I almost always have a little notebook, journal, or pad with me in case I need to write something down. It could be a thought that needs to be recorded before I forget it, or it could be something I hear or read that I need to jot down. I've even been known to scribble things on receipts and checkbook covers when browsing through Barnes & Noble. When I look back over notes that I've recorded in church meetings, I'm amazed at their truth...and a little disconcerted that I might have lost them forever had I not taken the time to write them.
That said, I discovered these thoughts in an old notebook this morning: "Remember the woman at the well story. Christ did three things: He defended her, he loved and cared for her, and he gently instructed her. We need to show more love and appreciation for those we love and to live the higher law. Wouldn’t it be great if we knew that everyone in the ward was going to defend us and that they all loved us?"
I don't know who gave that talk, but whoever it was, thank you for the reminder.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Our Children
I have Mary on my mind again today. I’ve been rereading passages from Jesus the Christ by Talmadge and was particularly captivated by his comments about Mary’s understanding of her son and his divine mission. Remember when she and Joseph were on the way home from Jerusalem and discovered that Jesus was not among them? They returned to the temple and found him talking with the learned rabbis and told him that they had been worried about him. Seemingly surprised, he answered, “How is it that ye sought me? Wist ye not that I must be about my Father’s business?”
Mary was his mother; about that the scriptures are clear. At this juncture, however, it’s almost as if she has forgotten her son’s divine paternity. Joseph was not his father, and his father had not been looking for him for he was at that moment in his father’s house. Nevertheless, recognizing Joseph’s and his mother’s guardianship of him, Jesus left with them for Nazareth.
According to Talmadge, Mary appears to have never really understood her son and states, “He was hers, and yet in a very real sense not wholly hers.” I’ve read that sentence over and over again with this thought: That’s the same with all children. They’re ours but not really wholly ours. They all have their spark of divinity, and we as mothers are responsible for giving them birth and guiding and loving them.
I think all mothers have experienced moments when we’ve asked ourselves questions such as, “Where did this child come from?” “Where did she or he get this particular talent or propensity?” "Why can't I make him do what I want him to (we know best, right?)" I think these moments become increasingly frequent as our children advance into the teen years. By the time they’re young adults, sometimes they seem like strangers to us. Where did the swaddled infant go? How did this child get to be so savvy, knowledgeable, opinionated, aloof, or whatever the adjective might be?
It sort of reminds me of the passage from Kahlil Gibran’s “On Children.” I’m not comparing us to Mary. I’m saying that our children are not truly ours. They belong to God. They have their own hearts and minds, and they’re on loan to us for a while.
On Children
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
Mary was his mother; about that the scriptures are clear. At this juncture, however, it’s almost as if she has forgotten her son’s divine paternity. Joseph was not his father, and his father had not been looking for him for he was at that moment in his father’s house. Nevertheless, recognizing Joseph’s and his mother’s guardianship of him, Jesus left with them for Nazareth.
According to Talmadge, Mary appears to have never really understood her son and states, “He was hers, and yet in a very real sense not wholly hers.” I’ve read that sentence over and over again with this thought: That’s the same with all children. They’re ours but not really wholly ours. They all have their spark of divinity, and we as mothers are responsible for giving them birth and guiding and loving them.
I think all mothers have experienced moments when we’ve asked ourselves questions such as, “Where did this child come from?” “Where did she or he get this particular talent or propensity?” "Why can't I make him do what I want him to (we know best, right?)" I think these moments become increasingly frequent as our children advance into the teen years. By the time they’re young adults, sometimes they seem like strangers to us. Where did the swaddled infant go? How did this child get to be so savvy, knowledgeable, opinionated, aloof, or whatever the adjective might be?
It sort of reminds me of the passage from Kahlil Gibran’s “On Children.” I’m not comparing us to Mary. I’m saying that our children are not truly ours. They belong to God. They have their own hearts and minds, and they’re on loan to us for a while.
On Children
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Tamar and Others
Yesterday, my sister-in-law Lisa and my niece Sarah Beth met for some Sunday afternoon refreshment and conversation. I asked them what they'd learned in church that morning that would help them throughout the week. Lisa began telling me about certain prayers in which the people (like Hannah, for instance) who had been recipients of God's beneficence spoke prayers of praise rather than of thanksgiving. She wasn't saying whether it was good or bad but was simply reporting something that had been discussed in church. After a moment, Sarah Beth spoke up and confessed that she thought it was boring. I love her honesty and youthful spirit!
When I was 20, I probably felt the same way SB does. The people in the Bible were like characters in a novel, not really real. And truthfully, they weren't really that interesting either. As I've gotten older, I've looked beneath the surface at these people and can see their multi-dimensional essences. These were real people who lived and died and often did a lot of suffering in-between. I'm not inclined to go into a lot of detail tonight, but let's just consider a couple...or a few.
*Think about Sarai, later Sarah, who gave birth late in life after following Abraham hither, thither, and yon. A couple of times, she even went to live in a palace as part of a harem so that they'd be safe. And I wonder how she felt when Abraham took her only son Isaac away as a sacrifice?
*Think about Jezebel who got ravaged by dogs. A lot of good her makeup and hairdo did her that day!
*Then there's Leah, always second in Jacob's affections although she was his first wife.
*And oh my, look at Lot's daughters who "trick" their father into having relations wit them so that they can have children.
*I even told Sarah Beth a little bit about Judah's sexual encounter with his daughter-in-law Tamar that resulted in the birth of twins. Judah didn't know that his partner was Tamar because she was disguised as a harlot.
So Sarah Beth and anyone else who might think the Bible is boring, take a look inside and you might be surprised.
When I was 20, I probably felt the same way SB does. The people in the Bible were like characters in a novel, not really real. And truthfully, they weren't really that interesting either. As I've gotten older, I've looked beneath the surface at these people and can see their multi-dimensional essences. These were real people who lived and died and often did a lot of suffering in-between. I'm not inclined to go into a lot of detail tonight, but let's just consider a couple...or a few.
*Think about Sarai, later Sarah, who gave birth late in life after following Abraham hither, thither, and yon. A couple of times, she even went to live in a palace as part of a harem so that they'd be safe. And I wonder how she felt when Abraham took her only son Isaac away as a sacrifice?
*Think about Jezebel who got ravaged by dogs. A lot of good her makeup and hairdo did her that day!
*Then there's Leah, always second in Jacob's affections although she was his first wife.
*And oh my, look at Lot's daughters who "trick" their father into having relations wit them so that they can have children.
*I even told Sarah Beth a little bit about Judah's sexual encounter with his daughter-in-law Tamar that resulted in the birth of twins. Judah didn't know that his partner was Tamar because she was disguised as a harlot.
So Sarah Beth and anyone else who might think the Bible is boring, take a look inside and you might be surprised.
Mary's Strength
Can't believe it's been over a month since I've posted anything on this blog. Actually, I began to get a little discouraged because no one except for Connie and Putz ever responded. Connie, devoted friend that she is, gently told me that it might be because the posts were hard to understand and that people didn't know what to say. She's probably right. I think I might have "overthought" them. So tonight, I'm going to post something relatively short and simple about Mary, the mother of Jesus.
After re-reading the Christmas story several times during the recent holidays, I found myself thinking of how lonely she must have been. There's no record of her talking to her parents, a friend, or Joseph (until later). She and Gabriel talked briefly, and then he too disappeared. Since he had told her about her cousin Elisabeth, Mary traveled to see her, and as we know, Elisabeth's baby John moved within her, and she knew that Mary was carrying the Savior. Still, the information is scanty. Did the two women talk? Was she afraid? Excited?
After John the Baptist was born, Mary returned to her home and had to "face the music." Joseph loved her and wanted to do the right thing, and yet....When the angel appeared to him in a dream, he knew he had been right in beleiving that his betrothed was a woman of honor. Still, the two of them had no one to talk to except each other, and although they'd both had heavenly visitations, it must have still been a bit awkward at times.
She was so young, so courageous, so full of faith. I think of the scores of women I've known of all ages, shapes, sizes, and backgrounds who've been "with child," and I can't recall even one of them who didn't share aspects of her pregnancy with others. Sometimes it was a particular discomfort or perhaps a fear, but the fact is that there was someone to talk to. Mary had no one...and wow, what a sacred secret she carried.
After re-reading the Christmas story several times during the recent holidays, I found myself thinking of how lonely she must have been. There's no record of her talking to her parents, a friend, or Joseph (until later). She and Gabriel talked briefly, and then he too disappeared. Since he had told her about her cousin Elisabeth, Mary traveled to see her, and as we know, Elisabeth's baby John moved within her, and she knew that Mary was carrying the Savior. Still, the information is scanty. Did the two women talk? Was she afraid? Excited?
After John the Baptist was born, Mary returned to her home and had to "face the music." Joseph loved her and wanted to do the right thing, and yet....When the angel appeared to him in a dream, he knew he had been right in beleiving that his betrothed was a woman of honor. Still, the two of them had no one to talk to except each other, and although they'd both had heavenly visitations, it must have still been a bit awkward at times.
She was so young, so courageous, so full of faith. I think of the scores of women I've known of all ages, shapes, sizes, and backgrounds who've been "with child," and I can't recall even one of them who didn't share aspects of her pregnancy with others. Sometimes it was a particular discomfort or perhaps a fear, but the fact is that there was someone to talk to. Mary had no one...and wow, what a sacred secret she carried.
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