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You Have To Go Through It
Last week my daughter Allyson rediscovered a book that we have had for quite a while, “We are Going on a Bear Hunt,” Illustrated by Helen Oxenbury, and written by Michael Rosen. This small family, a dad with four little kids and their dog set out on a fine, sunshine filled day, to find a bear. Their journey is fraught with obstacles; mud, a dark forrest, a bog, a storm, and all manner of difficulties. Over and over, they realize, accept and enjoy going through the trial. “We can’t go over it, we can’t go under it, we have to go through it.” “Splighy, splashy, splishy, splashy.” This night, after a weekend celebrating my faith during General Conference, the evening hour beckons rest. We spent the afternoon listening to the apostles testifying and teaching, while on a Sunday drive on the Alpine Loop. My soul is filled to overflowing with love and gratitude to the Lord for his tender mercies, and his creative and colorful masterpiece of our world. The glorious autumn temperatures lure goldenrod from the fibers of the aspen trees. Great sparks of energy cry in triumph to a season filled with life, abundance and harvest, now long to lay down for a season, but not before a final trumpeting of testimony to the warmth and life of Jesus Christ. Later tonight, I again peruse my Facebook feed before retiring to bed, it was my friend’s would be 37th birthday. Cancer took its toll. He fell in the battle of life to this deadly foe after pushing through with valor and great faith. He left behind a wife, and two beautiful girls. On this evening, after my heart is filled to bursting with the glories of God, I absorb a moment of pain as I read her sweet words, “I changed your FB pics because I miss your face and was tired of that gnome. We all miss you like crazy. I asked the kids what they wanted to write, if anything and [our girl] immediately called out, “I love cheese.” So there you go. She ‘s totally your kid. Happy Birthday. Miss you all the time, especially today.” A lump forms in my through, the kind that burns. He was a great guy, a good friend, and super brother to one of my besties. The pain I feel comes from a deeper feeling, one that stretches past my soul, and feels the loss of another. I imagine for a moment the pain of loss in my own life, if I were to loose my partner, my lover, my friend. I can only imagine her pain, their loss, the days numbered until they meet again and her eyes can behold his angelic visitations, and beckoning forward. Tears stream down my face, as I feel, in some minuscule way the sense of loss and grief, even two years now since his death. There is a newly posted photo of my friend from several years ago. This giant man, with auburn hair is enveloping, protecting and loving his sweet little girl in an embrace. You can see both of their faces, content in the moment, one that should have lasted longer, but was cut short. In heaven he knows, he sees, he connects, he protects. But in our mortal frames, we are weakened to the veil of heaven, and protected from eternity’s gaze, if only...
read moreThe Sweet Fruit
In the Garden of Eden Satan tempted Eve to taste of a fruit, that was most delicious, and very desirable. “It will make you wise,” the serpent slithered. “You shall be as the gods, knowing good from evil.” Eve was our Mother, the first of this mortal world. While I cannot remember her with my mortal eyes, my spirit knows her. She is brave, the kind of courage that takes to be the first of a whole world to step into the world of new beginnings, knowing that everything you are working for, to return to Father, starts with you, with your womb, with your ability to give your will to God’s and take that first breath. Eve was beautiful, I don’t know that her beauty is perfect beauty, because there has to be beauty of the exalted ones, that would exceed that of a human. But she radiated light. Her faith was perfect. Her submission to Heavenly Father, and to her husband was perfect. Would it not take great faith to knowingly walk away from the innocence of the Garden of Eden, eyes wide open to the possibilities of pain, frustration, obstacles, loneliness, and childbirth? I do not know, or think she could understand all that awaited her, I cannot see what lies ahead in my mortal probation, but I know there are challenges yet ahead. I am bouyed up by her faith, her willingness to sacrifice her comfort so that she could progress, and I along with her. The beautiful fruit was from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Adam and Eve were commanded not to eat of this fruit. They were also commanded that they should multiply and replenish the earth, which they could not in their current state. After a conversation with the great tempter, even Lucifer himself, she came to know what action she would take. She would partake of the fruit. She had knowledge before she partook of the fruit, that it was to be, and then she ingested that fruit, the knowledge becoming part of who she was. And so Eve fell. With her beckoning, Adam too partook of the fruit. Alone his obedience would be fruitless to us all, and so he stayed with Eve, and they were cast out of the garden. “It is better that we pass through sorrow that we know good from the evil.” These spoken words are so humble, and so true. Through trials of adversity we suffer pains of affliction, sometimes unto death. We experience hardship, loss, frustration, defeat. I could create a list of my personal afflictions, but I won’t. Words on a page cannot adequately describe the pain one feels at loosing the child in a miscarriage, or watching the spirit of a loved one flee their mortal frame. A bullet point doesn’t accurately portray the deeply penetrating wounds experienced because of absolute betrayal, or the loss of a always missing parent. Why does it hurt when I never knew him to begin with? It is better that I lose a child, that I lose a grandparent, and that I lose and regain a brother, that I might know true love from temporary loss. It is better that I experience financial insecurity through debt so that I may know prudence from...
read moreLove, the great commandment
Jonny and I went to Harmon’s on Saturday. It was after our day long adventure in our tomato garden, stringing the gigantic stalks up to the heavens on this really cool rig that Jonny built. We had been weeding, trimming, and cleaning out are vegetable garden. Beautiful!! We took our starving family to Fong’s, our favorite local restaurant just down the street from our house, dropped the kids off at the house, and then went to Home Depot, for Jonny and Harmon’s for me. There we ran into our neighbor and friend from the ward. As we began to visit she told me about a special third hour Relief Society/Priesthood meeting that the Bishop was going to be teaching on Sunday about the LGBT community. Even though we were going to be gone in the morning to my cousin Morgan’s homecoming, I knew I wanted to attend. One of the characteristics about Bishop Vosti that I appreciate is his ability to enthusiastically love others. He understands the weight of sin, but his appetite for the Gospel allows him to help others brush off the shame of sin, and just get down to repenting. Satan loves Heavenly Father’s children to wallow in silence, alone feeling the burden of their mistakes, like there is no way out of the suffocating shackles. For weighty matters, with the help from a bishop, or a judge of Israel, that sin can be washed away by the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Bishop Vosti radiates the love of Jesus Christ, and exudes this spirit of hope, despite obstacles. I image his heart being totally clear, magnifying the love of our Savior, a conduit for the compassion, empathy and hope in our older brother. This meeting started out with a prayer, and reflection on the first and second great commandment, to love God with all our heart, mind, might and strength, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. This includes our gay and lesbian friends. He referred to a new church website, www.mormonandgays.com, where there are several videos from apostles, and individuals who either have someone in their family who is gay, or who is gay themselves. Here are some excerpts of text that are included from the website. Few topics are as emotionally charged or require more sensitivity than same-sex attraction. This complex matter touches on the things we care about most: our basic humanity, our relationship to family, our identity and potential as children of God, how we treat each other, and what it means to be disciples of Christ. Where the Church stands: The experience of same-sex attraction is a complex reality for many people. The attraction itself is not a sin, but acting on it is. Even though individuals do not choose to have such attractions, they do choose how to respond to them. With love and understanding, the Church reaches out to all God’s children, including our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters. What Needs to ChangeDallin H. Oaks of the Twelve Apostles This official website does not offer a comprehensive explanation of everything related to same-sex attraction, but it does reflect the feelings of Church leaders as to how we should treat each other as part of the human family. The site offers a place where the people whose lives are...
read moreThe Garden’s Teachings
I was having strange, creepy dreams last night, after having a pretty stressful, kind of awful day. Too much on my plate, too unorganized, working too ineffectively makes for a grumpy momma. The great news is that each day is a new day, and I am grateful to have my husband at my side. What have I learned about this? Number one, there is more to my circumstance than I can see. There are forces outside of my control that can influence my experiences. However, despite their influence, I am in control of my body, choices and attitudes. Number two, I am grateful that I can do hard things. Part of my on going story revolves around my fear of being left, or abandoned to do hard things alone. This irrational fear stems from a long string of experiences of men leaving me. In some regards there is truth to my stories, in other regards, mostly all, it is fabricated and woven in the breath of fear and lack. I am loved, I am complete, and I am safe, regardless of what circumstance I find myself. Even if the worst possibilities were to come into fruition, and I were left alone to care for my family, I am not really alone. Not at all. I am surrounded by angels, whom I feel often, and sense often. I am protected by the great power of the priesthood. I am strong. On my morning walk today I was listening to a conference talk about learning your personal family history stories. One general authority spoke of his early pioneer ancestors who were separated for 18 months while the husband went with the Mormon Battalion to serve in the United States Army. He left his wife with six kids, while she was pregnant, to cross the plains by herself. Wow! I thought. Heavenly Father knew that she was strong, I am sure she had difficult days, days filled with anguish in just surviving the turmoil of the early saints. Other days were so full in doing good works and caring for her large family that she probably didn’t even have time to remember that she was left “alone.” My burden is often heavy. I feel inadequate to accomplish every task, and to fulfill every requirement on my task list. The cleaning is left undone. The rooms are unorganized, the children are happy mostly, but often leave the doing of the day to my hounding and perpetual requesting and reminding. Work piles up, bills pile up, prayers pile in the corners and in the quiet moments of my day. And so I work, fast and furiously from the time I arise, to the time I go to bed, from kids, to house, to faith, to work, to kids, to family, to food, to cleaning, to bed. Anger builds up inside as my insecurities remind me of the burden that is mine to carry all alone. And yet, I am not. I am surrounded and loved. I am strong. I am a leader. I am thorough, I am honest and kind. I can do this. Just like Heavenly Father, and a sweet and concerned, and faithful husband followed the council of Brigham Young to leave his family, and allow his wife to lead the family...
read moreThe Sacrament
Each week we gather as members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. In reverence and solidarity we partake of God’s emblems through the sacrament to wash and sanctify our souls unto Him. Of the sacrament, Elder Holland testifies, “With a crust of bread, always broken, blessed, and offered first, we remember his bruised body and broken heart, his physical suffering on the cross where he cried, “I thirst,” and finally, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?1 As the Apostle Paul wrote, we were “bought with a price”2. What an expensive price and what a merciful purchase!” “O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it…” Years ago, as a student of the Jerusalem Center, my college aged peers blessed and passed the sacrament. The breathtaking view of the old city washed across the entire back of the chapel with clear glass windows opening up our eyes to the ancient scenes of the Bible playing out in modern time. We stood upon the hill just higher than the Garden of Gethsemane, and a little bit to the north. Heading down through the Kidron Valley, and up to the old city, you can see the outer walls of what used to be the city limits, now is just a simple marker of a time long ago. Below today’s cobble streets and modern strife resides another city, one of ancient day. Excavation efforts unearth the rubble, and ruins of the city that Jesus Christ lived in. At the end of his earthly ministry hoards of followers pressed for his presence, begging for mercy and miracles. Riding into the city upon the back of a lowly, but so symbolically royal donkey, the poverty stricken and government oppressed Jews reverenced their Lord, in hopes for a modern day miracle. He was after all, “the Lord of Lords, the Prince of Peace, and the government would be upon his shoulders,” but not before flesh stripping claws ripped through his back by the hands of the Romans. Once the crowds realized that Jesus Christ’s mission was not to alleviate their immediate strife, they betrayed their faith and submitted to anger. “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” “that they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal Father…“ A few of my friends and I were invited to share dinner with a local Jewish family who were welcoming in the Sabbath day with a feast. The hot desert air kept the patio warm, as we welcomed in the Lord’s day with a plethora of entrees and side dishes: they just kept coming; fish, chicken, beef, vegetables, salads and more! The full moon shone down on our invitation to belong. We sang hymns, laughed and heard stories. They too could be counted among the faithful, the original fold of Israel. Please remember the body of the Son of God, poverty stricken, dirty after wandering in the wilderness for 40 days with the companionship of Lucifer at his side. Please remember the hem of the Lord’s robe, with faith enough to be healed from her twelve year infirmity, the woman with her issue of blood needed just...
read moreMen, women. Women, men. Both needed, both loved. The end.
Spencer W. Kimball said, “In his wisdom and mercy, our Father made men and women dependent on each other for the full flowering of their potential. Because their natures are somewhat different, they can complement each other; because they are in many ways alike, they can understand each other. Let neither envy the other for their differences; let both discern what is superficial and what is beautifully basic in those differences, and act accordingly” (“Relief Society—Its Promise and Potential,” Ensign, Mar. 1976, 5). What are the fundamental purposes of having men and women? Why are we so different? What are we supposed to learn from each other and how can we serve one another? Can we successfully eliminate one gender to fulfill our own needs? What can we learn about cultural expectations and societal norms that do not reflect church doctrine or influence? How can we transform our households and our society into a place where church doctrine is sustained and cultural needs are being met for both genders? Men are strong. Men are instinctively competitive and quite often will stand up confidently for their own self worth, perceptions and responsibilities. Men have an innate desire to build and to accomplish. For the modern man this fulfillment can come from scholarly, professional or hobby interests. Men have a strong desire to be heard and to be validated. Men desire to protect, this includes loved ones, land, possessions and freedom. The heart of men, which pricked with love, is fiercely loyal. Often men protect their sensitive souls with a layer of hard work and onward movement. But this is not an indication of an inability to show or feel love, the opposite is true. Their affection can be seen with a never resting work ethic, a desire to improve one’s station by improving one’s mind and craft, and a seeking to fix the broken and abandoned projects of life, both physical and emotional. When connecting to a man’s softest heart, expect to feel totally flooded and encompassed with a deep an abiding attention. Men do not express their emotions a little, or with reserve. They unabashedly throw themselves in the path of their fondest, in hopes to receive a return of admiration. Men create the movement of society through ideas, inventions and organizations. Women are soft, compassionate, nurturing and smart. Woman have a god given ability to openly love, and to encourage growth. Women connect to others, including and especially to other women. Women receive from others and strive to improve their station through beauty, art, and order. Women hold sacred the hearth of creation. Within their breast comes the wellspring of life. The heart of women are more open to give love freely, and so are more vulnerable to heartache and pain. Women hold high their opportunity of leadership. Their influence is felt through words of encouragement, exploration of new ideas and a bolstering of confidence. Women bear the burden of balming rejection and failure with soothing words of hope and renewed faith. Women smile with their hearts and can share their devotion through words, music, order and sustenance. The ties forged in adversity can remain in tact throughout their entire lifetime. Women often face tragedy alone and require great inner strength to move forward, despite heartache, poor health...
read moreTemperance
Today a senior missionary stokes the once bellowed fire by a flick of a switch. Hot air taunts the red coals to sing heat into a lead stick. Now glowing the iron worker transplants the soft medal to a place where force can be applied over and over, molding and shaping a useless piece of iron into a tool. The blacksmith shop is one of many local businesses that worked all in conjunction with one another to create the prosperous and industrious Nauvoo. The once hard medal shaft glows in the fiery embers. In the heat of opposition God molds us into a working tool for the salvation of mankind. A few blocks away stands a modern building where bricks are created and shared. In times of old, Nauvoo was created from a swamp land. They drained the bog, and found a wellspring of natural clay from which to make bricks. From a fine sand, they would mix a bit of water and work until the perfect consistency was created. With a bit of pounding into a mold, thousands of bricks were neatly stacked in order to leave space underneath for large fires. These bricks needed to be cooked, and hardened to withstand the wet climate and vastly fluctuating temperatures. Even kilns in big cities couldn’t supply a space big enough for the four million bricks being produced annually in this budding community. And so they used the bricks as the kiln to bake the bricks. A fire in the belly of the make shift brick abode was created and covered with sand. The high temperatures singed the bricks closest to the flames, perfectly crisped the middle bricks and barely warmed the outside bricks. All of these bricks were uniform in size, and vastly different in their long term uses. The fierce solid blackened bricks are unpleasing to the eye, but very strong in statue. They are used as the center brick in a three brick walled home. They are sturdy and immovable. Wilford Woodruff thought that a two brick wall would suffice for his Nauvoo home, and the Cultural Hall. These structured benefitted from their quick building, and cost less because fewer bricks were required. However, when a tornado hit town, both of these convent structures were destroyed. When he built his home for the second time, he used the recommended three brick layers for each wall. That home was lived in by the Woodruff family for roughly 100 days before making their way on the exodus, but it still stands to this day. The bricks which are cooked perfectly come out as a vibrant red, they adorn the outside of the home, and can be seen throughout Nauvoo. The lightest cooked bricks are a dark salmon color. They are hardened, but the coloring is much softer. Our tour guide shares with us that these bricks are used for the interior home walls, and with a little white wash make for a perfect surface for a kitchen. Like life, often we experience the firery furnace. We have been worked to the right consistency, molded and now we face the heat of adversity. Each of us come out looking different, based on where we were and how we were cooked. But each of us has a divine plan...
read moreCarthage Conspiracy
The lush green surroundings seem to mock. The well springing of life that is provided by this landscape spreads in its vastness all around the deadly prison that held our sweet Prophet, Joseph Smith. Standing just two simple stories high, this jail was made from a honey colored natural rock. White windows adorn the wavy and inconsistent glass panes. Inside the family home included a prison awaiting trial cell as a side business. There were two holding rooms, one was a bedroom with a simple iron door that contained prisoners downstairs. On the second floor was a fierce dungeon room for the violent criminals. There is a pleasant and pioneer familiar kitchen. The accused would have paid a small fee for their food, which was provided by the Mrs. along with their candles, and any other usable commodity. Joseph was not alone, he was with his brother Hyrum, along with 7 other friends who showed their solidarity and commitment to the Prophet. Because this was not a long term cell, but only a holding compartment for those awaiting trial, Joseph’s friends were with him, and could do his bidding in preparation for the expected and upcoming appearance before a judge. These friends came and went as the prophet asked. In Nauvoo months earlier a terribly slanderous newspaper was created by those officials who desired the destruction of Joseph. Daily false stories, terrible accusations and fabricated lies were published and distributed throughout the Saint’s refuge city. In Illinois there was a nuisance law stating that if anything was a nuisance to the community, it could be done away with. And so one night a group of faithful saints did away with the paper. It did not simply vanish, but destroyed. The printing press and all of its thousands of tiny letters were sent into a wild fray of commotion. Along with Joseph and Hyrum 12 or so men were charged with rioting, and sent to prison with bail that posted at $500 per person! In those days that was a handsome fee. If gone to trial, the nuisance law would have upheld the Mormon’s unkosher method of ridding itself of the press, however the desire for the law enforcing officials was to house Joseph overnight, to see out their lurking and destructive plans for the Mormon’s leader. Houses were mortgaged and the $6500 was provided. The men were free to go. Carthage rests about 30 miles outside of Nauvoo. In today’s standards the ride takes just over a half an hour. Rolling hills and vast fields of growing corn adorn either side of the road. Small communities have popped up. The highway adorns contemporary advertisements for small businesses. Do they know who made this particular trek 175 years ago? Do they understand that this road parallels as a modern road to Golgotha? In ancient Israel Christ’s final days are well worn by the souls of believers. In show of admiration, condensation and belief Christians from all over the world walk his walk in remembrance of his sacrifice. Here to Carthage there is no procession. There are no signs. There is no trail. Only rows and rows of corn. Governor Boggs of Missouri tried on three separate occasions to extradite Joseph Smith to his state, to try him on false accounts. ...
read moreJoseph’s City
The city streets whisper stories from ancient days, long ago when travelers found refuge on the sandy shores of the Mississippi River. The green hillside slopes in reverence to the crystal white walls of the Saint’s ultimate life work, the temple. Sunstones cap the great pillars to eternal life and heralding calls of angels. Great billowing flames in the blacksmith shop stoke our hearts to look inward at our roots, in awe at their courage, their determination and willingness to follow, despite and in spite of the burning opposition of those who would stop the work from rolling forth. Lists of names lost, those who traveled west and those whose remains stay on hollowed ground, offer a wellspring of grief, and humility, at their willing sacrifice. The baker, Skovil, his ovens offered a warm, soft gingerbread cookie, and his broken heart followed him to England to serve a mission for the Lord. He lost his teenage son in Nauvoo. When his wife delivered baby girl twins, they lived just 13 days, and together the three took their last breaths on the same day. Those four graves remain in Nauvoo’s Old Burial Ground. The hallowed forest, on top of a rolling hill provides refuge for a plethora of birds whose calls serenade the curious wanderers. Great trees hover above, as if to protect and help sanctify the ground, their canopy height offers shade, and yet the slight cooling breeze between their emerald leaves gives way for shimmering light to penetrate into the soft and lush grassy floor. Worn and nearly forgotten, the tombs mark the location for remains, and yet it is nearly impossible to discern names or recognizable letters. Mr. Skovil found hope in the promises of the eternity, families can be together forever. A sketch of the temple, carried in his pocket, made the great journey across the pond as he preached the gospel to those whose hearts would hear. That simple drawing provided solace to the trials that could cause his faith to grow into bitter fruits of opposition. Yet his heart remained soft. The simple sketch was offered to an artist. With great care this beautiful art was transformed into 1800 works of china. A simple white platter was adorned with a blue sketch of the Nauvoo temple, outlined with the names of the prophet and the 12 apostles. Did he carry the plates himself? Or were they shipped? We do not know, however, 14 or so copies remain. One man’s grief found Elliad’s balm through the everlasting covenants of family in the temple. The center. What’s in my center? Old Nauvoo, the days when industry offered each willing adult an opportunity to be an expert, working as a single cog in a machine of growth and prosperity. The potter used his craft to provide working vessels for the entire city. Milk, water, cheese, container, transporter, organizing all of life’s needs. These vessels were hand crafted. The expert hands who molded and styled the earth’s clay into working pieces were practiced and fine tuned. Rough fingers used the kick spin for syntrifical force. To create symmetry, the potter was required to find the center. Round and round the plain mound of clay would go. With pressure in just the right location, his fingers worked the top of the...
read moreI Can See You & 30 Life Lessons
Dearest friend, Today is a wonderful day! Your birthday marks the moment when a new light came into this world. I hope you have enjoyed and absorbed all the love that is coming your way from friends and family who are celebrating this special day. You know that I love to write, and so on your special day I wanted to send you a bit of encouragement and love. My prayer is that my words may offer you a bit of sunshine in a moment filled with storms, or in the case of experiencing utter bliss. There are many ups and downs when it comes to life. While I have been blessed abundantly, I have also had my share of vicissitudes. This past year was a point of transformation in my journey. For many years, Jonny and I struggled fiercely, trying to figure out why things always seemed so hard. We worked frantically and yet we were faced with set backs and frustrations, we dealt with ongoing sickness and deep rooted sadness. One night, I went outside to take out the trash. The night sky blanketed our home. There was no moon, just darkness. And yet, the stars in the sky flickered tiny specks of hope, billions and billions of miles away. At the moment, Jonny and I talked about the eclipse of our lives, the time when everything seemed dark. I remember so poignantly, recognizing that this black moment would not last forever, we would, at some point feel and celebrate living in the full light of prosperity, happiness and abundance. “Some day we are going to look back on this moment.” Our circumstances did not change that night. But since then things have improved dramatically, financially, physically and with our happiness. We were required to face our challenges, some of which we created on our own, and some of which were tests that we had to pass through, and some of which were the effect of other’s choices. The culminating experience I had this year was taking my Dad’s family to be sealed in the temple. After years of feeling a deep an abiding sadness for his absence in my life, one that I could not measure or explain, the night we went to the temple, the light of God entered in my heart and healed every broken fiber. I don’t understand the Atonement in entirety, but only in a small measure. I can testify that every misgiving, challenge, or heartache can be healed if you continue walking in the light of the gospel. Now, I feel a great burden lifted. I feel happy. I feel more purpose and more able to create whatever I set my mind on. I can see you. Let me explain. You know when you were a kid, and something horrible happened. The kind of pain that is stuck in your gut, but you don’t want anyone else to know that you are suffering? For me this happened when I was maybe 14. I was traveling by myself to visit my cousin Sarah in Dallas. I had a layover in Denver and had to find the new gate all by myself. I got confused, went across this huge airport to a new terminal, only to discover the gate was where I had...
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