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.

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.

Why Phyllis?

I think Dorothea and I had just had lunch at Nacho Hippo at Market Commons Friday when I got an unsettling message from Connie informing me that Phyllis was in ICU in our local hospital. Immediately, my mind conjured up an image of a beautiful woman with long, wavy blond hair and one of the sweetest faces I’ve ever seen. In recent years, she’s been struck with the BIG C, and as a result of the super strong meds, she lost her lovely tresses. I LOVED the way she looked when wearing her short strawberry blond wig, and I told her so on more than one occasion.


“You look so chic,” I’d said to her. “Plus, I can really see just how pretty your face is.”

She conquered the deadly disease, only to have it return with a vengeance, this time in her bones. Over the past several months, I’d seen her health deteriorate until finally she came to church using oxygen and sitting in a wheelchair. She was quieter, and even more serene than she had been prior to becoming sick. She seemed watchful, waiting. I admired her strength and began to feel concern for her two young children.

Saturday morning when I checked my messages on FB, the first was one from Connie informing me that Phyllis had passed away. Incredulous, I tried my best to keep the thought at bay. All day Saturday, I did entirely self-indulgent things with my family to bring in the new year, things like shopping, movie viewing, and dining out, and yet throughout the day, visions of Phyllis entered my mind. One in particular kept coming back, unbidden and a little disturbing. It was the last time I taught in Relief Society, two short weeks ago, and she sat to my right on the front row. She didn’t say anything that day, just listened intently.

Sunday morning, I opted to forgo that one last family get-together and decided to go to the beach instead. Sure hope my Christian friends don’t judge me for this, especially since the last lesson I taught was on keeping the Sabbath holy. I walked on the foggy beach for an hour and a half, and in that time I saw two horses, six dogs, 312 sea birds, and about eight people….and I listened to music on my iPod, especially hymns.

As I walked, I kept asking how this could happen to such as fine person as Phyllis. I actually got some answers, Folks. As I listened to “Where Can I Turn for Peace?” I remembered a story that Phyllis once told. She had received some disturbing family news and had passed a sleepless night. A master gardener, she arose early and went to her garden to work. She worked amongst her plants, and while pondering the news and praying for peace, she began to think, “Things will be fine. Everything will work out.” Remembering that story brought some solace.

Still, I couldn’t get her off of my mind. I just couldn’t understand how such a wonderful wife and mother could be taken from her family. Then I thought, “You can’t understand because you’re Jayne, not God. He has His reasons and is still in control here.” At that moment, a couple of verses from Isaiah came to mind, the ones about His ways and thoughts being higher than ours. It’s in Chapter 55, Verse 9: “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Everyone who knew Phyllis will miss her. At the same time, whenever I see her husband and children, remembering where she sought solace will bring some comfort. Plus, the fact that our ways are not God’s ways will bring understanding.

The Hundred Dresses

It’s hard not to enjoy yourself at a meeting when you’re surrounded with like-minded people who are supportive, encouraging, and caring. When the meeting itself is focused on individual growth and service to others, the enjoyment factor is moved up a notch.


Here’s what happened at Relief Society the other night. Three women took turns reading from a children’s book entitled The Hundred Dresses, a book about a little girl named Wanda who claimed to have one hundred dresses hanging in her closet. As far as the other girls could see, however, she only had one faded blue one that she wore day after day after day. They began to tease her about it, and then one day her father wrote a letter to the school announcing that he was moving his little family away from a place where his children were made fun of. To make a long story short, the other girls felt remorse at their behavior, but it was too late to make amends. One of them, Maddie, felt especially ashamed because although she had been feeling uneasy about the taunting, she had remained quiet.

You can guess the underlying themes in this book, and our leaders took the opportunity to remind us to show kindness to everyone regardless of social class, accent, race, appearance, or occupation. Everyone had been asked to bring a dress to donate to Sister Care, an organization for abused and battered women and their children. It was awesome to look around the room and look at the lovely dresses that had been donated.

After listening to the book and discussing its several themes, then several women shared stories about their favorite dresses. Some of them brought pictures of themselves wearing the dresses, and a couple actually wore them that night. Kitty wore an outfit that had cost a pretty penny a couple of decades ago, and the story about its purchase entertained us big time. I loved all the stories, but I think my favorite was Vickie’s because she brought pictures of her wedding that took place in June, 1971. Not only did she tell the interesting tale about how she found just the perfect dress for the right price, but she also told of how many things she and Joe had experienced in the nearly four decades since that June afternoon.

Since Thursday, I’ve been thinking of my favorite dresses. There are too many to write about! One I’m thinking of tonight, however, is an Easter dress that my mother made for me when I was a junior in college. It was made of some pink floral material with a little slinkiness about it. My sister had one too; hers was green. I’m not sure why this particular dress was so special unless it’s because we corresponded back and forth about it, and my sister and I knew how hard our mother was working on the dresses.

Dresses can make you feel beautiful…or kind of dowdy. I try to stay away from the latter. I thinking right now of some special little girls who LOVE to dress up in princess dresses. In fact, Brooke and Emma wore their pink princess dresses to see Toy Story last night. Lauren says that as soon as Sallie gets home every day, she changes into her Tinker Bell dress. Can you blame them for wanting to look like the princesses they are?

I probably should end this post with a serious note that reminds us to give to those less fortunate, to take up for those who are teased or mistreated, and to give to those less fortunate. But I’m not. You already know that, right? I’m going to end by asking about your favorite dress. Do you have a favorite one? What’s the story that goes with it?

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.

Thanks, Mr. Tyndale

Sunday’s Relief Society lesson went well if I do say so myself, not because of anything I did but because of two other reasons: the topic itself and the people in the class. Scripture study was the topic, and class members were as attentive and participative as always. They’re such a delightful group that I think if I said, “Today the lesson’s about the 12 tribes of Israel, and I’m feeling a little inadequate,” they’d come to my rescue…not because they’re a room of know-it-alls and show-offs but because they know why we’re there: to love, encourage, and support one another. After all, they're Eve's sisters.

The lesson was about scripture(s), and as I began to read and prepare, I was amazed at the things I learned and the things I was reminded of. Admittedly, I often take the scriptures for granted. I think most people do. Yet there was a time in the not too far distant past when ordinary people like us didn’t have access to the Bible, much less any other books of scripture.

In my preparation, I learned of a man named William Tyndale who was strangled and then burned at the stake for translating and publishing the Bible in English. This happened in 1536, not even 500 years ago, and while that seems like a long time, it really isn’t. An educated man, Tyndale spoke eight languages and was a member of the Catholic clergy. Distressed that the common man had no access to the scriptures, Tyndale sought church approval to translate the Bible into English. After being denied approval, he fled to Germany, and with the help of friends, translated and published the Old and New Testaments and smuggled published copies into England. Tyndale’s work is the foundation for the King James Version of Bible.

William Tyndale isn’t the only person to whom we owe a debt of gratitude, but he’s the one I’m thinking of this afternoon. I’m thinking of how this man was willing to sacrifice his life because of his unwavering commitment to make the words of God available for all people…or at least the English speaking ones. And yet today many people take this great book for granted…or perhaps don’t even realize its importance. It sits on a shelf gathering dust instead of enlightening the minds of its owners.

Today we not only have the King James Version of the Bible, but we also have several other versions. On my shelf is a version of the New Testament entitled The Message which reads like a narrative. I also have a copy of the Women’s Devotional Bible, a gift from my sister. Being LDS, I have copies of The Book of Mormon, The Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price. I can also access the words from all of these books (and many more) online. Heck, I can even have daily scripture messages sent to my hotmail address, and they show up on my cell phone. How convenient is that? I truly have no excuse not to read and ponder.

It occurs to me that one of the reasons the scriptures are so readily available is that perhaps God is trying to send us a message. Maybe He thinks we need instruction, inspiration, guidance, and peace more than ever. I love the Young Women’s theme this year, probably because of the encouragement it offers. The theme comes from Joshua 1:9, and it fills me with hope. “Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.”

Be strong. Be tough. Be strong. You’re not alone…not ever.

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.

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??