Following Brooke

I doubt if anyone who attended Fast and Testimony Meeting in our ward Sunday came away unmoved. If so, I have to think that he or she has a cold, cold heart or serious struggles with “the adversary.” One of the things I love so much about these meetings is that I get to learn what’s in the hearts of others…how they really feel about life, their families, and of course the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some people express gratitude, and others share struggles and concerns.

Time prohibits a full account of all of the testimonies I heard, so I’ll just share a couple that are on my mind today. Let’s start with yours truly. I had actually forgotten that it was F & T Sunday until I arrived, and as soon as I was reminded of it, I thought something like, “Oh great. I love to hear what my fellow church members have to say.” Almost instantly, I recalled something I’d read in one of Henry B. Eyring’s books about listening to others, something about how God will speak to you when and if you earnestly listen to the words of others when they are speaking about Him and/or spiritual matters. It occurred to me that it’s not fair to always be on the listening side and that I needed to share my testimony with my ward family.

Anxiety kept me in my seat for about two minutes until I remembered my sweet little granddaughter Brooke. Though only 5, she often bravely walks up on the stand and tells the congregation how much she loves Jesus…and her family. What a great role model! I shared several thoughts with the congregation Sunday, but the primary one was that regardless of what kind of suffering, pain, loss, heartache, disappointment, or despair, there is only one source of solace. I don’t know the reason for so much pain and evil in the world; I only know that without some sort of faith in a Supreme Being, you’re in for a much rougher road.

*Kitty talked about the power of prayer and how she’d felt its power so many times in her life.
*Mari, a lovely young woman, began her testimony in a way that reflected my feelings to a tee. She said she had felt compelled to come to the front, and yet when she got there and saw all of the people staring at her, she thought something like, “Am I really up here? How did I get here????” Anyway, one of the many things she said that found me nodding in agreement is she knew every person there was anxious for her success and happiness, and that although she didn’t know everyone, she knew that every single person would stand behind her…and would help her if necessary. She’s right, you know. I’ve felt that unity many times.
*Then there was Willette whose words made me chuckle a little. She shared that when her son was on his mission, she and her husband Larry vowed to bring as much harmony and peace into their lives as possible. They decided to begin singing a Primary song, I’m Trying to be Like Jesus, every time either of them raised their voice, began gossiping, acting uncharitable, etc. She said she bet they sang that hymn a million times!
*Izzy spoke of her love for the gospel and her deep gratefulness of how it had come into her life.
*Joann told of some of her challenges in life and of how thoughts of Joseph Smith and his unflinching courage had often strengthened her. She shared a specific example of how painful a “tar and feather” incident had been, especially when his wife Emma unavoidably removed pieces of his flesh when peeling off the tar.

We closed the last meeting, Relief Society, with Love One Another, and I left the building buoyed up by the music, words, hugs, smiles, talks, lessons, and prayers of the morning. It’s only Tuesday, and I’ve been annoyed and irritated plenty of times since then. But you know what? I think of Willette and Larry singing and find myself humming the tune to their song.

More Mary, Less Martha

Sometimes all people want is to be heard. A couple of weeks ago, my father-in-law passed away, and as several of us were standing outside of his room, an elderly gentleman walked up and said something like, “I know what you’re going through.” He and I looked at each other eyeball to eyeball, and when he knew that I was listening, he told me that his wife of many decades that died three months earlier, somewhat unexpectedly. I could have said, “Can’t you see that we’re sort of tied up with our own sorrow right now?” but I didn’t. Along with a couple of other people, I just stood there and listened.

I’ve often pondered over the brevity of Mary and Martha story in Luke. Although short, it contains many lessons, primarily the one about keeping our eyes, ears, hearts, and minds centered on the words of Christ. That short passage in Luke has prompted many discussions among my female friends as we struggle to balance the demands of our families and homes with the need to search, ponder, and pray.

This past week I learned yet another way to interpret the Mary/Martha story. When Christ tells Martha that Mary is about the “better part,” I think that he’s referring to her state of attentive mindfulness in general. Not only is he telling the sisters that listening to His words is important, but He’s also implying that we need to adopt that attitude when with our loved ones…and anyone else who’s in need of a listener.

Within our homes, there is often space and separation when there could be connectedness and communication. We talk and listen, but we do it with our heads and not our hearts. We discuss bills, dinner plans, the weather, and the latest movies, but we avoid feelings and dreams. We’re always flitting about hither, thither, and yon when perhaps our time would be better spent just listening, being fully present. Without being judgmental, impatient, or “cumbered about,” we need to sit quietly in the presence of these people in our lives.

Doesn’t Christ say that when you’ve done it unto the least of one of these, that we’ve done it unto Him? So while reading scriptures and praying is important, so is paying mindful attention to others. This week, I’ve been trying to follow Christ’s gentle instruction to Martha, and it’s SO HARD. I find myself wanting to rush in and finish sentences, go for a walk, or give advice. Part of my struggle is because of life in the 21st century with all of its craziness. Excuses aside, I’ve been instructed by the Master himself, so I’m earnestly going to try harder to be more patient and thoughtful.

Sometimes all people want is to be heard.

When You Stand With Me

Last night's introduction/orientation to Celestial University was awesome. I realize that awesome is probably an overworked word these days, but honestly, it fits here. I'm sitting here this morning wondering what to major in and whether I should pursue the terminal degree or stop after the BA. I'm also remembering Sophia's beautiful and seemingly effortless yoga demonstration. Loved the fruit too...and the numerous conversations with the women there, some zany and some serious and some artsy. Rather than create something new about Relief Society this morning, I decided to go to Musings of a Missionary Mom and find a entry that I could copy and paste.

Before pasting the entry, I also want to mention the first couple of lines from a hymn we're learning in our stake: "I may be one, but one becomes two when you stand with me and I stand with you." When put with the melody, those words and the others in the song are absolutely soul stirring. While I think of all of the women in this worldwide organization when hearing this song, I also think of my precious daughters and daughter-in-law. The picture above is of Carrie and Amanda modeling their aprons at Christmas.

Okay, here goes: "I love Relief society. That's no secret to anyone who knows me, church member or not. The first time I attended was one Sunday morning three decades ago when the teacher was teaching a cultural Refinement lesson on Sri Lanka. "Huh? What is this?" I wondered. It seemed too good to be true...just like school but no tests. Plus, I loved the variety of women in the room, old and young, short and tall, rich and poor, single and married. We had one thing in common: we were all daughters of a Heavenly Father who loved us, and among our many roles in life were those to love, support, and encourage one another.

That was many years ago, and the curriculum has changed to more accurately reflect the church's growing and increasingly diverse membership. We don't have Cultural Refinement lessons anymore,and yet we always learn something useful, edifying, or inspirational in our meetings. The topics vary from stress management and keeping an orderly home to the necessity of prayer and the importance of scripture study. I've never come away without learning something that would improve the quality not only of my own life but those of my family, friends, and acquaintances.

As an example, in my develometnalal psychology classes, a frequently occuring topic is discipline. While it's helpful to know that assertive discipline is effective and that a parent should be consistent, fair, and immediate in administering consequences, the advice of Brigham Young that I picked up in a Sunday meething has proven most helpful to me: "Bring up your children in the love and fear of the Lord; study their dispositons and their temperaments, and deal with them accordingly, never allowing yourself to correct them in the heat of yor passion; teach them to love you rather than to fear you."'

For those of you who were in attendance last night, you might be interested in knowing that I've already begun working on the theology requirement for the degree. Still haven't decided on my major yet. Is there an academic advisor out there??

Parental Law vs. God's Law

I visited church in Myrtle Beach this past Sunday, and after hearing two wonderful talks by youth speakers, I heard a thought provoking and inspiring one by one of the church leaders. His remarks centered around the importance of obeying the commandments IF we want to receive the associated blessings.

Greg spoke of some the similarities and differences between parental love and God’s love, and as I listened, I thought of how children will often wail, “That’s not fair!” when they perceive that they’re being treated unjustly or that a sibling is receiving a privilege that they aren’t. Too, sometimes they want things (privileges, treats, allowance) even if they don’t deserve them. Adults are often the same way. We want raises, promotions, special projects, compliments, and so forth, but often we aren’t willing to pay the price to get them.

Back to the children, sometimes parents give in and give them what they want. Sometimes they just want the children to be quiet and stop whining, and other times they “feel sorry” for the precious little angels. But is that really right? Brother Stalvey gave the example of how an adult child in a cohabitating relationship might complain that his parents don't treat him the same as their married children. They look at eternal laws and feel that what they want to do is more important. Greg wasn’t making any pronouncements about how parents should handle their children; he was, however, pretty adamant about consequences of disobedience to God’s laws.

We as adults can weep and wail and gnash our teeth, but we need to understand that God’s laws are fair, just, and contingent upon following the commandments. We cannot steal, kill, commit adultery, live in cohabitating relationships, or abuse our children and expect God to turn the other cheek. While He loves us just like we love our children, He practices a tough love. But wow, look at the stupendous blessings if we only do what He asks.

Brother Stalvey also mentioned the woman at the well story, one of my favorites. Christ spoke with her despite the fact that she was a woman, a Samaritan one at that. Her gender made no difference to Him. Unless I'm mistaken, she was the first person whom Christ actually informed of His true identify. At the same time, He also let her know that He knew her past (five husbands) and present (living with a man). What I read into this scenario is that even though He loved her, He wasn't going to just "let her off the hook."

It's the same for us. While God loves us unconditionally, it's understood that we can't have several partners (today's term of choice) and expect him not to know and to someday "call us on it." We can't expect "the law" to save us when we have ignored eternal commandments. It's all about choices and consequences. While we're free to choose the former, we're not free to choose the latter.

I surely don't mean for my posts to come across as preachy, pious pontifications (how's that for alliteration?). During Sunday's talk, I had one of those "aha" experiences, and this morning I'm merely trying to convey it to you.

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Scared Heart?

I’ve been listening to Sue Monk Kidd’s The Mermaid Chair on CD, and one of the few things that I like about this book is one of Jessie’s memory of a conversation she once had with her daughter. As a child, her daughter Dee thought the church Mary of the Sacred Heart was really Mary of the Scared Heart. Jessie, the mom, is remembering that conversation years later and thinking about whether Mary was scared or not. After all, she thinks, “scared heart” might just as much sense as “sacred heart.”

Amanda’s having a baby. She’s my daughter-in-law, and I’m super excited about this baby. I don’t even know this little one yet, the tiny fetus that we’re referring to as Baby C, and yet I’m already thinking about him or her. Amanda saw the little one actively swimming about during her sonogram Monday, and she excitedly told me about how he or she was moving its little “nubs,” future arms and legs. Is it a boy or a girl? Will the baby be tall, short, blue-eyed, curly-haired, athletic, scientific, musically inclined, a great dancer???

While I’m excited, I can’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety from time to time. Will Amanda’s pregnancy and labor be smooth and uneventful? Will Baby C have all ten fingers and toes? While I know that it's coming to a home with parents “kind and dear,” will they know how to handle a colicky baby? One of my students missed a test today because her baby is in the hospital with a fever of 104. What if that happens to Paul and Amanda’s baby?

All of this (and more) has got me thinking more about Mary. Was she scared? She surely had reason to be. She was a child by some standards, probably no older than 16. Plus, as far as I can determine, it’s not as though she had the love and support of her parents. Elisabeth seems to be the only person she felt comfortable enough to confide in, at least at first. Eventually she had to face Joseph, her betrothed. Do you think she was scared to tell him? I do. She had had a visit from Gabriel, but so far Joseph had not. Here she is an unmarried teenager without support or encouragement, and she’s having a baby. Don’t you know the town gossipers had a heyday with that? There weren’t hospitals around either. The longer I think about this, the more I realize that indeed she may have been petrified. Yes, the angel had said, “Be not afraid,” but still….

Here's the scariest part (to me): Mary was carrying the literal Son of God, the Savior of the world. Can you even imagine such a feeling? I can’t. Amanda is carrying a child of God, and while I know there may be times when she too might feel a little fearful or anxious, she has the love and support of family and friends. She also lives in a time and place where there’s the best medical care possible. Oh, and of course there’s the fact that she’ married to Paul, a man who will surely magnify his role as a father.

Jochabed & Missionary Moms

The Camden Ward now has at least three young men serving missions, two of whom are still in the MTC (Missionary Training Center). I KNOW how their mothers feel, for I too have felt that hole in my heart. It’s especially huge and gaping right after the missionary’s departure, but truly, it does heal somewhat as the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months. There are the weekly emails, the encouraging words from friends and family, and the knowledge that your child is willing to sacrifice two years of his young life to “go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded.”

Thinking of these three young men (Zachary, Campbell, and Tony) and their mothers reminded me of several things I wrote while my son Paul was serving his mission in Mexico. With these M.O.M.s (Mothers in Missionaries) in mind, I’ve decided to copy and paste this excerpt from my book.

Exodus 2: 3-5
“And when she could not longer hide him, she took for him an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and with pitch, and put the child therein; and she laid it in the flags by the river’s brink. And his sister stood afar off to wit what would be done with him.”

Imagine Jochabed’s anxiety as she placed her infant son in a basket and placed him in the Nile. Knowing that her son Moses was meant to be murdered left her no recourse but to trust in God’s protection and care, and yet she couldn’t (or didn’t) watch as he drifted away among crocodiles with his sister Miriam watching. How hard it must have been to leave her son adrift in the river! God kept Moses safe in his basket until he was discovered and adopted by Pharaoh’s daughter, an act that would allow him to receive an education and upbringing that would make him more effective as a prophet and leader of a nation.

While mothers aren’t customarily required to send their sons away down the Nile to save their lives, at some time children drift down the rivers of life to live among crocodiles, sharks, and other dangerous creatures. As I pondered this scripture, I remembered Brother Reynolds’ words in a Sacrament meeting as he told of his prayer when his son left on his mission: “God, I’m giving you the best thing I have: my son. Please comfort him, lead him, protect him, and bring him back home safely to us.” Not only will our Heavenly Father protect our missionaries, but He will also allow them to get the sort of education that will prove invaluable in their future lives. The virtues of faith, responsibility, and service will forever be a part of their character.

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.