Yesterday was Mother's Day and, on that day, my son made his final call home from the mission field. He will be home in two months. I can't believe how fast the time has gone.
During our conversation I asked my son if he had any dinner appointments for Mother's Day. He said no.
He was transferred into this area only recently and he said they have a large ward and an empty dinner calendar all the time. No one feeds the missionaries in the ward. In his last area, the missionaries were often double-booked for dinners. Here they will go all week without a single invite from the members for anything...dinners, appointments. This ward just does not have a connection with their missionaries.
Well, I reacted as any mother would. I asked for the Relief Society President's name and number and said I would call and get things taken care of!! We laughed together and then he said no dinner appointment just meant he could visit with me longer.
Despite his laughter, my son is struggling to adjust to his last area. He loved the area he had been serving in and the work there kept four missionaries busy all the time. Now he is trying to stay focused on finishing strong in a ward where missionary work is being neglected by the members. Sadly, there are many wards like that across the church. Is your ward one of them?
Whenever missionaries have been in our area, I have regularly invited them for dinner...not because we could afford it easily but because I am a mother. I feel it is my duty to take care of these young missionaries in the same way I would want my sons cared for on their missions. Apparently other mothers do not feel the same way.
As a result of yesterday's phone call, here is part of an e-mail I sent to my son this morning:
As you mentioned your area, I had a couple of impressions come to me and maybe you've already had them. When you are younger in life, it is easy to think that decisions are made to "punish" you. I remember elders thinking they were being sent to certain areas or certain zones or linked up with certain companions because they were being punished by the mission president and that the mission president didn't like them. At times it was easy to think maybe the elders were right.
However, as I've gotten older I realize that adults do not make decisions based on what would be worst for someone. It is just the opposite. Adults look at a situation and they think...what would be the BEST decision here. I am sure the mission president looked at the area and he, too, thought, what would be the BEST decision here. Who would be the best missionary to send there? What does that area need to help the members start to click with the missionaries and get the work started? He sent you there because you were the BEST choice.
As for the empty dinner calendars...there is only one reason ward members do not invite missionaries to dinner...the missionaries. If your ward has not been inviting previous missionaries to dinner you will need to continue to work on earning their trust and friendship. It can take several months for a ward to change their attitude toward the missionaries if they've had some bad experiences in the past.
Most of the priesthood (those who have served missions at least) understand that all missionaries are imperfect. They tend to accept new missionaries faster than the women, so work with the brethren. Get involved in Young Men's and with the elders, etc.
Unfortunately, most women in the church have NOT served missions and they tend to expect the missionaries to walk on water all the time. When they notice a missionary is really just a young man who still gets mud on his shoes and splashes water on occasion, they can get very upset and turn away from the missionaries...kind of like what happened with your companion and the blessing situation before you arrived; or even with you and the mission leader's wife earlier in your mission.
Yes, as Paul advised young Timothy...who was suffering similar problems..."Let no man despise thy youth but be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity...Neglect not the gift that is in thee, which was given thee by the laying on of the hands...Meditate upon these things and give thyself wholly to them." (1 Tim 4:12-14)
"Them" could mean your talents and the Lord, but it could also mean the people in your area. Give yourself wholly to them for these last two months. Use your gifts and special talents to bless them and the work. The mission president did not send you there to punish you or forget about you for the last two months of your mission. He sent you there to change hearts and attitudes toward the missionary work, starting first with the members of that ward. He sent you there because he looked over his mission and knew that this decision was BEST. They need YOU whether they recognize that or not.
So, MEMBERS--I'm talking to you now--as you work with missionaries in your area remember they were sent to your area because they were the BEST for you. Remember, too, most of those missionaries are still in their teens. All have sacrificed tremendously to be in your area. They are supposed to learn and grow and be guided and helped by members on their missions. They aren't supposed to be perfect anymore than you are.
Still don't think the missionaries are 'worth' your effort? Notice the other teenagers around you and what they are doing right out of high school. Now look at those missionaries serving in your area. They don't even compare.
So, even if an elder shows up a bit muddy, a bit wet, or even very green...
...if you don't like his hairstyle, his tie, his gospel knowledge, or his personality...
...always remember he has made a choice and a sacrifice to serve God. He gave up something to be there. You can give up something to help him.
Remember, also, that God's ordained leaders--from apostles to mission presidents--have been guided by the Lord to send him to your area, your ward, your doorstep. Do not close the door on him. Do not reject the Lord in that way.
And always treat him as you would want some other mother treating your missionary son.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Going back to school at 49
As if working 50 to 60 hours a week and raising six children wasn’t enough on my plate, I added a helping of full-time school this spring. By the time my graduatation date finally rolls around this time, I will have crossed over the 50-year mark. I could even be a grandmother.
When my hubby graduated from college before me, he moved our family to rural Montana. At that time, the closest university was in another state and it did not have a secondary education program. Online classes were rare, expensive and not in courses I needed to finish my degree. With no other options available, I did what many young mothers do…I chose my family over my education.
Some years later, our family moved to within 30 minutes of a university. When my youngest entered school full-time I realized I was finally in a position to finish the degree I had started so many years earlier.
That excited thought was rapidly displaced by a long list of doubts, fears and despairs. Isn't that the way Satan loves to work--knock down your enthusiasm with naysaying? He doesn't even give you much chance to get a breath. The moment you think something would be cool, he's there telling you it's hopeless.
Well, here's what he told me.
I was too old to start now. Goodness, our first-born son was in college! He wouldn’t want to share text books with Mom!
(Actually, he was attending BYU and I would be going to a different school, so saving on text books was out of the question--though I am considering the idea with our second son!)
Okay, so I countered that attack because I wasn't really concerned with what my son or the younger college students would think. I had once been a younger college student with older students sprinkled into classes around me and I didn’t mind them--as long as they didn’t ask too many ‘old’ or dated questions and hold the class up too much with their reminiscing.
No one will hire you...you're too old. Okay, he did bump me back good on that one. Afterall, what chance did I have of being hired as a first-time teacher at age 50? That's almost retirement age! Why go through the expense and effort of school if it isn’t going to get me the job you want?
I think God countered on that fear. I literally found myself in several unplanned conversations with principals and superintendents—some I knew—some I did not. Each time, I believe those unexpected encounters were arranged by the Lord. So, I took advantage of them. I expressed my "old age" concern to them and asked their opinions. Each one readily answered that, grades being equal, they would hire a first-time teacher at my age with life experiences and real confidence over a fresh-out-of-college teacher with no life experiences and no confidence or, worse, cockiness or bravado. Their enthusiasm and support made me feel like I could finish my degree and then actually enter the world of teaching even if I was starting out in my 50s.
You won't be able to make school work Again, I was not worried about the academics portion. I’ve always been blessed with a sharp mind. However, I did find myself listening to this worry about making school fit with an already full and demanding life. Prayer and my patriarchal blessing helped me conquer this concern.
They won't accept your previous credits This fear may sound silly to some but I had been in my junior year when we moved away from educational opportunities. Would I have to start over? While waiting to hear back from several schools I took this agonizing fear to the Lord and received a very powerful answer. Even if no credits were accepted and I found myself starting completely over, this was what He wanted me to do. Case closed.
Making a move like this is dumb in this economy While many students work full-time and go to school full-time, my job was 50-60 hours a week with quite a bit of travel. I tried doing both for a while but it wasn’t working. Finally, my husband and I discussed financial options were I to quit my job. How could we make it work? I crunched numbers and lost sleep. What would going back to school do to my family financially? What if I had to quit my job to do it?
Still unsure, I asked for and received two priesthood blessings…one from my husband and another, a month later, from my brother when I visited with family in a distant state. Both blessings said the exact same thing. The Lord wanted me to pursue my education and the finances we needed would come. In answer to those blessings, my job did not want me to quit and they took great steps to accommodate me by letting me go part-time.
Yes, we have to tighten our financial belt at a time when the economy is a disaster and prices are rapidly rising, but we have the promise from the Lord that this is right and we will be fine. I can’t tell you how much peace that brings. I don’t have to make my decisions based on the price at the pump or the grocery store or watch the financial markets with fear. I know what the Lord wants me to do and what He has promised and that makes all the difference in the world.
When my hubby graduated from college before me, he moved our family to rural Montana. At that time, the closest university was in another state and it did not have a secondary education program. Online classes were rare, expensive and not in courses I needed to finish my degree. With no other options available, I did what many young mothers do…I chose my family over my education.
Some years later, our family moved to within 30 minutes of a university. When my youngest entered school full-time I realized I was finally in a position to finish the degree I had started so many years earlier.
That excited thought was rapidly displaced by a long list of doubts, fears and despairs. Isn't that the way Satan loves to work--knock down your enthusiasm with naysaying? He doesn't even give you much chance to get a breath. The moment you think something would be cool, he's there telling you it's hopeless.
Well, here's what he told me.
I was too old to start now. Goodness, our first-born son was in college! He wouldn’t want to share text books with Mom!
(Actually, he was attending BYU and I would be going to a different school, so saving on text books was out of the question--though I am considering the idea with our second son!)
Okay, so I countered that attack because I wasn't really concerned with what my son or the younger college students would think. I had once been a younger college student with older students sprinkled into classes around me and I didn’t mind them--as long as they didn’t ask too many ‘old’ or dated questions and hold the class up too much with their reminiscing.
No one will hire you...you're too old. Okay, he did bump me back good on that one. Afterall, what chance did I have of being hired as a first-time teacher at age 50? That's almost retirement age! Why go through the expense and effort of school if it isn’t going to get me the job you want?
I think God countered on that fear. I literally found myself in several unplanned conversations with principals and superintendents—some I knew—some I did not. Each time, I believe those unexpected encounters were arranged by the Lord. So, I took advantage of them. I expressed my "old age" concern to them and asked their opinions. Each one readily answered that, grades being equal, they would hire a first-time teacher at my age with life experiences and real confidence over a fresh-out-of-college teacher with no life experiences and no confidence or, worse, cockiness or bravado. Their enthusiasm and support made me feel like I could finish my degree and then actually enter the world of teaching even if I was starting out in my 50s.
You won't be able to make school work Again, I was not worried about the academics portion. I’ve always been blessed with a sharp mind. However, I did find myself listening to this worry about making school fit with an already full and demanding life. Prayer and my patriarchal blessing helped me conquer this concern.
They won't accept your previous credits This fear may sound silly to some but I had been in my junior year when we moved away from educational opportunities. Would I have to start over? While waiting to hear back from several schools I took this agonizing fear to the Lord and received a very powerful answer. Even if no credits were accepted and I found myself starting completely over, this was what He wanted me to do. Case closed.
Making a move like this is dumb in this economy While many students work full-time and go to school full-time, my job was 50-60 hours a week with quite a bit of travel. I tried doing both for a while but it wasn’t working. Finally, my husband and I discussed financial options were I to quit my job. How could we make it work? I crunched numbers and lost sleep. What would going back to school do to my family financially? What if I had to quit my job to do it?
Still unsure, I asked for and received two priesthood blessings…one from my husband and another, a month later, from my brother when I visited with family in a distant state. Both blessings said the exact same thing. The Lord wanted me to pursue my education and the finances we needed would come. In answer to those blessings, my job did not want me to quit and they took great steps to accommodate me by letting me go part-time.
Yes, we have to tighten our financial belt at a time when the economy is a disaster and prices are rapidly rising, but we have the promise from the Lord that this is right and we will be fine. I can’t tell you how much peace that brings. I don’t have to make my decisions based on the price at the pump or the grocery store or watch the financial markets with fear. I know what the Lord wants me to do and what He has promised and that makes all the difference in the world.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Football miracle
This is a difficult blog to write. You may remember me blogging about football and the passion my son has for the sport. I have also written about those frightening hits in football that everyone hears. My son was involved in one of those frightening hits during football camp. It was the kind of hit that causes the coaches on both sides of the line to feel their stomachs lurch and send them all running onto the field even before the players have climbed back to their feet.
But my son didn’t get back on his feet.
He lay on the field, his limbs convulsing spontaneously—the sign of severe spinal trauma. Though he remained conscious, he was unable to feel anything below his neck. He later told me it was the most frightening two or three minutes he has ever experienced.
When feeling did return to his limbs he knew one of his coaches was kneeling beside him, tightly holding his hand. “Mom, Coach Bryan never let go of my hand the rest of the time,” he said. "He stayed right there with me the whole time."
And they took time with him.
Finally, after taking all the precautions--including immobilizing his neck--the trainers and emergency staff decided he had experienced a severe back spasm. It was a hot day and my son has had leg cramps before. They iced his back and my son asked to go back into the game. He pestered. He said he was fine, just a bit sore. Reluctant, the coaches finally agreed.
My son finished that game as their running back and defensive end. An hour later he played, both ways, for a second full game.
In his positions he was a constant target. Each tackle, he told me, brought him excruciating pain. Even his head hurt with every step.
In one touchdown run, pain kept him from diving over the goal line and he was brought down one yard short. At any other time he would have made those final three feet but he told me later “it hurt too much Mom. I couldn’t do it.” He felt bad, genuinely hurt, that he'd let his teammates down.
No one knew he was playing with his back broken in two places.
When I picked up my son after the camp I knew instantly something was wrong. I could see it in his eyes. They were a different color.
We took him into the doctor and discovered the broken vertebrae and the dislocated neck.
The doctor told him he was lucky. He could have been paralyzed at any time. He was amazed my son had kept playing--even more amazed he had gotten up and walked away from each subsequent tackle.
Later, a back specialist confirmed what the first doctor told us. Then he said, “you need to realize how serious this injury is. If anything had been even a fraction of an inch different, you’d be in a wheelchair right now and you’d be there for the rest of your life.”
My son--who is so passionate about the game that he played football for two hours with a broken back--wept uncontrollably...not because of the possibilities but because of the reality. His football career was over. And I wept right along with him. There is deep, deep pain in seeing something taken from your child that means so much to him!
At some point, when the doctors left us alone, I told him, "Even though you don't feel like this is a blessing right now, you need to realize that the Lord truly protected you during that accident and has blessed you in every single step you've taken since."
Then I made a call to my husband who was out of town. He, too, was devasated--made worse by the distance and his inability to get back to us.
Though he couldn’t be there that night, he fulfilled his role as husband and father perfectly. He called a close friend and asked him to give our son a priesthood blessing that night.
The friend did--changing his schedule to help us through our crisis.
The blessing was the most amazing experience I and my son have ever had. Promises were made that astounded all of us, even our friend. The Spirit was tremendously strong...and with it came understanding and courage to move forward. And hope for my son's future.
Tonight my son is going to his team’s preseason scrimmage game. He will be on the sidelines, encouraging his teammates while wearing a back brace. But he will be standing and walking that sideline, something the doctors say is a miracle.
Because of the gift of the priesthood, we know that many more miracles are still ahead of him. I am anxious to see the 'other' miracles my son will experience in his life.
<--My son breaking tackles and heading for the goal line. His determination on the field follows him off the field, too.
Watching from the sidelines. He was never content to sit there long and, even with a broken back, he still isn't content to sit there. He now goes to every practice and helps with the coaching. His teammates have commented how much they appreciate having him there with them. -->
<-- Ready to face whatever is coming. Though his senior year dreams have suddenly changed, he's still ready to face whatever is coming.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
A lesson from the earth.
Lately I’ve been enjoying some conversations about science and religion with Church members who are involved in various scientific fields. Like them, I believe religion and science are more closely connected than we now know; and I disagree with scientists who say you can’t believe in God if you want to accept science. Phooey. (Those who claim that are probably too closed minded to even be in the scientific field. We all know any scientist worth his salt would never throw out any possibility.)
The other day, as I was doing some scientific and doctrinal research into the history of the world and its future, I made a startling, yet comforting realization.
Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints know that when God created the earth it was in a paradisiacal or terrestial state. Not fully glorified, but pretty close. Then Adam fell and that affected everything. (We also know that no choice affects you and you alone.) At that time the earth also ‘fell’ and became the telestial world we now know.
So here we all are: telestial bodies living on a telestial world.
Latter-day Saints also understand that when Christ comes again the world will “be renewed and receive its paradisiacal glory.” (See 10th Article of Faith.) Again, not fully glorified, but pretty close. During that time men on earth, under the direction of the Savior, will work hard to burn the leftovers of war, beat their swords into plows and restore the earth to its Edenic state. It will take time, years, to restore what was lost and fix the damage done.
Then, following this millennium of time, peace and work, the earth will then pass away “and there shall be a new heaven and a new earth.” This ‘new earth’ shall be our earth in its glorified “sanctified, immortal and eternal state.” (See Revelations 4, D&C 29:22-24 and D&C 77.)
Can you see a familiar pattern there? The earth existed in God’s presence--not yet glorified but pretty good. It fell and left His presence, becoming a telestial sphere. Christ will return to the earth to help restore the earth to a higher state—not yet glorified but pretty good. Then, when all things are ready, the earth will finally be glorified.
It has taken, and will continue to take, quite a bit of time to get the earth glorified. In fact, you could say the creation of the earth still is not complete. It’s an ongoing process.
Now, people quibble over the age of the earth depending on whether they view the earth scientifically or Biblically. (And even those who believe in the Bible quarrel about the length of the creative period: was it six literal days or six figurative days?)
But the age of the earth really doesn’t matter. What matters is the lesson we learn from the earth and the hope it can give us. However you look at it, the earth has been in existence for a tad bit longer than my 48 years and it still is not glorified! It is still a work in progress.
Now, if the earth has been given that much time and even promised the personal help of the Savior to get it sanctified and ready to meet God, doesn’t the same truth apply to you and me? The worth of souls in great in the eyes of the Lord. We are His greatest creation! His entire work is directed at helping us become glorified; and He plans for it to take a bit longer than 48 years.
Whew!
We don’t have to be perfect now. Our children and spouses don’t have to be perfect now. Neither do our neighbors. We just need to keep heading in that direction and appreciate the pattern He lovingly and quietly shared with us when He placed us on this wonderful work in progress we call Earth. The Earth is our testimony of hope.
.
The other day, as I was doing some scientific and doctrinal research into the history of the world and its future, I made a startling, yet comforting realization.
Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints know that when God created the earth it was in a paradisiacal or terrestial state. Not fully glorified, but pretty close. Then Adam fell and that affected everything. (We also know that no choice affects you and you alone.) At that time the earth also ‘fell’ and became the telestial world we now know.
So here we all are: telestial bodies living on a telestial world.
Latter-day Saints also understand that when Christ comes again the world will “be renewed and receive its paradisiacal glory.” (See 10th Article of Faith.) Again, not fully glorified, but pretty close. During that time men on earth, under the direction of the Savior, will work hard to burn the leftovers of war, beat their swords into plows and restore the earth to its Edenic state. It will take time, years, to restore what was lost and fix the damage done.
Then, following this millennium of time, peace and work, the earth will then pass away “and there shall be a new heaven and a new earth.” This ‘new earth’ shall be our earth in its glorified “sanctified, immortal and eternal state.” (See Revelations 4, D&C 29:22-24 and D&C 77.)
Can you see a familiar pattern there? The earth existed in God’s presence--not yet glorified but pretty good. It fell and left His presence, becoming a telestial sphere. Christ will return to the earth to help restore the earth to a higher state—not yet glorified but pretty good. Then, when all things are ready, the earth will finally be glorified.
It has taken, and will continue to take, quite a bit of time to get the earth glorified. In fact, you could say the creation of the earth still is not complete. It’s an ongoing process.
Now, people quibble over the age of the earth depending on whether they view the earth scientifically or Biblically. (And even those who believe in the Bible quarrel about the length of the creative period: was it six literal days or six figurative days?)
But the age of the earth really doesn’t matter. What matters is the lesson we learn from the earth and the hope it can give us. However you look at it, the earth has been in existence for a tad bit longer than my 48 years and it still is not glorified! It is still a work in progress.
Now, if the earth has been given that much time and even promised the personal help of the Savior to get it sanctified and ready to meet God, doesn’t the same truth apply to you and me? The worth of souls in great in the eyes of the Lord. We are His greatest creation! His entire work is directed at helping us become glorified; and He plans for it to take a bit longer than 48 years.
Whew!
We don’t have to be perfect now. Our children and spouses don’t have to be perfect now. Neither do our neighbors. We just need to keep heading in that direction and appreciate the pattern He lovingly and quietly shared with us when He placed us on this wonderful work in progress we call Earth. The Earth is our testimony of hope.
.
Monday, June 28, 2010
The clock is ticking.
My neighbor didn’t see me in the gym this morning and, upon arriving home, discovered the reason. I was in the yard, weeding. We laughed when I explained I’d probably be more sore after weeding than after hitting the treadmill.
The truth is, with limited time I had to make a choice.
Our conversation stayed with me as I dug and pulled at more weeds around the yard. I reflected on the choices we have to make every day and the fact that no one has enough time to accomplish everything on their “to do” list.
That means things will be left undone.
No one has enough money to handle every situation that comes their way. That means there will be financial stress.
No one has enough self-esteem that they don’t feel pain. That means there will be hurt and aching hearts.
The test was never meant to be about what we would do with enough. If so, we would all have enough, and to spare.
The test, then, is about what we will do when there is not enough. Will we still choose the Lord?
When time is tight, will we still go to church on Sunday or will we choose to work, recreate, or relax? With limited time, will we choose to read the scriptures each day or pray, or will we choose some other worldly thing to fill our day?
When money is tight, will we still choose to share tithes and offerings with the Lord? Will we choose to send our children on missions or go ourselves? Will we serve others with those funds, or will we spend that money on things for us?
When someone offends us, will we choose to do as the Lord has asked and forgive them, or repent and change if they are right? Or will we choose to brood and sulk, blame others, blame the church, or even blame the Lord?
Each choice truly is ours.
Our love for the Lord isn’t found in a singular decision of devotion that will carry us for the rest of our life. It is announced in each of those daily, quiet moments when we realize we don’t have enough. Will we still choose the Lord?
.
The truth is, with limited time I had to make a choice.
Our conversation stayed with me as I dug and pulled at more weeds around the yard. I reflected on the choices we have to make every day and the fact that no one has enough time to accomplish everything on their “to do” list.
That means things will be left undone.
No one has enough money to handle every situation that comes their way. That means there will be financial stress.
No one has enough self-esteem that they don’t feel pain. That means there will be hurt and aching hearts.
The test was never meant to be about what we would do with enough. If so, we would all have enough, and to spare.
The test, then, is about what we will do when there is not enough. Will we still choose the Lord?
When time is tight, will we still go to church on Sunday or will we choose to work, recreate, or relax? With limited time, will we choose to read the scriptures each day or pray, or will we choose some other worldly thing to fill our day?
When money is tight, will we still choose to share tithes and offerings with the Lord? Will we choose to send our children on missions or go ourselves? Will we serve others with those funds, or will we spend that money on things for us?
When someone offends us, will we choose to do as the Lord has asked and forgive them, or repent and change if they are right? Or will we choose to brood and sulk, blame others, blame the church, or even blame the Lord?
Each choice truly is ours.
Our love for the Lord isn’t found in a singular decision of devotion that will carry us for the rest of our life. It is announced in each of those daily, quiet moments when we realize we don’t have enough. Will we still choose the Lord?
.
Friday, May 28, 2010
The parable and miracle of the goldfish
Our day started out with a death and a trash can burial. A silver-colored goldfish, named Smokey, jumped out of the aquarium at some point in the night and we found him on the floor this morning—stiff and dry. All traces of water on the hardwood floor from his unexpected arrival in our waterless world had long since dried up. Even the floor directly beneath his body was dry.
Four years ago, we purchased Smokey from a tank of mostly dead and sickly feeder goldfish. He cost us 10 cents. We had saved him, along with several others feeder fish that day. Now our rescue fish was dead, lying on the hardwood floor, dark and stiff.
Feeling sorrow for his lonely death, I picked him up by the hard tail fin, carried him into the kitchen and buried him in the trash can. At the breakfast table, my children saw and they, too, expressed sadness at his demise. After all, Smokey had lived for several years, grown to be the second largest in size, and was the only silver goldfish in the group.
During breakfast my children reminisced about Smokey while I started doing dishes. But I keep hearing the Spirit whisper to me. “Don’t give up on him yet. Don’t let him die this way. Give him a chance to live.”
You may recall the Spirit's whispering on behalf of the world's grumpiest cockatiel (see blog dated....) Yet this fish was dead. This whispering was after the trauma, not before.
Then I recalled a similar fish incident years ago, when my firstborn child was only two. He decided to go ‘fishing’ in our tank and managed to catch one of the fish. When he proudly told my of his feat I looked in the tank and, sure enough, one fish was missing. I went searching for the fish. After an hour and a half I found him. He had flipped up under the couch and was dry and stiff. As I picked up my son’s ‘catch’ to throw it in the trash can I saw its gill move. Quickly I filled a bowl with water and dropped in the fish. He started breathing and went on to live for several more years.
Now, as I did the dishes, the whispering continued. “Don’t give up on him yet. Don’t let him die like this. Give him a chance to live.”
So, when my children were not looking, I retrieved Smokey from the trash can, filled up a bowl with water from his fish tank and dropped in the fish. By this time he had been in the trash can for 45 minutes and on the floor for much longer (possibly hours) yet, amazingly, he immediately responded and started to breathe.
I still didn’t tell my children—I didn’t want them to get their hopes up—so I sent them to school and continued to watch Smokey’s recovery. Within an hour he was swimming upright, though rather slowly, and I put him back into the tank.
I then went to the gym to workout. While on the treadmill my heart, and even my prayers, went out to this little fish. I don’t feel guilty praying for animals. I don't feel anyone should. I have come to know in my life that God loves all His creations, even the animals.
As I jogged I realized that Smokey had not jumped out of the tank on purpose. In the guise of ‘having a good time’ Smokey obviously went a bit too far and landed outside the safety of the water. There he found himself alone and needing help. He floundered and fought for life yet could do nothing to save himself until, finally, he succumbed to the consequences of his actions.
And I saw a gospel parallel. Often, in the guise of ‘having a good time,’ people go a bit too far and land outside the safety of the living water of the gospel. They break the commandments, they don’t feel they need to be in Church, but they are floundering and, soon enough, they will face the full effects of their actions. If someone isn’t there to help them, the consequences can result in spiritual death, the drying up of a testimony and the stiffening of a soul.
And then I thought of those people I know who are struggling to live outside of the gospel. They break the commandments and think they are happy but I see their floundering, gaping, open-mouth attempts and I know that, sooner or later, they will face the full effects of their actions.
We all know and love people like that. Maybe we see them and feel they are, somehow, too far gone to help. We may have even mentally placed them in the trash can of life, claiming they are gone for good, yet “Don’t give up on him yet” is powerful advice for all of us. The Lord runs on a different timetable. He doesn't care how long we've laid spiritual dead or even in the trash can. He just wants someone to pull out each precious soul and give them a chance to live. There is no one so far gone, or so long gone that the Savior cannot yet reach them. We just have to keep trying. We should never give up on anyone.
And the Spirit also taught me another truth. By not telling my children that I had placed Smokey back into a bowl of water, I thought I was protecting them from disappointment in case he should die later. What the Spirit told me was that I had cut Smokey off from the power of their prayers. That was not a door for me to close for anyone or anything.
So, as I ran on the treadmill this morning I prayed for those friends of mine outside of the living water of the Gospel. If the Lord clearly tells me to not give up on a goldfish, I know He does not want me to give up on them.
I also prayed prayed for forgiveness for not allowing my children to tap into the greatest power they possess…the power of prayer. I asked that my lesson to learn be mine alone, without Smokey or my children suffering.
And the Lord heard those prayers. Smokey is swimming with more strength and his fins are starting to open again.
Great miracles and lessons often come in little packages.
Four years ago, we purchased Smokey from a tank of mostly dead and sickly feeder goldfish. He cost us 10 cents. We had saved him, along with several others feeder fish that day. Now our rescue fish was dead, lying on the hardwood floor, dark and stiff.
Feeling sorrow for his lonely death, I picked him up by the hard tail fin, carried him into the kitchen and buried him in the trash can. At the breakfast table, my children saw and they, too, expressed sadness at his demise. After all, Smokey had lived for several years, grown to be the second largest in size, and was the only silver goldfish in the group.
During breakfast my children reminisced about Smokey while I started doing dishes. But I keep hearing the Spirit whisper to me. “Don’t give up on him yet. Don’t let him die this way. Give him a chance to live.”
You may recall the Spirit's whispering on behalf of the world's grumpiest cockatiel (see blog dated....) Yet this fish was dead. This whispering was after the trauma, not before.
Then I recalled a similar fish incident years ago, when my firstborn child was only two. He decided to go ‘fishing’ in our tank and managed to catch one of the fish. When he proudly told my of his feat I looked in the tank and, sure enough, one fish was missing. I went searching for the fish. After an hour and a half I found him. He had flipped up under the couch and was dry and stiff. As I picked up my son’s ‘catch’ to throw it in the trash can I saw its gill move. Quickly I filled a bowl with water and dropped in the fish. He started breathing and went on to live for several more years.
Now, as I did the dishes, the whispering continued. “Don’t give up on him yet. Don’t let him die like this. Give him a chance to live.”
So, when my children were not looking, I retrieved Smokey from the trash can, filled up a bowl with water from his fish tank and dropped in the fish. By this time he had been in the trash can for 45 minutes and on the floor for much longer (possibly hours) yet, amazingly, he immediately responded and started to breathe.
I still didn’t tell my children—I didn’t want them to get their hopes up—so I sent them to school and continued to watch Smokey’s recovery. Within an hour he was swimming upright, though rather slowly, and I put him back into the tank.
I then went to the gym to workout. While on the treadmill my heart, and even my prayers, went out to this little fish. I don’t feel guilty praying for animals. I don't feel anyone should. I have come to know in my life that God loves all His creations, even the animals.
As I jogged I realized that Smokey had not jumped out of the tank on purpose. In the guise of ‘having a good time’ Smokey obviously went a bit too far and landed outside the safety of the water. There he found himself alone and needing help. He floundered and fought for life yet could do nothing to save himself until, finally, he succumbed to the consequences of his actions.
And I saw a gospel parallel. Often, in the guise of ‘having a good time,’ people go a bit too far and land outside the safety of the living water of the gospel. They break the commandments, they don’t feel they need to be in Church, but they are floundering and, soon enough, they will face the full effects of their actions. If someone isn’t there to help them, the consequences can result in spiritual death, the drying up of a testimony and the stiffening of a soul.
And then I thought of those people I know who are struggling to live outside of the gospel. They break the commandments and think they are happy but I see their floundering, gaping, open-mouth attempts and I know that, sooner or later, they will face the full effects of their actions.
We all know and love people like that. Maybe we see them and feel they are, somehow, too far gone to help. We may have even mentally placed them in the trash can of life, claiming they are gone for good, yet “Don’t give up on him yet” is powerful advice for all of us. The Lord runs on a different timetable. He doesn't care how long we've laid spiritual dead or even in the trash can. He just wants someone to pull out each precious soul and give them a chance to live. There is no one so far gone, or so long gone that the Savior cannot yet reach them. We just have to keep trying. We should never give up on anyone.
And the Spirit also taught me another truth. By not telling my children that I had placed Smokey back into a bowl of water, I thought I was protecting them from disappointment in case he should die later. What the Spirit told me was that I had cut Smokey off from the power of their prayers. That was not a door for me to close for anyone or anything.
So, as I ran on the treadmill this morning I prayed for those friends of mine outside of the living water of the Gospel. If the Lord clearly tells me to not give up on a goldfish, I know He does not want me to give up on them.
I also prayed prayed for forgiveness for not allowing my children to tap into the greatest power they possess…the power of prayer. I asked that my lesson to learn be mine alone, without Smokey or my children suffering.
And the Lord heard those prayers. Smokey is swimming with more strength and his fins are starting to open again.
Great miracles and lessons often come in little packages.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
They had it without me.
For years I have wanted to go to a writer's conference but, alas, timing, distance and money have all conspired to keep me away from those gatherings of verbiage and knowledge. Finally, however, I learned of a writer’s conference that would fit my schedule, my budget, and my travel constraints. So, I sent in my fees almost two months ago, reserved a spot at the conference, marked the date on my calendar, submitted my first chapter for critique, and waited.
This morning I arose bright and early and left the house shortly after 5:30 a.m. to make the three and a half hour drive to the much anticipated conference.
But this time a late spring blizzard was my conspirator and I managed to travel only 80 miles in two and a half hours.
Earlier this week I had a feeling I should not attend the conference. Now, traveling through a steep, unplowed mountain pass those feelings increased until I could not shake the impression that I should turn around. For miles I fought the impression, prayed for guidance and, finally, managed to bring the car to a stop in the deepening snow. But there I hesitated. I wanted to go to the conference!
Yet the impression would not leave and finally, very reluctantly, I followed the prompting and turned around.
Ten miles down the mountain my human side returned. I turned my car around and headed back toward the conference. After all, I really wanted to go. Besides, I’m a Montanan. I’m used to driving in snow storms. It’s what we do.
As I headed toward the conference the impression returned, stronger this time. If you go, it said, the trip will be dangerous for you. You need to be home today.
It took several miles before I listened to the prompting. Feeling sad about not going, I turned the car toward home again, consoling myself that it is never wrong to choose family over other things.
This time, though, I only made it about five miles down the road when I started arguing the prompting and justifying the trip. I’d paid a non-refundable fee. I had wanted to go to a conference for years and this one was close, relatively speaking.
So I stopped justifying and decided I was going to the conference--no arguing about it. I turned around again and headed back toward the conference when a powerful voice said, Terri, do not go. I will not tell you again.
Okay. That caught my attention and this time I turned back toward home, for good.
Yet I cried over the decision. I really, really wanted to go to the conference. Worse, I wasn’t sure the impressions had come from the Lord or my own subconscious. Because of that, I felt added frustration I may have chosen wrong.
Don’t you wish you could see into the future and know for sure if your decision was really the one He wanted you to make?
That is when I felt a whispering in my mind. On those times when we make a decision because we think, hope, we are following the Lord—He is still pleased.
Remember when your young child tried to please you by making breakfast? I bet you smiled warmly and gave that child a big hug even though the eggs were not cooked, the toast was burned, and orange juice had spilled on the counter and floor. Why? Because it was the sincere effort that pleased you, not the outcome.
And I realized this morning the Lord often feels that same way about us.
It's the effort to follow Him, not the outcome, that means so much to Him.
.
This morning I arose bright and early and left the house shortly after 5:30 a.m. to make the three and a half hour drive to the much anticipated conference.
But this time a late spring blizzard was my conspirator and I managed to travel only 80 miles in two and a half hours.
Earlier this week I had a feeling I should not attend the conference. Now, traveling through a steep, unplowed mountain pass those feelings increased until I could not shake the impression that I should turn around. For miles I fought the impression, prayed for guidance and, finally, managed to bring the car to a stop in the deepening snow. But there I hesitated. I wanted to go to the conference!
Yet the impression would not leave and finally, very reluctantly, I followed the prompting and turned around.
Ten miles down the mountain my human side returned. I turned my car around and headed back toward the conference. After all, I really wanted to go. Besides, I’m a Montanan. I’m used to driving in snow storms. It’s what we do.
As I headed toward the conference the impression returned, stronger this time. If you go, it said, the trip will be dangerous for you. You need to be home today.
It took several miles before I listened to the prompting. Feeling sad about not going, I turned the car toward home again, consoling myself that it is never wrong to choose family over other things.
This time, though, I only made it about five miles down the road when I started arguing the prompting and justifying the trip. I’d paid a non-refundable fee. I had wanted to go to a conference for years and this one was close, relatively speaking.
So I stopped justifying and decided I was going to the conference--no arguing about it. I turned around again and headed back toward the conference when a powerful voice said, Terri, do not go. I will not tell you again.
Okay. That caught my attention and this time I turned back toward home, for good.
Yet I cried over the decision. I really, really wanted to go to the conference. Worse, I wasn’t sure the impressions had come from the Lord or my own subconscious. Because of that, I felt added frustration I may have chosen wrong.
Don’t you wish you could see into the future and know for sure if your decision was really the one He wanted you to make?
That is when I felt a whispering in my mind. On those times when we make a decision because we think, hope, we are following the Lord—He is still pleased.
Remember when your young child tried to please you by making breakfast? I bet you smiled warmly and gave that child a big hug even though the eggs were not cooked, the toast was burned, and orange juice had spilled on the counter and floor. Why? Because it was the sincere effort that pleased you, not the outcome.
And I realized this morning the Lord often feels that same way about us.
It's the effort to follow Him, not the outcome, that means so much to Him.
.
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