread through his body. His February message in the Ensign again reiterated his urgency to get members of the church to the temple[13]. On March 3, 1995 he passed away[14], just short of nine months after being called as prophet. His prophetic tenure was brief, but his message was powerful and sank deep into the hearts of the saints worldwide.

Almost exactly a year later I went to the Logan temple to receive my own endowment in preparation to serve a mission, thinking that I had arrived at some great destination. Instead, my temple experience, even from that very first day, showed me what President Hunter meant by the temple being a symbol. The temple was not actually an end in itself; it was a preparation for entering one day into God’s presence. The temple teaches us what is necessary to return to him.

As I made covenants there and participated in ordinances, I knew I was committing myself to a lifetime of service to the Lord: the temple was a beautiful representation of all that was possible if I kept my covenants. Yet the most powerful symbol for me that day came as I joined four generations of my family in the Celestial room. I cried as the spirit filled my whole soul, truly realizing for the first time that one of the Lord’s greatest promises is that God will allow our most cherished relationships on this earth to continue into the eternities.

Fairy tales always wrap up everything nice and neat with a “happily ever after” at the end of the story. Real life, however, is not quite that neat. Our lives continue long after the highs and lows: indeed we know that our lives will continue forever and we will constantly learn and struggle and triumph along the way. Some months after my endowment, I was serving my mission in a huge country with but a single temple. President Hinckley visited that great country in 1997 to tell the people in each of the major cities he visited that they would soon have temples too. The Lord had seen the faith of his people in following the admonition to carry recommends even if they had little opportunity to go to the temple: He would bring the temples to them. The Saints wept for joy at the news and I caught the tiniest glimpse of the thousands upon thousands of Saints who had taken President Hunter’s words to heart.

Each day is a preparation for eternity. I pray that each of us will look carefully at our lives and prune away what is unnecessary and spend our time instead focused on what the Lord tells us matters the most.

I know that as we prepare to one day enter the Lord’s presence there is no better voice to follow than the prophet. I have a testimony that President Monson is a prophet today, and that the keys have been handed down, unbroken since Joseph Smith was given them more than a century and a half ago. I know the Book of Mormon is God’s work: another testament that Jesus is indeed the Christ and that he is the head of this Church. I saw these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.


[1] Jay M. Todd, “President Howard W. Hunter: Fourteenth President of the Church,” Ensign, Jul 1994, 2

[2] Howard W. Hunter, “The Great Symbol of Our Membership,” Ensign, Oct 1994, 2
[3] Howard W. Hunter, “‘Exceeding Great and Precious Promises’,” Ensign, Nov 1994, 7
[4] ”Bountiful Utah Temple Dedicated,” Ensign, Mar. 1995, 74–75
[5] “Faith in Every Footstep: The Epic Pioneer Journey,” Ensign, May 1997, 62

[6] K. Newell Dayley, “Faith in Every Footstep,” Liahona, Feb 1997, 22–23
[7] D & C 6:22-23

[8] John 14:26; note that Jesus refers to the idea of “comfort” two other times in this chapter—once in reference to the Holy Ghost (though some readings of this passage suggest that his reference to “another” comforter is in actuality a personal visitation from the Savior indicating your calling and election made sure) and the second time to his pledge not to leave the apostles “comfortless.” It is not exactly clear why, but it seems that the apostles were unable to have the full influence of the Holy Ghost while they had the Savior with them.
[9] Alma 37:36-37
[10] 2 Nephi 32:3; see also 2 Nephi 9:51 and 31:20 for more references to feasting and the scriptures written by Nephi. It should be remembered that Nephi had seen a vision of the end of the world. He knew, perhaps better than any writer in the Book of Mormon, that this record would be preserved for a people far removed from his own. He had a wonderful perspective on the importance of these scriptures, their coming forth, and what their restoration would mean for the history of mankind. In 2 Nephi 29 he talks at length about the necessity of a second witness and each time having its own scriptures. The incredible writing in that chapter shows his frustration with those who would one day reject the words he had spent his lifetime writing and protecting.
[11] Ezra Taft Benson, “Flooding the Earth with the Book of Mormon,” Ensign, Nov 1988, 4; the embedded reference is from the History of the Church 4:461 as well as the Book of Mormon’s introduction page.

[12] Bruce C. Hafen, “The Atonement: All for All,” Ensign, May 2004, 97. The embedded reference about weakness making us stronger is to Ether 12:27
[13] Howard W. Hunter, “A Temple-Motivated People,” Ensign, Feb 1995, 2
[14] “President Howard W. Hunter: The Lord’s ‘Good and Faithful Servant’,” Ensign, Apr 1995, 8