The Two Great Commandments

Spring has arrived, and I’m gonna try and articulate a thought that has been marinating in my head for several weeks. 

As a preface, let me say this: I’m a very active Latter-day Saint: church goer, temple attender, tithe payer, the whole 9 yards. I visit teach, I fast, and I serve in my callings. I LOVE my faith. And I love the organization of the church, for so many reasons.

That being said, I had two conversations back in February that are still with me. 

One was at a wedding, and the other was in the living room of a friend in the middle of the night.

I said something in both interactions that I’ve continued to think about, and I want to more fully express the thought here.

It goes like this:

At the end of my life, I don’t want to be evaluated by how many times I was in church, or whether I attended stake conference, or if General Conference was a priority in my life.

I don’t want somebody to look at my "stat sheet" and, if they see “good marks,” conclude that I must have been a good person. 

I find that completely offensive.

The Savior taught that everything hangs on two things: whether I love God, and if I love my neighbor.

I’m not saying that covenants and commandments aren’t important; Christ taught those too, and covenants, commandments, and prophets have made all the difference in my life. But as I think about my own spirituality, the piercing questions I ask myself come from pondering those two great commandments. 

Today, for example, I’m much more concerned about if I’m an ass in my interactions with other people, and if I'm actually looking out for my neighbor. Do I genuinely mourn with someone who is mourning? Have I learned to apologize when I make mistakes or hurt someone else? Do I care about another person’s feelings and perspective as much as my own? Do I try to elevate myself or focus on the contributions of others? Is my life about me, or is it about service? Do I practice honesty and live with integrity? Am I genuine in my interactions with other people? What are my motivations? Do I freely extend love, forgiveness, and compassion to others, recognizing that I desperately need those same things? Do I feed my ego, or do I live with humility?

These are the things I think about.

Questions like these expose how much I lack, and increasingly fill me with deeper gratitude for the Savior.

Christ’s example gives me one towering, upward-climbing ideal after another, and I am eternally grateful for the staggering gift of His atonement. He always inspires me to examine myself, start over, choose love and kindness, apologize, serve, humble myself, forgive, prioritize, recognize my own faults, and keep trying. His virtues are astonishing, demanding, and beautiful. But here's the thing:

His central characteristic is love. 

And at the end of the day, that's what it comes down to for me. 

At the end, I hope my life story reveals a simple woman who tried to LIVE what she believed, even though she was sometimes (frequently) an ass and she constantly fell short.

But even in the falling short,

she trusted in God's grace and found joy.

Dreaming

On Saturday morning, I woke from a dream.

I had been working as a field hand picking cherries.

From inside a building there, I heard someone playing my dad's arrangement of

"God Be With You 'Til We Meet Again," and went inside to hear

it. It's one of his arrangements that isn't recorded.

I think it was my mother playing and she was piecing some things

together, kind of a variation of the hymn and then playing a verse of dad's that we had.

My sister Susan was standing there, too.

As Mom started to play it again, I was washed in emotion as I thought about my dad

and felt that deep pang of missing.

Susan came and stood by me, we hugged each other,

and in a moment, we were both sobbing.

And I woke up.

Kind of funny, because I spent Friday night cleaning my house.

It was driving me crazy.

Folded all the laundry.

Vacuumed the entire house.

Scrubbed bathrooms.

Dusted.

Mopped all the floors.

Soaped out my kitchen sink.

And as I stood there at the sink in the late-night quiet, I was thinking about him.

Sometimes I think about my grandparents, and how it wasn't that long ago that they were in the busy stage of life that I'm in.

They were raising kids and pursuing careers.

They were chatting with neighbors and laughing in kitchens.

They were involved and vibrant in their communities.

And now?

All but one of them has gone on--in almost just a moment, really.

Reminds me of another dream I had years ago that left an impression on me. I had just died, and my spirit literally went up through the ceiling of the room where my body was laying. And as I went through the ceiling, I went into a room of people and immediately found my father and aunt. They were laughing and happy and talking.

It was just as real there as life here and I was struck by how familiar it felt, as though nothing had changed.

But I remember feeling distressed because I was thinking of my little sister, still here. I knew she was crying because I'd died and I wanted to comfort her.

The older I get, the more I realize that our time here is short,

what we do here matters, and we will go on sooner than we think.

And I realize that the things my ancestors gave me--

their strength, their convictions, their examples, and their love--

are just as active through the veil that separates us as they were when they were here in the flesh.

I can feel those things, even though I can't see them, 

and it's strong--

especially from my father.

Someday I will see him again, and I'll run.

And when I get to him, I'll hug him and hold on.

And I'll thank him for hovering over my life.

Joy

I drove home tonight with a full heart.

I had been at a rehearsal where I felt joy and so much gratitude, and afterward, found myself in conversation with a woman I'd never met before, who approached me to tell me how much they had loved my dad.

I cried, and she cried.

And as I drove home in the dark, back to my neighborhood to pick up my kids from some friends, the two beautiful things of the evening blended into one.

In a very pointed way, I felt like other hands, specific hands, are both involved and hovering.

And, in a way I haven't felt since he has been gone, I found myself wishing I could call my dad.

I wanted to share my joy.

I wanted to share my heart.

I wanted him to know how lucky I feel, how grateful I am.

I wanted to thank him, hug him, shout in my excitement.

I can't adequately articulate the feeling.

And in a way, I felt that he knows, and that he feels it, too.

And it was all in joy for this.

Isaiah spent a good couple of hours yesterday sketching this and then painting it after we'd talked about it that morning.

I love this painting.  

So much.

This building has special significance for me from when I was a child.

We were there for conferences, like so many others, and I remember always sitting up in the balcony.

It also was home to some late night Christmas Eve services, letting out at midnight, those first early, early minutes of Christmas mornings.

I remember the day that it burned down, being so dismayed and sad.

And I also remember being in dad's basement when President Monson announced that it would be completely restored and dedicated as the second temple in Provo City.

I remember we sat there, looking at each other in astonishment upon hearing that news.

And here we are, just a couple of months away from its dedication. 

When I watched this movie that the church put out about the project, I was moved. 

The interior (from what I could see of it) was stunning.

It recalls, in so many ways, the style of the original building -- the woodwork, especially, caught my heart.

There is so much that I don't even begin to understand about temples.  And really what I understand mostly comes from what I have felt in my heart and not something I know in my head.

But, I'll say this.

I absolutely believe in hovering hands.

I believe that love is constantly active, on both sides of the veil.

I know those hands and that love, are real -- not just something sweet that we talk about.

And I believe that these structures are symbols of that love.

To Guide Us In These Latter Days

Just over a week ago, we got to listen to a general conference of the church.

It happens twice a year, and these weekends have become places of rest for me---rest, renewal, peace, strength, and love.

This time as I listened, I felt conviction, and I felt God's love in personal ways.

I heard messages that strengthened me, words I needed to hear.

Here are some pictures from our conference weekend, complete with waffles, conference books to take notes in, activities as we listened, fried chicken and mashed potatoes, caramel apples, lighting our first fire of the season to sit by while we read Summer of the Monkeys in the cool darkness of night, with the door open so we could hear the wind rustling out in the trees outside.

And, interspersed between the photos, I've put just a portion of my favorite quotes from conference, with links to the talks that they came from.

"Scripture says, 'Search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things shall work together for your good.' This doesn't mean all things are good, but for the meek and faithful, things---both positive and negative---work together for good, and the timing is the Lord's.  We wait on Him, sometimes like Job in his suffering, knowing that God 'maketh sore, and bindeth up: he woundeth, and his hands make whole.' A meek heart accepts the trial and the waiting for that time of healing and wholeness to come. ...in order to have a healed and faithful heart, we must first allow it to break before the Lord. 'Ye shall offer for a sacrifice unto me a broken heart and a contrite spirit,' the Lord declares.  The result of sacrificing our heart, or our will, to the Lord is that we receive the spiritual guidance we need."  (Sister Neill F. Marriott -- for full talk, go here)

(she has a new-found love of dumping out glue)

"The Holy Ghost doesn't tell us to improve everything at once.  If He did, we would become discouraged and give up.  The Spirit works with us at our own speed, one step at a time, or as the Lord has taught, 'line upon line, precept upon precept,...and blessed are those who hearken unto my precepts,...for unto him that receiveth I will give more.'...Humbly ask the Lord the following question: 'What is keeping me from progressing?'  In other words: 'What lack I yet?'  Then wait quietly for a response.  If you are sincere, the answer will soon become clear.  It will be revelation intended just for you. ...The Spirit can show us our weaknesses, but He is also able to show us our strengths.  Sometimes we need to ask what we are doing right so that the Lord can lift and encourage us."  (Elder Larry R. Lawrence -- for full talk, go here)

"Dating is the opportunity for lengthy conversations.  When you date, learn everything you can about each other.  Get to know each other's families when possible.  Are your goals compatible?  Do you share the same feelings about the commandments, the Savior, the priesthood, the temple, parenting, callings in the Church, and serving others?  Have you observed one another under stress, responding to success and failure, resisting anger, and dealing with setbacks?  Does the person you are dating tear others down or build them up?  Is his or her attitude and language and conduct what you would like to live with every day?  That said, none of us marry perfection; we marry potential.  The right marriage is not only about what I want; it's also about what [he]---who's going to be my companion---wants and needs me to be."

(p.s. Loved this quote.  But, it also is strange to be in a situation where dating counsel applies to me again.)

"A wonderful Church member recently told me, 

'I didn't raise my children on money; 

I raised them on faith.'"

(both of those quotations were from Elder Hales' talk -- for full talk, go here)

(Activities: note taking, snacking, drawing, engino building, Mia and I making mosaic trees with construction paper)

"It is not only the prenatal carrying but the lifelong carrying that makes mothering such a staggering feat. ...most mothers know intuitively, instinctively that this is a sacred trust of the highest order. ...To all of our mothers everywhere, past, present, or future, I say, 'Thank you.  Thank you for giving birth, for shaping souls, for forming character, and for demonstrating the pure love of Christ.'  To all mothers in every circumstance, including those who struggle---and all will---I say, 'Be peaceful.  Believe in God and yourself.  You are doing better than you think you are. ...I can pay no higher tribute to anyone."  (Elder Jeffrey R. Holland -- for full talk, go here)

"...to effectively serve others we must see them through a parent's eyes, through Heavenly Father's eyes.  Only then can we begin to comprehend the true worth of a soul.  Only then can we sense the love that Heavenly Father has for all of His children.  Only then can we sense the Savior's caring concern for them.  We cannot completely fulfill our covenant obligation to mourn with those who mourn and comfort those who stand in need of comfort unless we see them through God's eyes.  This expanded perspective will open our hearts to the disappointments, fears, and heartaches of others."

(Elder Dale G. Renlund -- for full talk, go here)

"...we need women who know how to make important things happen by their faith and who are courageous defenders of morality and families in a sin-sick world.  We need women who are devoted to shepherding God's children along the covenant path toward exaltation; women who know how to receive personal revelation, who understand the power and peace of the temple endowment; women who know how to call upon the powers of heaven to protect and strengthen children and families; women who teach fearlessly."  (Elder Russell M. Nelson -- for full talk, go here)

There are lots of things I'm not sure about, many questions I can't answer.  But one thing I feel positive about, deep down into my bones?  

There are prophets of God on earth today.

I know this.

I feel it when they speak.

Their words bring peace, light, direction, truth, and blessing to my heart.

The Word of God

As I was folding laundry on Thursday night, Mia came in to talk to me, as she often does before she falls asleep.

Most of the time, I shoo her back into bed, because I am ready for quiet and for some personal time.

Sometimes I am not even very nice about my shooing.

But.

Last Thursday, as I tucked her back in bed, I saw that the Book of Mormon that I received when I was baptized at 8 years old was next to her pillow.

I told her I wanted to take that one back to my room, because that book has a special place in my heart.  The book, yes.  Definitely yes.  But I was referring to that specific copy.

I told her that I have such a warm feeling when I heft that book, and even just when I see it.

And I told her why.

Because that is where I became acquainted with God, where my testimony happened, where the Spirit confirmed to me the beauty of the doctrines of the gospel.

It happened within those pages, of that particular book.

It happened as a little girl and young woman, in my bedroom at night---reading, marking, thinking about those words and pondering.

When I go to that place in my memory, it is warm.  Peaceful.  Quiet.  Deliberate.  Strengthening.

She asked me if I would read her some of the things I had written in the margins.

Out of bed she came.

We went back to my room, and really just sat and looked at the book, and Mia tried to read a few words.

I had the chance to tell her that spending time with the word of God takes it down into your heart. And that the Holy Ghost had brought me peace because of what I know from the scriptures.  As I was talking with her, I thought of this talk, which is a favorite.  It always prompts me to consider the blessings in my life as a result of the word of God.

I told Mia that I wasn't afraid when Poppi died, because of what I learned in the scriptures.

When I have questions or don't know what to do, or hit obstacles in my life, I have found peace because of what I know from the scriptures.

That it was in the scriptures that I gained a testimony of the validity of a Heavenly Father, and where my love for the Savior happened.

Where it began, where it took root, where it was nourished.

In Lehi's vision, the word of God led people to the tree, to the fruit that was the love of God -- to feasting and rejoicing in that wholeness.

I have felt that for myself.

I read Mia Moroni's promise, where he says that, "...by the power of the Holy Ghost, ye may know the truth of all things."

I told her that if she chooses to spend time with the word of God, the Holy Ghost will also confirm these things to her.

I told her that my testimony of the gospel, and them, are my most cherished blessings.

And then, lying next to her (by this time I had tucked her back in), I sang her the words of a primary song that have been a favorite since I was a child.  Perhaps they are so dear to me because of my feelings for the scriptures.

"I love to read the holy scriptures, and every time I do, 

I feel the spirit start to grow within my heart---

A testimony that they're true.

Search, ponder, and pray---

Are the things that I must do.

The Spirit will guide,

And deep inside,

I'll know the scriptures are true.

So prayerfully I'll read the scriptures

Each day my whole life through.

I'll come to understand.

I'll heed the Lord's command

And live as He would have me do.

Search, ponder, and pray---

Are the things that I must do.

The Spirit will guide,

And deep inside,

I'll know the scriptures are true."

I find myself hoping that my children will have a love of the scriptures, that the word of God will nourish and sustain them.  

I have found solace, comfort, faith, direction, counsel, nudgings to repent, peace, admonition, courage, doctrine, application of principles, teaching, revelation, joy, knowledge, conviction, and truth there.

Beautiful does not even begin to describe it, but it is a beautiful thing---

a glorious gift from God.

Baptism Day

My boys were baptized today.

What will I remember?

The way they kind of tottered in that funny way they do when they walked up to get confirmed because they get embarrassed and shy when lots of people are watching them.

I'll remember sitting back behind them, watching them talk with their dad, cherishing the love that I witnessed between the three of them.  Filled me with both joy and sadness, a kind of achy beauty.

I'll remember watching Grandpa, and listening to his voice, as he baptized them.

I'll remember the love I felt as we all gathered together afterwards -- at this strange time where we are kind of two separate entities at this point, but it didn't feel like two sides.

I'll remember Benji's wet head as he snuggled up next to me on the church pew.

I'll remember talking to the four boys from our ward who were baptized -- about campfires and the Holy Ghost.  The Holy Ghost enlightens us in many ways, but I chose to focus on three for the children today.

They identified for me that a fire gives both warmth and light, two things I was hoping they would point out.

I talked about how the Holy Ghost is like a fire -- that He will bring light where there is darkness in your life.  Those times when you don't know what the answer is or what decision to make or where to go or the moments (or years) you feel lost.

He also, like a fire, brings warmth -- those moments of peace, comfort, joy and love.

I also asked them, "What happens when you get too close to a fire?"

They responded that you get burned.

So then I said, "Okay, you're right, but what about before you actually get burned, but you're too close?  What will happen?"

We talked about how you will become uncomfortable, and that this is also the Spirit's role.  When you come too close to something that you shouldn't be doing, or if you are in a place that you shouldn't be, or going to make a choice that isn't a good one, the Spirit will allow you to feel uncomfortable.

I will remember the way that Carol Wilson, our Primary President, talked to the kids about seeing all the people that came to be there with them, on this special day.  And then, quite emotional, she encouraged them to think of others, beyond the veil, who would be in attendance.  I thought of my sweet Dad, and know he wouldn't have missed it for anything.  The gospel truth is deep into his bones, and he loves these boys.

I'll think of my two sons -- flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone, fresh and clean, in their Sunday suits -- bright, energetic, happy.

I will think about going to dinner with my boys last night. 

It is hardly ever just me and them, alone.  

We got to talk about why baptism is important, about it being their first covenant they are making with God.  

We talked about making mistakes -- about how I make lots of mistakes every single day.  

But then -- and I rejoice in this -- because God knew that, He provided the Savior for all of us, and we ask for repentance, every day, as we review the day and we try to do better.

We talked about working to create your own relationship with God.

Just tonight, after I had gotten really mad at them (yup -- mistakes every day -- right here!), I went into my room for a little bit, and I was so irritated.  Then, I went back to their room and Benji was still awake.  I sat down and rubbed his head and told him I was sorry for losing my temper and that I loved him.  And he said, "I just said my prayers, Mom, and I asked to be forgiven for not listening."

I was proud of him.

Gosh.  

If I could count the ways that I am not very good at listening, sometimes, to what I know in my heart, it would be a very long list.

But I suppose that I can say that I'm trying.

I hope they see me trying.

And that I'm walking the same road that they are walking -- that we are all trying.

I hope they know how much I love them.

And when I talk with them about my faith -- and the gratitude I feel for the Savior and the gospel, I hope they know that it is in my heart.

That I hope that same light and conviction fills their hearts and minds one day, too.

And that, today,

I am so proud of them for the choice they made.

Timeless Grace

Sunday morning I got up and it was rainy, wet and gray outside.  The air smelled clean and I got ready to go to a rededication session for the Ogden Utah temple.

In that session, the temple was described as "a place of timeless grace."

When I hear that word, I think of beauty, gentleness, stillness, holiness.  

And I think of help I so desperately need -- heavenly attending, of power beyond my own that comes to aid me in overcoming, seeing more clearly, and being made free.

I may not always see that in measurable ways -- but I believe in it, and I believe in promises I have felt in my heart.

For me, the temple hasn't always been familiar. There was a time when it was new and a little strange and it felt different.  I wanted to have deep experiences of peace and revelation there.  Over time, I have found that the more I go, the greater the quiet in my heart, the more love and peace I feel -- the more aware I am of it being an intersection between heaven and earth.  

Just last week, I attended the temple on Thursday with a friend.

Before getting ready to leave the temple and head for home, I sat in a quiet room where the stillness was tangible.  As I let that quiet envelop me, I started to feel other things -- thoughts that came as from wings, from some other place, touching me and gone again.

I run up against a perennial challenge, tho, and it is this.

While I'm there, I can kind of zone in on thinking about holiness and purpose.  I can think about my questions.  I can ask them in my mind and sometimes have a conversation of sorts, with answers coming -- more of those wings.  I can feel and have experiences in that intensity of focus and quiet.

But then I come home.  

Lately, I have felt frequently frustrated in my mothering of my boys particularly -- and I am longing to feel more of that holiness and peace with them, more confident in the job I am doing in mothering them.  Wanting more intersections between 

heaven and earth in these four walls.

Less yelling and frustration and contention in exchange for more selfless service, love, beauty, unity and respect.

I need the temple because of the powerful reminders of 

covenants and forgiveness and faith.

I need it because it keeps me looking forward, and upward. 

I need it because of what I learn there, of the blessings and promises I have been taught about there -- those things that keep me holding on and believing and striving.

Those blessings and promises respond to the 

deepest yearnings of my frail and faulty heart.

And they are taught there, alongside the acknowledgement of my not being perfect, and of astonishing love for me and for those I love.

I go there, because I can remember -- and feel sustained by -- eternal truth.

I am reminded of this quote by Rene Daumal:

“You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know.”

Mmm hmm.  

Yes.

When I come away, back into my very imperfect, very faltering, stumbling offering of my day-to-day life, I can still seek and strive for:

holiness,

purity,

stillness,

selflessness,

service,

revelation,

quiet,

beauty,

and love,

because of what I've seen and felt there.

And when I stumble and mess up, like I do every single day, I exercise faith in that "timeless grace," asking God to let it wash over me and urge me forward.

Sunday Evening

(my nephew, Soren)

 Yesterday around dinner time, I was at my sister's house.  It was cold and windy out, but there was a warm glow within.  We had gathered together as a large family for my nephew's ordination to the Aaronic priesthood.  (Read more about the priesthood in general here.)

While waiting for the bishop to arrive, we sang hymns.  I love singing with that group...they are a bunch of rich singers,and I feel the conviction from their very hearts.

As we began with In Humility, Our Savior, and finished with Redeemer of Israel (two of my favorite hymns), my emotions were very tender.  I felt the spirit so strongly, and felt as though I was witnessing a moment of truth and love and togetherness because of our faith.

I watched the men in our family gather round and ordain Soren to the office of a deacon.  I couldn't help but feel such gratitude and love for what was happening, and a deep spirit of thanksgiving for the worthy men in my life who I can turn to.  I salute them for their goodness and for the strength of their faith.  I feel protected and safe in their care.  I have felt so blessed by the priesthood throughout my life and been strengthened by God's power, by feeling of His awareness and care.

I couldn't help but be reminded of this talk, which has remained one of my favorites over the past few years.  When you have some time, click on over for a few minutes of inspirational reading and study.  As a friend of mine said after it was given, "This talk just felt like a big hug to all of Heavenly Father's daughters."  

We are not LESS because we do not hold the responsibilities of the priesthood.  Our calling is no less important, is equal in every way, is both ennobling and stunning, and is a complement and counterpart to the priesthood.  I know this.

Elder Scott talks with the men of the church about honoring the priesthood, and then places special emphasis on using it to bless Heavenly Father's daughters.  He reflects on woman as being the supreme creation of God.

Even thinking about it now, I want Soren to know how much the priesthood has blessed my life, how excited I am for it to guide his growth, teach him about service, and aid him in blessing others.  The priesthood is here to BLESS.  This is another thing I am so sure of.

I'm so proud of him.

I'm grateful for the goodness I see (and feel) in him.

Messages of Peace

In the early afternoon, my house is bathed in light.  It is a singular time of day for me as the brightness floods in, bringing out the honey grain in the wood, the rich colors.  The brilliance of it seems to draw my attention, calling me at the same time to bask in it and reflect, commanding an immediate sense of quiet from somewhere inside.

Years ago, as a little girl, my family traveled to the cabin for a week in the summer.  The cabin wasn't plumbed and when we had to go to the bathroom in the night, we depended on having each other and a flashlight.  You could get to the outhouse just fine without the light, but who would want to face the dark woods alone?  We were young, the woods were deep and dark and quiet, and it felt good to hold something that could pierce that and give you a direct, clear line of view.

I've thought about that as a metaphor for the Holy Ghost.  We are, as it were, away from home for a time, in a world that while stunning and beautiful and full of remarkable blessings, is becoming increasingly darkened by unbelief, skepticism, injustice, and disregard for moral standards and behavior.  In a discussion on Sunday this talk was referenced, comparing light to revelation.  Sometimes it comes so pressingly, as though, in one step, you've walked from a dark room into a light one.  Other times, the light seems to distill gradually, like a morning sunrise.  Both are ways that the Holy Ghost communicates with us. 

One of the roles of the Holy Ghost is to bring peace, REAL peace, the kind that money cannot buy, the kind that success and prestige of any kind cannot replicate.

I was asked on Sunday if I would share an experience where I had felt the influence of the Holy Ghost, and after doing so, I challenged myself and the women I was with to start looking more earnestly and try to recognize the Holy Ghost in the day-to-day-ness of life.

  Last night I burrowed into my bed late, spooning up to Mr. C. to warm my body and my forever-and-always cold feet (thank you, I love this).  I found myself thinking about the messages of peace I've recognized and felt lately, even just over the weekend.

I remembered Saturday morning, lazy, lazy, waking up late.  Scott and the children were gone on their Saturday morning outing.  I ate a bowl of cereal in the quiet and started into a book.  Moving the couch into direct sunlight, I wrapped a cozy blanket around me and sat in that warmth, reading, for almost three hours.  Quiet, peaceful, time to think and process and engage.

Later that evening, Mr. C. and I knelt in prayer to begin fasting together, discussing beforehand the things we were pondering in our hearts and minds, things we desperately feel we need direction on.  As he was voice for our prayer, I felt the power of uniting in faith, trusting that this road is possible because we're on it together, and because God hears and answers prayers.

Sunday morning was beautiful and crisp out.  Blue sky, morning rays of sun kissing lawn and curtains and carpet.  Light like that is contagious.  

All the children came into our bed, and we began our new book, reading the first chapter of Summer of the Monkeys.  Peace, my friends.  It was there.

In church I sat listening to a young man in our ward talking about faith amid the questions of science and those questioning belief in something greater.  He finished and I was up on my feet, so touched and motivated by his remarks.  I kept thinking I was going to be able to hold it together but his words touched me so deeply, my emotions literally spilled out, too.  I was so proud of him for saying that choosing faith can be hard.  I wanted him to know that we continue to have to choose that.  Life, as I've contemplated so much in the past several months, is about choosing faith.  I feel as though I've had to surrender, in so many aspects of my life, to choosing faith and forging ahead in trust.  We are here to see if through all the battles, we will continue to choose what we chose before we came: the freedom to believe and exercise faith in Jesus Christ.  That is the answer, and it is a lesson I continue to learn again and again. 

Before going to bed on Sunday night I wrote love notes and tucked them into boxes, feeling love within my heart as I wrote to each of my children and my husband.  It was so real and so calming and filled me with gratitude.

And last evening, the kids and I listened to Scott's lesson for us in our family home evening.  He told the story of Enos, and had taken the time to draw pictures for the children.  Every once in a great while it seems like there is a lot of extra quiet in family home evening, and we're dialed in more than other nights.  That was last night.  He had told the kids that he wanted them to think about things they could learn from this story before he began.  

  (Enos goes into the forest to hunt.)

 (Scott realized, too late, that he should have drawn a bow and arrow instead of a rifle.  Love it.  He goes to hunt wild beasts, and while there, remembers the words his father often spoke about Jesus Christ.)

(Because of his reflections, he prays seeking a renewal of the Lord's spirit in his life and to receive forgiveness.  That forgiveness comes and he wonders how that can possibly have happened, and is answered that it was because of his faith.)

I found myself pondering implications of that story for me.  In the end, the Spirit whispered to me that choosing to exercise faith in Jesus Christ is also choosing to change, to repent, to want continual progress, not stagnant hope without any working on our part.  If you truly pick up one end of that stick, you automatically pick up the other end, too.  As Elder D. Todd Christofferson said, 

"Repentance means striving to change.  It would mock the Savior's suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross for us to expect that He should transform us into angelic beings with no real effort on our part.  Rather, we seek His grace to complement and reward our most diligent efforts.  Perhaps as much as praying for mercy, we should pray for time and opportunity to work and strive and overcome.  Surely the Lord smiles upon one who desires to come to judgment worthily, who resolutely labors day by day to replace weakness with strength.  Real repentance, real change may require repeated attempts, but there is something refining and holy in such striving." 

(for full talk, go here)

 Sometimes it seems as though the version of myself that I hope to be and what I actually am are disparagingly far apart.  But I am grateful for a God who, through the Holy Ghost, helps me recognize His beauty and power working, even for one as simple as me.  I am grateful for the challenge and for the journey and for opportunities, great and small, to reflect and try to tune in.  The Holy Ghost fills me with hope and joy, urges me forward, and calms, at times, my troubled heart.  He helps me to see the holiness in striving, confirming the next step, that small flashlight beam penetrating the darkness and fear of the unknown, bringing clarity, insight, and peace in His wake.

(Go here for a video that touched me this weekend.)