Museum Moment

Jeanita is one of my oldest and dearest friends, the kind you might not see for months and yet when you meet again, you can pick up exactly where you left off. Lately we’ve been trying to come up with a free weekend that we could get together with another couple of friends, and it seems impossible to come up with a date that will work for all the people involved. I’m not talking about a week or even an entire weekend. We’ve given up on that idea. Now we’re just trying to find a free spot for dinner! Incidentally, we live about 140 miles apart so it’s not as if she’s right around the corner. And then when you add more people into the mix, then a meeting really gets complicated!

At some point during last night’s conversation, Jeanita said something I’ve heard her say many times. It’s a thought I’ve heard expressed by many women.

“I thought things were supposed to get easier as we got older,” she said. “It seems like they’re getting more and more complicated.”

“You’re right,” I agreed. “I’m busy all the time, and I often wonder how I managed to get anything done when I was a younger mother.”

As I’ve mentioned before, the key is balance. Jeanita and I like to have fun and have taken some trips to NYC together. On one of them, we left Judy, Joan Ella, and Patty at the hotel so that we could visit the MoMA, Museum of Modern Art, where there was a Van Gogh exhibit. I was having a conniption fit to see The Starry Night, and despite the fact that we’d miss having dinner with the rest of our party before the theatre, Jeanita was up for the experience.

We rode in a bicycle drawn rickshaw to get there, and even though we only had thirty minutes to savor the exhibit once we arrived, it was well worth the time and the money. On the way, we laughed and chatted and absorbed the energy of the city. Then when we got into the museum and on the floor of the exhibit, I said something like, “Let’s just walk in calmly and amble along until we see it.” She grinned, nodding in agreement.

And that’s what we did. After looking at paintings of wheat fields and potato eaters, we rounded a corner and there it was, The Starry Night. Awed by the painting’s intense colors, swirling celestial orbs, and the cypress tree reaching toward heaven, neither of us spoke for a few moments. Standing there, we talked about the tiny town nestled beneath the sky and how the church steeple reached heavenward, just like the tree. In the sky, there was action and energy and light; below there was quiet and darkness. We talked about how puffed up and important we humans think we are, and yet when compared to the cosmos, we’re “small potatoes.”

I’d have to say that viewing the painting was pretty close to a spiritual experience. While studying scriptures, praying, meditating, attending church, reading inspirational books and magazines are all beneficial for our spiritual growth, so is visiting an art museum and appreciating the work of the great painters. So are visiting a beach, a mountain, or your own backyard. Mother Nature can be a good nurturer, and often a walk around my neighborhood turns into a moving meditation.

Jeanita and saw the rest of the exhibit and then circled back for one last look at Starry Night. I bought a poster of it in the museum gift shop, and whenever I look at it, I remember that day in Manhattan when I was both Mary and Martha. Balance is the key.

Fight in TJ Maxx

I keep reliving a scene I witnessed a few weeks ago. I was in one of my favorite retail establishments in Myrtle Beach when I heard a loud, angry voice. It was coming from a man standing in the aisle who was evidently upset with the way the young woman he was with had disciplined a child. He used the f-word a couple of times and then added the b-word to it. By this time, the small child was crying, and the woman was talking back. Actually, they seemed pretty evenly matched as far as their yelling obscenities skills were concerned. Neither seemed aware of the sobbing child, and as they walked away towards the door, both were still hurling insults and threats


Everyone around me stopped to gawk. It’s not that we wanted to. We just didn’t know what to do or if we should do anything. A woman looking at the same merchandise that I was said, “Look at my arms! There are goose bumps everywhere!” Seriously, you could have heard a pin drop.

One of my daughters was with me but had opted to stay in car. When I rejoined her, she said, “Mama, you wouldn’t believe what I just saw.” She proceeded to tell me about the fighting couple and what had happened in the parking lot. The young woman had physically attacked him and walked off with the child, and the man had stomped off in a different direction.

Where is this young woman today? Is she raising the child alone? Was the verbally abusive young man the father of the child? Are they married? Are they still together? If so, is it because she has no recourse at the moment, or is it because she genuinely loves the guy? Did my little window of into their lives reveal a rare moment of anger, or was that typical of their lives? Why didn’t either of them notice the sobbing child?

What I think is that women who are abused, neglected, hurt, cast aside, downtrodden, abandoned, or depressed have a God who loves them. I also think that sometimes emotional and psychological pain can be so horrific and overwhelming that a person can’t think straight, much less feel His spirit. All she can do is feel distress and despair, and unless someone helps her, her life could continue a downward spiral.

Several women in the Bible suffered rejection, sadness, betrayal, and heartache. For starters, there’s Hagar who, at Sarah’s request, was banished by Abraham to the desert with her son Ishmael. It’s not as though they were sent on a trip. They were sent there to die! Sure, Abraham sent them away with bread and a bottle of water, but how long was that supposed to last? Fortunately for Hagar, God saved their lives and promised to make Ishmael “a great nation.” (Genesis 21:18)

And there’s Tamar, the beautiful daughter of David who was raped by her half-brother Amnon. Using the ruse of illness, he requested that she bring food to his room, and although she begged him not to, he raped his half-sister. After the rape, Amnon “hated her exceedingly” and told her to “Arise, be gone.” (2 Samuel 13:15) Tamar is devastated by this act, and although her father David is angry about it, he apparently does nothing. Her brother Absalom takes her into his home, and two years later, he arranges for Amnon’s death (2 Samuel 13:28). I’ve often wondered whether Amnon’s murder affected Tamar’s well-being.

Fast forward to the New Testament, specifically the 8th chapter of John in which scribes and Pharisees bring Christ a woman caught in the act of adultery. As an aside, I’ve often wondered who and where her partner was. Her accusers remind Christ that according to Mosaic law, she should be stoned. He ponders for a moment, writes something in the sand, and then instructs whoever is without sin to cast the first stone. Just He and the accused woman are left, and He says, “Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.”

What all three of these instances share with that of the young woman in TJ Maxx is that they each portray a woman who is downtrodden, betrayed, shunned, ridiculed, or hurt. While I don’t profess to know how it works, I know that His love is available to all women. Neither condemning nor chastising, He is there.

Six Little Words

As a woman, have you ever felt that you couldn’t or didn’t do enough for other people? We’re expected to keep our homes neat and tidy, look as good as we can with what we have, bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan, raise responsible children, perform charitable works, arrange flowers, plant gardens, can and freeze garden bounty, develop our talents, support our husbands, work on our inner vessels, and smile. The latter is especially important because, as I mentioned during my lesson in Relief Society yesterday, women set the emotional tone for a home.


I feel tired and maybe a little discouraged just writing that paragraph! However, my sis told me about a book that addresses how we can deal with the myriad expectations of women, and if I can find it on Amazon, I’m going to order it today. It’s based on the five words that Christ used to shush his disciples when they complained about the wastefulness of the woman who came into the home of Simon the leper and poured expensive ointment on Christ’s head.

They murmured that the money could have been used for the poor, and He reminded them that the poor would always be with them but that He would not. I read the passage (Mark 14: 3-8) in the King James Version of Bible this morning and found that in that translation verse 8 contains six words instead of five. After He tells the disciples to leave her alone, Christ says, “She hath done what she could.” I LOVE that!

Aren’t there times when you feel that you’re doing all you can??? It sure happens to me. And just when I feel that I'm doing all I can, something else will come along that I feel I should be doing too! Or I feel that maybe people are murmuring about my meager contributions. Those six little words are going to help me a lot.

Angelina and Oprah, two name recognition women, not only have millions, but they are willing to share their wealth with others. I’ll never start a school, adopt children, or give away cars, but I can share what I have whether it’s a few dollars for someone to get her eyebrows waxed or a pair of shoes for a grandchild. I can even smile more often. How hard can that be?

What we do doesn’t have to be of huge magnitude. If we all perform small acts of service in our own little spheres, I think Christ would be happy. Here are some things that crossed my mind this morning;

• Lib is the consummate baker, and she regularly bakes her special lemon pound cakes and delivers them to people to welcome them to the community, for Sunday dinner, or for whatever reason she deems deserving of a cake.

• My sister Ann, a math teacher, regularly tutors church members and family free of charge.

• The mother of my daughter’s former obstetrician knits hats for newborns.

• Several women of my acquaintance keep a stash of all occasion cards that they send to people who might need a little encouragement.

• A talented seamstress in our ward (church) has organized a “sit and sew” group that meets on a monthly basis. From what I can glean from the description, they work on individual projects and share ideas and expertise on creations ranging from aprons to quilting. I feel sort of guilty about not participating, especially since many of the projects are created to give to others, but I don’t enjoy sewing these days. I’d rather use my talents in another area and contribute fabric to the cause.

• Then there’s a woman who baby sits for busy moms so that they can scoot out to Wal-Mart or go to class.

Later this week I’m going to Rincon, GA to take care of my daughter’s four little children while their mom is in the hospital recovering from a C-section. That way, her husband can stay in the hospital with her. Yes, I know that’s not quite as magnanimous as moving to Rincon so that I can be more available, but well, just read Mark 14:8 and give me a break.

We’re all different and should do whatever we can without feeling guilty about what we can’t do. Can you send a card? Can you find the time to just sit and listen to one of your children, a parent, or a friend? Can you pay someone a compliment? I think it was Mark Twain who said he could live for two weeks on a good compliment. How hard is that to do??

My new mantra: She hath done what she could. Think of the multiplier effect and how much more pleasant things would be if everyone did what she could.

Watch Out!

I love my little grandchildren! In fact, I dote on them so much that I’ve picked up my friend Connie’s moniker of “granddarlings” when describing them. When I’m near them, I have a tendency to overindulge them, and when I’m away from them, I fret unnecessarily about whether they’re eating enough veggies and drinking enough milk.


I know that most grandmothers feel the same love and concern for their posterity as I do, and it makes me wonder why there aren’t more of them mentioned in the Bible. I could be wrong, but I think Lois is the only one. She’s Eunice’s mother and Timothy’s grandmother. She must have been quite a woman of faith to have been so influential in his life, and Paul praises her in a letter to Timothy, “When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice.” (II Timothy 1: 5)

I’m not claiming to have Lois’s spiritual stature. I'm just saying that a recent incident reminded me of just how influential I and other grandmothers can be.

My granddaughter Olivia had her first birthday last month, and she and her parents celebrated at my house. Using my iPhone, I took several short videos, and after viewing my favorite several times, I had the conversations and movements of my three granddaughters memorized. Only then did I begin zeroing in on the voice in the background, mine. As I followed the birthday girl and her pretty cousins from room to room, I constantly gave them warnings and instructions…in a loving way, of course.

As the video begins, Olivia is walking steadily across the kitchen, and as she nears the refrigerator, her gait is a bit wobbly, and it looks as though she might lose her balance. But no, she recovers quickly and moves towards the study. As she does so, the tiny tot realizes that there’s a threshold, a raised one that she must navigate. She puts her hand on the wall to steady herself and then takes a tentative step. In the background, Grandmama says, “Watch out, watch out. Be careful, Little One.”

A moment later, she’s rushing toward the kitchen again, this time with Brooke and Emma behind her. Once they’re all in the kitchen, Emma hugs her little cousin and when she releases her, Olivia falls. Undeterred, she immediately gets up and begins that race walking speed of hers. In the background, Grandmama says, “That’s right. Just get right back up and get going again.”

She heads to the bathroom and stares in through the open door. Remembering that she had locked herself in there earlier in the afternoon, Grandmama says to Brooke and Emma, “Watch out for her. She’s already locked herself in there once.” Her cousins do as instructed and rescue Olivia who then runs toward the study again. Once there, she plops down on the floor and pulls down a cookbook to look at. Grandmama can be heard in the background making a comment about reading.

In slightly over a minute, Grandmama has given some important life lessons:

• Watch out, especially when you’re walking over a threshold from one area of your life to another.
• Be careful.
• Get back up when you fall.
• Watch after each other.
• Delve into the books.

I’m not of shooting for the “Lois Award.” I’m just trying to be a good grandmother, and that short video shows that I’m on the right track. If a grandmother can say that much in slightly over a minute, just think what she (we) could do over a child's lifetime!

What about you? Are you a grandmother who’s involved in your grandchildren’s lives? Are there lessons that you're teaching by word and deed?

Unnamed but Important

Since I’ve become interested in the women of the Bible and the many lessons they can teach us, I’ve realized that these lessons can come from every single woman, not just the major players like Eve, Esther, and Mary.  Even those whose names aren’t specifically mentioned in the scriptures, like the woman at the well or the woman caught in adultery, have a message to impart.

The unnamed woman I’m thinking of today is found in Matthew 15: 22-28, a Gentile who dared to ask Christ to heal her daughter. She cried unto Him and asked Him to have mercy upon her and to heal her daughter who was vexed with a devil. At first, Christ doesn’t answer her, and the disciples ask Him to send her away. Jesus allows her to speak, but His response is a bit surprising (at least to me), for he tells her that it isn’t “meet” to take the children’s bread and cast it to the dogs. Whether he really thinks that she’s on the level of a dog getting crumbs from beneath the table, I don’t know. What I do know is that her behavior exhibits faith, courage, humility, respect, persistence, and love.

Christ comments specifically on the Canaanite woman’s faith. “O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt.” Her other attributes are manifestations of this unwavering faith. If a person has faith, then she will ask and then ask again, boldly confident that her request will be granted. This brave woman is my new role model because of her many traits like:

Courage: Don’t you just know she was wary of approaching the Savior? As a Gentile, she had to be a little apprehensive about it, and yet if she let her fears keep her from making her humble request, her daughter would continue to be “vexed.” I used to (and still do!) tell my children: ALWAYS ASK! If you don’t ask, the answer is NO. Even if you do ask, it might still be no, but it might also be yes.

Humility and Respect: Realizing her humble status and His divine one, she called Him “O Lord, thou Son of David,” and later “Lord.” Do I really need to say more about this? He's the Master of ocean, earth, and sky; you're a human being. He deserves our utmost respect.

Persistence: When Christ told her that it wasn’t meet to take the children’s bread and cast it to the dogs, she didn’t slink away. Instead, she persevered and reminded him that dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table. We need to persist, to stand at the door and knock and knock and knock. Some people give up almost right away when their petitions aren't granted. Whether it's a request to our Creator or one to a boss, friend, child, parent, or any other mortal, we need to keep at it.

Love: Her child was suffering. If she, the mother, didn’t beseech help on her part, who would? I’d venture to say that the well-being and safety of our children comprise a large part of parents’ prayers. Even if they’re estranged from us or walking a crooked path, we are still under obligation to pray for them.

This humble Gentile woman asked in faith, and Christ granted her request. Although he didn’t immediately turn towards her with open arms as He did with so many who sought His favors, He recognized her faith and the other virtues related to it and answered her petition. I think I’m going to follow her example, starting now.

The Better Part

I think the highlight of my 2011 Spring Break was an Easter party that I attended in Rincon, GA yesterday afternoon. The event reminded me that I have way too much Martha in me. Seriously, I could almost hear the Savior whispering, “Martha, Martha,” and that’s what prompted me to go.

My purpose for going to Rincon was to see the changes in my daughter’s house and to help her with de-cluttering, cleaning, or watching after her four children so that she could paint, organize, or do whatever else she needed to do in order to get her home and psyche in order for Seth. He’s the baby who will arrive in July, and for the last few weeks, Carrie has been gearing up for his birth. Her daughters now have their bedroom upstairs, and the boys have been moved to the former girls’ room, thus leaving a bedroom free for baby Seth. Plus, the children have new twin beds and the cool bedding to go with them.

Upon arrival, I found Carrie washing dishes and Rich power washing the outside of the house. Within seconds, I could see that even washing dishes was a challenge because of the constant interruptions and needs of the children. I then learned that we only had a couple of hours because Carrie and the kids had been invited to a birthday party. “Go ahead,” I told her. “I can tackle things here on the home front much easier with an empty house.”

The moment the van left the garage, Susie Homemaker swung into action. I cleaned the children’s bathroom, vacuumed the carpet, mopped the kitchen floor and was in the middle of washing, drying, and folding clothes when the crew arrived home from the party. The children showed me their goodies, and the girls asked me to help them make friendship bracelets. I wanted to, and yet I felt determined to finish the laundry. “In a minute,” I promised.

The children began talking about the Easter party scheduled for that same afternoon, and I told Carrie to go ahead and take them. “I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “I still have another load of laundry to fold.”

“Why don’t you go with us?” Carrie asked.

“Well, you know I have to get back to Camden before dark, and I just don’t know if I can finish what I’ve started AND go to the party.”

No reply from Carrie. Then for the third time, Brooke asked, “Grandmama, will you please help me with my bracelet now?”

Truly and sincerely, I heard, “Martha, Martha,” and within seconds, Brooke and I began working on her bracelet. I looked across the table at my tired daughter who was trying to summon the energy for the party and announced that yes, I thought it might be fun to go to a party.
We all piled in the van and rode to one of the most memorable Easter parties I’ve ever attended. The yard was beautiful with flowers, scrubs, goldfish ponds, an arbor, shade trees, and swings. Colton loved the latter; in fact, he made a beeline for a small swing, and except for the times when he was chasing balloons or devouring cupcakes, we knew where to find him.

I looked around, and my heart felt full. When did Braden grow so tall? And then, my granddaughters’ heads were easy to spot as the sun shone on the braids I had woven in their hair before the party. Brooke came over to where I was sitting on a wall enjoying some lemonade and recited the Pledge of Allegiance for me. Braden showed me where his new tooth was coming in. Emma showed me an angry red spot on the top of her foot where a “mosquito ant” had bitten her. Colton’s balloon popped, and undaunted, he marched right over to a clothesline where several were hanging and let the man in charge know that he wanted another one NOW.

There was a toddler there with pretty red hair. And Kim’s little daughter with her stretchy red headband was adorable. I met someone named Shirley who described some lovely places in Washington, thus increasing my desire to stop there when we go to Alaska next year. I also met a man who teaches at a prison, and I observed my sweet daughter conversing with several friends, thus assuring me that although her mama isn’t close by, she’s still being looked after. I ate a chocolate cupcake from LaNae’s table after decorating it with chocolate icing, and then I ate a Ball Park frank.

I sauntered over to the two goldfish ponds and saw these huge colorful fish swimming around and around and around in the pools. Leaning over one pond was one of the cutest little boys I’ve ever seen, and he was trying to catch one of the fish. He looked up at me long enough to say that he was going to catch one to take home to put in his goldfish bowl because his fish had died.

Sounds of laughter, conversation, and squeals of delighted children were all around me. And lest I forget, there was music, including “Here Comes Peter Cottontail.” The kids went on an egg hunt, and they all came back with full baskets of plastic eggs and treats. All that and more I would have missed if I’d stayed in my Martha mode. Instead, I chose the “better part,” and today I much richer for it.

Roomful of Dorcases

I was a little anxious about teaching this morning. No matter how well prepared I am, I still always feel a bit jittery. By now, I should know better. After all, the people I have to present the various lessons to are ALWAYS receptive to what their teachers have to say. I think everyone feels that we’re all in this (whatever this might mean to you) and that we need to love and support one another. Being in a room with them feels like being surrounded with a group of  Dorcases.


The lesson was on charity, the pure love of Christ, and I had read the lesson itself, two magazine articles, and at least a dozen scriptures. I had even given assignments to eight class members, thus assuring that I’d have some participation. Seriously, even if I had done nothing but read the lesson and the accompanying scriptures, I think the lesson would have gone smoothly. Why? Because I’m fortunate to be part of a group of women who walk the charitable walk and who were willing to share their examples.

None of us are perfect. Some of the examples weren’t exemplary, and yet we learned from those too. For instance, someone shared a situation in which she saw someone who appeared to be in need, but in a hurry (maybe like the priest in the Good Samaritan story?), she drove on by. The next morning she read of a murder that had taken place at the location where she had spotted the person in need. At that moment, she vowed never to let an opportunity to show compassion pass.

She got her chance soon thereafter when she stopped to help someone in a motorized wheelchair. Assuming that he was “stuck” and needed her assistance, she was surprised when he told her that he was simply enjoying being outside listening to the sounds of life, including traffic and birds. Interestingly, the wheelchair-bound gentleman confided that this kind woman was the only person who had taken the time to stop and say hello. How hard it that??? Charity doesn’t have to involve big contributions, tasty casseroles, or hours in a homeless shelter. Taking the time to stop and say hello are charitable too.

There were several other wonderful examples of charity. However, the last one was the absolute best, and I think it demonstrates something we’re all guilty of. Valerie shared a recent scenario in which she and her husband and small child were shopping in Target. She saw a young couple with a baby, and she sensed that they were struggling with deciding what to buy with their limited funds. How could they make the proverbial dollar stretch? Compassionate and caring, Valerie sent up a silent prayer to her Heavenly Father asking that He help this young couple. She walked on by, and after a few seconds, her little girl asked, “Where’s Dad?” They turned around and spotted him. Wallet open, he was giving cash to the couple. A lump in her throat, Valerie thought of how she had prayed, but her husband had acted.

Haven’t we all done that? Haven’t we all asked God to bless the sick and the afflicted, the lame and the lonely? But have we done anything about these people in need? I feel fortunate to be a member of such an organization of “sisters” who love and support each other and anyone else they see in need. They, not I, taught the lesson this morning.

Living the Dream

I’ve often remarked that the combination of religion and psychology has saved my life on innumerable occasions. Okay, maybe they haven’t saved my life, but they’ve certainly made it more enjoyable and comprehensible. I’ve gained insight, latched on to hope, been courageous, and exercised faith because of something I’ve read in either the Scriptures or in some psychological publication. I’d go as far as to say that religion and psychology overlap in many instances, especially those that indicate how to live a better life.


Here’s an example. Remember the story of the ten virgins? Five of them dutifully filled their lamps with oil, and the other five did not. I don’t know whether they thought they’d do it later and were simply procrastinating or whether they didn’t really think the bridegroom was really coming that night. Or maybe they thought their "sisters" would share a little oil with them. The point is that they weren’t prepared. At one time in my life, I thought of how selfish the prepared five were, but then I realized that you can’t live on another person’s light, oil, hard word, education, or testimony. You have to fill your own lamp.

Lately, I’ve begun looking at this story in another way. God gave them and us certain talents and aptitudes, and I sincerely believe that He intends for us to develop and use them. Interestingly, discovering and developing gifts and propensities falls squarely in the camp of positive psychology, a field that emphasizes positive human values like personal growth, optimism, and well-being.

What is your passion? What activities do you enjoy doing? What skills would you improve on if only you had the time? What would you like to learn more about if time and money were not hindrances? What’s your dream job? Are you willing to do what it takes to make that dream a reality? Those are all questions within the positive psychology realm.

Could discovering potential and developing it to the max be akin to the five wise virgins? What about the other five who failed to fill their lamps with oil? Are they like the thousands and thousands of people who live lives of frustration and unfulfilled promise?

Which is Harder?

Time is short this morning since my to-do list  is rather lengthy. Yes, even on MLK day, there are things to accomplish. True, the items are walking on the beach, reading my Kindle, and joining one of my daughters for lunch, and while those activities aren't exactly the same as "barges to load and bales to lift," they’re of great importance to me. But I digress.

At church yesterday, we were discussing sacrifice, and of course several Bible stories were included as examples. Time prohibits the discussion of all of them, so I’m including three of the primary ones.
First is the story of Abraham’s willingness to kill his beloved son Isaac. Remember, he and Sarah were advanced in years when this child entered their lives. Abraham was 100! You know his heart was hurting all the way to Mount Moriah where he finally tied his son down, ready to do what God had bidden. At the last moment, an angel intervened, and Isaac's life was spared. I’ve often wondered if Sarah knew where her husband and only son were heading when they left the homestead that morning.

Then there was the story of the rich young ruler who wanted to follow Christ. He was apparently a good man who followed the commandments. However, when Christ told him that he’d have to give up everything that he owned, he couldn’t do it. Could you??? I’m not even rich, and I don’t think I could do it. I mean, everything????

And finally there’s the story of the widow’s mite. She literally gave everything she had. What faith! What trust she had to sacrifice everything for the Lord. While I’ve always admired her sacrifice, I must admit that I’ve also felt a bit uneasy with the story, primarily because I don’t think I could do it. I don’t think I could give up everything.

In two of the three stories, the principal characters were willing to sacrifice BIG TIME. In the other, the rich ruler was willing to live a life of integrity but he simply could not give up his material possessions. While we were all pondering Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac, someone brought up the question of whether it was harder for a rich person to sacrifice everything than for a poor person (like the widow). I voted yes, but several people disagreed. They felt it would be far more difficult for a poor person since she had so little to begin with.

I’m not trying to settle an argument. There are no right and wrong answers. Both stories are in the Bible, and both are given as illustrations of sacrifice and commitment. It’s been my experience that people who have fewer material possession are often more humble. They seek God’s guidance and inspiration in their daily lives and realize that without Him, they’re sunk. At the same time, many wealthy people forget the sources of their many blessings and think they did it all themselves.

Yes, the above are both overgeneralizations. I’m just wondering what you think. Is it harder for a poor person or a rich person to sacrifice all he or she has? And while we’re on the subject, is sacrificing everything what God expects or is He happy with 10 percent?

Aunt Doc, a.k.a. Dorcas

It started with a conversation about Aunt Doc, a.k.a. Dorcas. I was telling Paul and Amanda a little bit about her, my grandmother’s oldest sister. A seamstress and smart lady, she lived to be mid-90 (not sure of the exact age). Her husband died at a relatively young age leaving her with a daughter to raise, and she never remarried. I used to go to North Carolina with my grandparents often as a child, and we’d always stay at her house. From my youthful vantage point, it seemed that my grandmother and her sisters all looked up to Aunt Doc and admired her greatly. A sharp business woman, she was a seamstress who owned her own shop downtown.

Anyway, as I was telling Paul and Amanda about her, they looked at each other with that “aha” expression, and he said, “Yeah, we did some genealogy work about her and wondered what kind of name that was. We weren’t even sure how to pronounce it.”

“I don’t know how to pronounce her name either,” I admitted. “I always called her Aunt Doc.”

“But Dorcas…what kind of name is that?” Paul persisted.

“Well, I don’t know what her parents were thinking, but I do know that Dorcas was a pretty well-respected woman in the New Testament.” I replied. “She was even called a disciple.”

Naturally, I couldn’t think of the exact scripture at that moment, but later I looked it up. Acts 9: 36 – 43 tells her story.

The Dorcas in Acts was a seamstress like Aunt Doc, and she evidently did a lot of good for other people and was greatly loved. I’m saying that based on the weeping and wailing that went on in her room after her death. Her friends sent for Peter, who upon his arrival, asked the widows and grief stricken friends to leave the room. After praying, he then brought her back to life, and although that’s the last time we read about Dorcas, I like to think that she spent several more years “doing good” and sewing for others.

Last week, our ward’s Relief Society tied quilts for the Ronald McDonald house, and when I saw the pictures, I thought, “Wow! We have at least a dozen Dorcases in our ward.” I wasn’t there that night, and I can’t sew well enough to make clothing or quilts. I can, however, support those who do, including my daughter Carrie who has caught the sewing bug and has created many articles of clothing for her children. Above is a photo of Braden and Brooke sporting their new pajama pants.

The world has need of more Dorcases. Just because she’s only given two verses in the New Testament, it doesn’t mean that she wasn’t important. I think her life had great significance and that we could all learn a lesson or two from her.

Lily-livered is the Merriam Webster word of the day. Don’t you just love it? It has so much more punch than that cowardly or weak. It’s right up there with spineless and gutless, and I can’t help but notice how those two adjectives, like lily-livered, are also related to the body. The reason the term impressed me so much is that lately I’ve been thinking more about all of the courageous women in the Bible…and all of the injunctions we’re given to be brave.

I have a busy day ahead of me so I’ll just mention two or three. Queen Esther heads my list, and anyone who’s read very much of this blog won’t be surprised by that. Risking her life, she went before the king to request a favor, and as a consequence she saved the Jewish people. Oh, and the bad guy got killed. Think what might have happened if she hadn’t squared her shoulders and said, “If I perish, I perish.”

Then there’s the woman in the New Testament who risked ridicule and censure as she made her way through the crowd to touch the hem of Christ’s robe. After suffering from an issue of blood for twelve years, she was willing to feel the fear and do it anyway. We usually think of faith as being her primary virtue, but I can see that it took courage to do this. And what did Christ do? He somehow felt her touch and turned to the crowd to ask who had touched the robe. She could have slunk off, but no, “she came trembling” (Luke 8:47) and fell down before Him. She was healed immediately and gently told to go in peace.

Although there are dozens of brave women in the scriptures, there’s just one more that I have time to mention this morning, a very young woman named Mary. The older I get, the more amazed I am at the courage, faith, and humility of the mother of Christ. In my wildest dreams, I can’t imagine being visited by an angel telling me that I’m going to be the mother of the Savior of mankind. Mary was a young teenager who never “known” a man. I don’t know what her parents had to say about the situation. I have a hard enough time imagining the conversation with Joseph.

We all feel fearful from time to time. Sometimes we need courage to speak up for ourselves, and sometimes we need to speak for those who have no voice (in a manner of speaking). Sometimes we need to ask for help, healing, or a hand, and at other times we just need to do what our Creator asks us to do. Don’t be lily-livered. Just do it!

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.

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.

Finding Balance

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Mary and Martha verses in Luke. Although there are only two of them, they’re fraught with meaning. Exactly what is the better part that Christ chastens Martha about? Okay, I know what He meant, but I don’t know how to always find the balance I need. And how does one make time for it when there are people to feed, clothes to wash, floors to sweep, and provisions to buy? I have my quiet “soul time” early in the morning, but what about other times when the Martha traits creep in?

This weekend provides an excellent case in point…or two or three of them! My husband and I bought a duplex in Myrtle Beach so that we’d have a place to retreat to when the world got “too much with us.” And we also wanted a place for family and friends to gather and have lots of fun and fellowship. Labor day weekend was to be the celebratory weekend, and my daughters, son-in-law, and four grandchildren all gathered for our first holiday together there. We had dinner guests on both Saturday and Sunday evenings, with Sunday’s repast being the family feast. My brother Mike and his family joined us for Beaufort Stew, and it was fabulous to be sitting around the table basking in each other’s company.

So anyway, pretty much all weekend I was busy, busy, busy running errands, doing laundry, cooking, and so forth. Sunday rolled around, and we all went to church together. That’s a given unless someone is sick or seriously wounded. However, Elizabeth and I left after Sacrament to make a run to Wal-Mart for some final Beaufort Stew ingredients. We didn’t feel good about it, but nevertheless, we did it. Yes, we entered a place of business and bought something on the Sabbath.

Later that afternoon while everyone else was chillin’, Elizabeth was working on lesson plans, and I was working in the kitchen, doing things in preparation for the evening’s events. My little granddaughter Brooke walked into the room and announced to us that it wasn’t right to shop on Sunday and that we were supposed to keep the Sabbath holy. Knowing that she didn’t understand the ox in the ditch principle, I let it pass.

It reminded me of days of yesteryear when my former mother-in-law would leave church early to complete dinner preparations for a houseful of hungry people. Sometimes someone might “tsk tsk” her behavior, and even then as a young person without much depth, I could well understand that if she hadn’t left early, there’d be no food. Which was the greater sin? Leaving early to do a good deed or passing judgment on someone who was doing far more good than many who stayed for all three services? I might add that on most occasions, she would also prepare an extra plate of delicious food for a shut-in widow who lived close by.

Is there a way to be Mary and Martha too? If we are too much Mary-like, who will buy groceries, prepare the food, set the table, polish the silverware, sweep the floor, and change the linens? If we are too Martha-like, then we can lose our spirituality and risk becoming materialistic, worldly, and maybe even short tempered and impatient. In the account in Luke, she appears frustrated and angry.

I’m just saying it’s hard to find the balance. I’m also saying we need to cut others some slack when they’re doing the best they can.

Woman at the Well

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.

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.

This Moment

I went to a stake Relief Society meeting on Saturday and came away with yet another lesson from the story described in the 8th chapter of John about the woman caught in adultery. Haven’t you ever wondered where her “partner in crime” was? Our speaker related that some people think that he was actually one of the Pharisees who were her accusers.

That’s not the lesson I learned Saturday, however. What I learned was that the present moment is what’s important. What you did yesterday or ten minutes ago is not as important as what you’re doing right this moment. Christ was well aware of her lifestyle and her circumstances, but he didn’t condemn, chastise, or humiliate her. He simply told her to go and sin no more.

I don’t take that to mean that yesterday doesn't count, but I do believe that sometimes we get so caught up in past mistakes, disappointments, regrets, hurts, and sin that it blinds us to the forgiveness that is proffered at this very moment. It also blinds us to the hope and joy that can be experienced tomorrow IF we can let go, IF we can go and sin no more.

What I’ve been doing since Saturday is trying to be doubly conscientious about making the right choices from moment to moment. This moment is what counts. The Spirit, as our speaker reminded us, lives in the present. Beautiful sentiment, huh?