Serving Apple Pancakes

This post isn’t about one of the women in the Bible but rather a talk I heard a woman give in church Sunday. One of the things I enjoy about listening to people speak in church is that they often add another twist to a familiar story or scripture that I hadn’t considered before. This past Sunday one of my daughters and I had the good fortune to attend Sacrament meeting in an Atlanta, GA ward, and every speaker gave me food for thought, especially a simple comment by the last speaker. And the goodies in the picture above? You'll have to read the post to see how they relate.

We’re all familiar with the verse in Joshua in which he tells the Israelites that for him and his house, “We will serve the Lord.” He has admonished them to choose “this day” whom they will serve, not tomorrow or next week but THIS DAY. I’ve read and heard this verse about a hundred times or more. Really, I have. I’ve seen it cross stitched and placed on display. I’ve seen plaques and framed art with Joshua’s words hung on walls or sitting on small easels, words to remind “believers” of their choice.

Here’s my confession. I’ve always focused on the choosing part and not so much on the serving part. It’s a fact that tomorrow’s blessings, both temporal and spiritual, depend on the choices we make today. While the verbs seem to go together, I’ve been guilty of choosing more than serving; it’s easier and really requires no effort on my part. However, it makes perfect sense that if you choose Him, you would want to serve Him.

Since Sunday, I’ve been thinking more about the last section of Joshua 24:15 “…but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” More specifically, I’ve been thinking about what serving actually means and what I could be doing. It doesn’t mean I have to serve a full-time mission or do volunteer work at the local hospital…although those are certainly worthy means of providing service. In my little corner of the world, I could feed the missionaries more often, treat a friend to lunch, send someone a note or card, watch a young mother’s child so that she could have a little free time, take a neighbor some cookies, advise a student on career choice, lend someone a book, and so forth. The list of little ways to follow Joshua’s instruction are numerous and varied.

I absolutely have to share a recent example of serving that I witnessed yesterday. It’s about my friend Connie who just came back from a mountain getaway with her husband. She took lots of beautiful pictures and posted them all on the internet for other people to enjoy. Then she started a little contest, and the winner is going to get a basket of goodies that Connie purchased while on her trip. I see that as serving. She could have kept everything (memories, pictures, and treats) all to herself. But she didn’t. She knows choosing means loving and sharing and serving, and that’s what she’s doing. Check out her blog at http://fogle143.blogspot.com/
and throw your name in the hat. (I couldn't get this link to work, but you can use the one to Loose Lemons in the sidebar).

I’m curious about the thoughts of any readers that might be reading this. Have you, like yours truly, focused more on the choosing than the serving part? Can you think of some little acts of service you’ve seen around you lately?

Perceived Righteousness

Watching Annual Conference was an interesting experience yesterday, quite challenging too. We don’t have the BYU channel here at the beach, but “no problem,” I thought. I had my trusty pink Dell laptop and was confident that we could all watch it online. And actually, I was right; we could watch it, but we really couldn’t hear it very well. Despite our efforts to change it, the volume stayed low. Plus, there was the constant background noise of four active little children, one of whom is still a demanding infant. Adorable beyond description, Colton just couldn’t understand why all the grown-ups had rather look at a computer screen than at him.

That said, I did get a few nuggets to ponder from yesterday’s experience. I was reminded of the importance of loving and serving one another. Despite a person’s skin color, country of origin, or bank account, he or she is still a child of a loving Heavenly Father. According to Elder Uchtdorf, sometimes people hold themselves in high esteem because of wealth, prestige, or perceived righteousness. I loved that he said that. Why?? Because it’s so true. For some reason, the wealth and prestige part doesn’t bother me nearly as much as the perceived righteousness.

The “holier than thou” aspect really bugs me. I’ve heard a woman hiss hatefully at her husband when he asked her a question during Sunday school, a woman who purports to be the perfect wife and mother. I’ve heard innumerable (yes, that many) accounts of people judging others (Did you see than short dress???) from people who darken the church doorways whenever they’re open. I’ve been in homes too cluttered and dirty to feel the spirit and been judged by its owners for drinking caffeine. When I was a younger mother, I was hurt many times by “well meaning Christians” who took it upon themselves to remind me that my place was in the home with my children, not in the workplace. I know people who wouldn’t watch a television program on Sunday who are so “righteous” that being around them is scary. Really.

I’m a roll this morning and could go on and on. But then, I’d be guilty of doing the very thing I’m preaching against: being judgmental and hypocritical. I’ll quit while I’m ahead. I hope we can embrace all of God’s children and remember that love is the word.

Sparrows and Me

Going on a road trip with girlfriends can be a wonderful experience. Don’t get me wrong. I love traveling with my husband too; it’s just that he’s not as into laughing, talking, and taking side trips. Sure, I’ve told him that it’s the journey and not the destination that counts, but he’s a guy, one who’s all about getting there. I say that with love.

So this past weekend I went to Atlanta with some work chums, and we chatted all the way there and all the way back and all times in-between. Before the weekend ended, we had pretty much solved the education and healthcare issues in America (Why don’t the powers-that-be ask us for our opinions?), expressed much consternation over the appalling lack of civility in the United States (witness Joe Wilson’s latest outburst), and shared thoughts and memories about our families.

This morning as I sit waiting for my class to complete a test on D2L, I can imagine Lisa’s grandmother telling her to wash her hair until it squeaked. I used to hear the same thing as a child. I can see Nancy’s father standing on the front porch demanding that she come in the house instead of sitting in the driveway with her sweetie. Martha says her hair is like her mother’s…as are some of her gestures. And yours truly? All this family talk dredged up lots of memories from my past. I used to go to Forest City, NC with my paternal grandparents on a frequent basis, and I can still recall sitting in the back seat of their celery green Chevy and we wound around curvy two-lane roads.

All of the family talk must have still been on my mind Sunday morning. As I sat in Sacrament meeting, the thought occurred to me that only one person in the entire meeting even knew my parents. Only Mrs. C. knew what great people they were, she with her classiness and he with his lovable eccentricities. Saddened, I couldn’t let that thought go. How could it be that people who were so instrumental and influential in my life just pass on, unknown or perhaps forgotten?

After Sacrament, I left the room for a few minutes and was chatting in the hall when Lowrance approached. “I’ve got something I want you to see,” she said. She handed me a small black and white photograph of four young women, all smiling flirtatiously at the camera. From their attire and hairstyles, I could see that it was “vintage,” and Lowrance said that the picture was snapped sometime in the 1940s. “Do you recognize anyone?” she asked. Right away, I saw my aunt Polly smiling up from the foursome, black wavy hair framing her beautiful young face. Turning to Lowrance, I asked, “Did you know my aunt? What about my parents?” It turns out that she did know them, although not that well since my parents and aunt were older than she. Still, she did know them. She had seen them often, and they live in her memory just as they do in mine.

So what’s the point of this rambling post? As I was telling my son Paul about this story yesterday, I had a flash of insight. We’re all familiar with the scripture of God having His eye upon the sparrow, right? And we know that He’s aware of each of us, and that while He might not speak to us in a big booming voice, He is mindful of our needs. It’s often through another person that He makes us aware of His presence in our lives.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this incident, but you’ll never convince me of that. I have a great heritage, and I miss my parents and grandparents…sometimes more than others. Sunday was one of those days, and Lowrance was inspired (I think) to show me a little picture, a picture that brought solace to my soul. My heart too.

Angels Among Us

I love Relief Society. That’s no secret to anyone who knows me. This worldwide women’s group just celebrated its 167th anniversary, and in our ward we had a wonderful program and meal to commemorate its founding. The beautiful statues of angels on every table and the delicious angel hair pasta accented the evening’s theme of “Angels Among Us.”

After savoring our dessert of angel food cake (what else could it have been???), one of the leaders read parts of Jeffrey R. Holland’s recent conference address entitled “The Ministry of Angels.” Here’s one of my favorite parts: “Some of them we walk with and talk with--here, now, every day. Some of them reside in our own neighborhoods. Some of them gave birth to us, and in my case, one of them consented to marry me. Indeed heaven never seems closer than when we see the love of God manifested in the kindness and devotion of people so good and so pure that angelic is the only word that comes to mind.”

Several sisters then spoke of times in their lives when angels had come along to offer support and love, often in the form of time, lunch, candy, or a listening ear. The size of the gift wasn’t as important as the offering itself. All of the stories were great and served as reminders that we can all do a little more to reach out to our sister angels…and to any and everyone who needs our help.

I must share just one story told that night. Everyone goes though trials, but it seems that many of the trials women face revolve around our families. This story involved the grandmother of toddler twin girls whose mother served in Afghanistan for 15 months. The grandmother lovingly cared for these infant babies while their mother (her daughter) served her country. It was a family affair, and the father and sons also got into the act. In doing so, they all grew to greatly love these tiny girls. As the time approached for the twins’ mother to return, the family began to reflect on this and to realize how big a part of their lives these babies had become.

During these “winding up” days, an “angel” called the grandmother and invited her to have lunch with her and two of her daughters-in-law. They took the grandmother to a nice restaurant, and one of the daughters-in-law presented a poem that she had written for her. The lunch and poem buoyed the grandmother’s spirits as the day of leave-taking approached. Alas, the day arrived, and the babies left with their mother. The grandmother was “okay” for a couple of days, and then the emptiness and quietness of the house hit her. She still feels sad sometimes, but according to her, when she reflects on the nice lunch and rereads the poem, she feels encouraged just knowing that she has angels to bolster her.

Next, we listened to a song about angels being among us as we watched a slideshow of the sisters in our ward. All of us were there (at least all who had been at church the prior Sunday to have her picture snapped by a clever RS counselor), and it was both fun and inspiring to listen to the words of the song while watching the faces of my sisters flashed upon the screen. As I looked at them, I could readily remember something that every single one had done or said to uplift me or lighten my load. Finally, we all filled out sheets with information about ourselves: what makes us smile, five random things about us, our favorite color, what makes us happiest, something we hope to accomplish this year, and so forth. The sheets were taken up and then distributed to other people there who are supposed to act in angelic ways towards the person whose sheet they have. I have someone who’s favorite color is blue. I’d say more, but I want my identity to stay secret.

You don’t have to be a member of the Relief Society of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints to act like an angel to someone…or to have someone show love, compassion, and kindness to you. Do you have a story to share? Or perhaps an intention that you plan to carry out? Please share something. Then I’ll tell another story, this one about a three-generation thing.

Jochabed, Hannah, and Laresa

How must the mothers of Helaman's stripling young warriors have felt when their sons went off to battle? How about Jochabed when she put Moses in a basket in the Nile or Hannah when she took Samuel to Eli? Throughout the scriptures there are stories of mothers who basically turned their sons over to God to use for His purposes, and today I'm thinking of a modern day mother, Laresa, who said good bye to her son this morning. She joins mothers all over the world whose sons and daughters will be reporting to the MTCs in their areas this week to prepare for two-year missions.

Yesterday afternoon I attended a reception for Laresa's son Zachary, and as I watched his parents, especially his mother, I couldn't help but remember the way I felt five years ago when my son left on his mission. All of us were upbeat and happy at his farewell, and there was much laughter, conversation, and great food. Still, not even the sweet, rich, chocolately taste of the brownies could completely distract me from the angst I felt. I knew what was ahead of me (us), and I remember making a supreme effort to be peppy.

Here's my experience that I lifted right from Musings of a Missionary Mom. I hope it helps Laresa and Boyd a little. "Filled with emotions ranging from excitement and anxiety to deep sadness, I remember laughing at the crazy good bye handshakes that he shared with his buddies. Then there was the moment when I took him aside for one last “mom talk” before he left for Utah. Although I thought I was doing fine, a photograph taken by my daughter Elizabeth shows otherwise. What a crumpled up, tear- streaked face. Then came the moment when he walked through the turnstile and had to remove his shoes for security purposes. He smiled as if it say, “Yeah, well, what’s a body to do?”

I gulped. He was gone. Or no, there he was walking up the steps, grinning down at us through the palm trees. His father, more knowledgeable than I about the workings of the Myrtle Beach Airport, walked down a short nearby hallway for one last glance as Elder Crolley hustled toward the plane, turning to wave one last time.
Still reluctant to say good bye, we walked outside and waited for the plane to actually fly westward. There we stood on a small embankment, waving adios.

It was so hard to see him leave, despite the fact that I knew he was doing the Lord’s work and that my son would be in his Heavenly Father’s care. I also knew that EC would be back in SC in two years, and that he’d have left the Torreon Mission a better place. Still, with the hole in my heart and the ache in my chest, I missed him. I missed him and marveled at the love our Heavenly Father had for us, so much love that he sent his only begotten son to die for us."

Elder Campbell will be back in SC in two years, but the influence on the people of Arizona will go on and on. Just like the mothers we read about in the scriptures, Laresa has basically turned her son over to God in faith.