In spite of my tears, I feel peace

By Erin P.

Thanksgiving is a wonderful time of year.  It is a time for us to focus on what is really important, and to give appreciation for all of the wonderful blessings we have.  But Thanksgiving is also a sad time for me.  Fifteen years ago, while I was visiting my siblings in California for Thanksgiving, my brother, Jon, died in a car accident.  He was delivering pizzas for his job, the roads were slick.  He went around a curve in the road and lost control of his car, swerving into oncoming traffic.  The doctors told us that he was dead before ever getting to the hospital.  

Although much of that day is a blur, there are certain images and feelings that are seared into my mind forever.  I remember getting the phone call telling us to go to the hospital as soon as possible.  After getting the call, Laurie asked if I would say a prayer.  During my prayer I asked Heavenly Father to please help Jon be all right.  I started crying.  I knew that he wasn’t.  When we got to the hospital and told them who we were there to see, and they double checked the name a few times, I knew that he wasn’t okay.  When instead of taking us to see him they took us to a room and a doctor started talking to us, I knew that he wasn’t okay.  

The rest of my visit to California is a blur.  Somehow Becky, Matt and I drove back to Utah.  I know I left a message for my roommates so that I wouldn’t have to talk about it when I got back.  Someone in my parent’s ward used frequent flier miles to get Becky and I home for the funeral.  

I did a lot of crying that week.  And a lot of praying.  I had been taught my whole life that we aren’t gone when we die.  That our spirits live on and we will be resurrected and reunited with our families one day, all because of the gift of our Savior.  I believed these things, but that belief had never been tested.  It is often through our trials that we gain strength, and this was true for me in this.  I can’t even count the number of times where I felt the Holy Ghost giving me comfort, like a huge hug, during these days when everything was still so raw and new.  

Even still, when I feel sad, or when I miss my brother, I can feel comfort.   I know that he is not gone, just away for a while.  I know that I will see him again.  I know that my husband and children, who don’t know Jon, will have their chance to become friends.  I know that he is okay.  Even as I write this, I cry because I miss my brother, and because the pain is still real.  But I don’t have to carry that pain alone, and in spite of my tears, I feel peace.

John 3:16 “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” 

Matthew 28:6 “He is not here: for he is risen, as he said.”

So on Thanksgiving, I am especially grateful for my Savior.  For making it possible for me to see my brother again.

How have you felt God's love in your time of loss? During the Thanksgiving season, how do you show your gratitude for Jesus's sacrifice for you?

Being a good example can be missionary work

Editor's note: I received this email in my inbox with a suggestion that it end up on the ward blog. Of course it can end up on the ward blog! The email:

A few summers ago my family befriended some of the russian lifeguards who worked at my pool. They were here on a horrible work program that paid them $1 an hour. In any case, my dad and I took them on several US adventures and they came with us on a rafting trip to Harpers Ferry to tag along when the YW went rafting. At the end of the summer they went back to Russia and I've heard from them occasionally but not much. 

 I want to let you know that one of them stopped by the house yesterday, to let me know he was baptized about a year ago. He was so impressed with the kindness and happiness of all the church members he met that he followed up when he went home. 

 Anyway, this is a reminder that just being friendly and living happily is good missionary work. You never know how your good example may influence someone. 

 - E. W.

P.S. He got his hair cut ;)

The Lord truly works in mysterious ways. People are always watching and learning from us. Whether we intend to teach or not, we do. People notice how we act and we can inspire them to turn to Christ or away from Him.

What a beautiful reminder of the importance of being a good example!

On the Role of Women in the Plan of Salvation

By A. Winegar


I have been asked to speak today on the role of women in the plan of salvation – for up to ten whole minutes. Knowing how contentious that subject has become in the last few years, I was tempted to ask for something a bit less controversial, such as middle eastern politics or national health care policy. And the ten minute time for such an encompassing topic means that of necessity, I will be forced to hit just the highlights – meaning that I will be lucky if I manage to somehow not offend at least 30 percent of the congregation today.

What is the role of women in the plan of salvation? Quite simply, it is to ensure that at least one spouse stays awake during Sacrament Meeting.

But let’s start with some ground rules. First, this IS a tricky, potentially offensive subject. Mostly because it focuses on such a generality. It seems to place those of my gender into a certain box – a box that we don’t really want to be in, and that we feel deprives us of recognition for our individual experiences. No-one, man or woman, wants to feel like our bodies determine our choices. Especially that part of our bodies. I dye my hair to feel younger, I wear heels to look taller, I straightened my teeth with braces, and I wear makeup. I can modify just about every part of my body, but the part that makes me a woman is not something I can control. So to be judged and categorized by it is as annoying as being considered dumb because I am a blond – which, by the way, I was before my hair started going gray. No, no-one likes to feel that their choices are determined by their bodies.

Second, none of this brief chat is intended to in any way diminish the high honor and respect I have for the role of men in the plan of salvation. I believe that one of the greatest failings of our society is its inability to see the value that both men and women bring to relationships. Can anyone name a single popular TV show – or even a recent book – that depicts a loving marriage of righteous equals? I can’t. Ozzy and Harriet went off the air 50 years ago, but I remember watching it (obviously as a re-run) and enjoying the healthy family it depicted. I am sorry that youth of today don’t know Ozzy and Harriet – I suggest seeking them out on Netflix or wherever they might be hiding. So my second ground-rule is that I do not intend to imply that by fully appreciating the role of women, we need to knock men down.

Third, I think we must recognize how extraordinarily blessed we are that this question can even be seriously contemplated. It is a reflection of our prosperity and to an extent our narcissism that we have the opportunity to ask. The poor peasant woman of a thousand years ago, in between dealing with cattle, kids and marauding Viking hordes probably did not spend much time philosophizing in between handing her husband homemade bread and a sharpened sword. He had the sword, she made the bread. Case closed. Gender roles were pretty clear. Only now, when faced with so much confusion about gender do we assign people to talk about it in church.

And finally, I very much appreciate the sacred covenants of the temple upon which both the family of my birth and the family Brother Winegar and I have raised were built. I know that not everyone here has benefited from that strong foundation. Nevertheless, much of our role, according to the prophets, is bound to our participation in marriage and family..

Ground rules established. Have I offended anyone yet? Just checking to see if you’re listening. The role of women in the plan of salvation:

Women are gatekeepers. A few years ago, my mother and I had the privilege to sit with my grandma in a tiny little Utah hospital as she died. She had been briefly ill, and we knew her life was nearing the end. That night, my mother and I decided to stay with her when everyone else in the family left. She was not conscious, but we talked to her and told her how much we loved her and we prayed. About three in the morning I stepped out of the room for a moment and walked around the floor of the hospital. I realized that the other half of the same hospital floor was labor and delivery. Just a few feet from us there were women beginning the journey of motherhood, and there were a bunch of female nurses for both geriatrics where we were and the new babies.

As far as I could tell, there was not a man in the place, except for an old patient or two. It struck me that this is what we women do: we help people in and out of life. We hold our arms open for the new ones and we hold the hands of those who are leaving. Charles Dickens said of little children: It is not a small thing that they, who are so fresh from God, love us. We have the errand of angels, to stand at the very gates of life.

From wikipedia.

Women are teachers and mentors. The Proclamation on the Family cites as the primary duty of a woman to nurture her family. They say necessity is the mother of invention – but we all know that the vast majority of all real inventions are created by men. But we create the men! It is awesome to watch a child grow and develop and even surpass your hopes. Can you imagine how that great inventor
Thomas Edison would have felt if the light bulbs he invented grew and became brighter and then left the factory and started making even brighter light bulbs of their own? Such a thing is unthinkable. But that is what happens with our children. The joy and delight that parents feel when they see their children develop is beyond description. As is the humility we feel on those occasions when our children exercise their agency to make choices of which we disapprove.

Image from wikipedia.

Which brings me to one of those roles that many of us women really sink our teeth into. We are sandpaperers. We often see it as our duty to polish off those rough edges we see in others. Most often and most particularly we work on those guys we spend the most time with. Sandpapering can look a lot like nagging. I myself am guilty of sandpapering people in my family more often than I should, and I apologize. While I think encouraging good behavior is one of a woman’s roles, I do want to stress that the best polish is done with a very fine touch and with the smoothest of sandpaper. I think we all need to work on that.

Women are settlers. In general, we are drawn to the tasks that transform a house into a home. That change ingredients into dinner. We make sure the cupboards are full, and that all the outlets have those little plug covers to keep kids from electrocuting themselves. We teach children to climb down the stairs instead of fall. We show them how to brush their teeth without eating the toothpaste. We can reinforce the best actions and words of others. We nurture. We safeguard. 

We care.

I want to tell you about the third worst day of my life. And for those of you who are now wondering, yes, I do have a list. This day was February 17, 1994. It was a Thursday. Here is the backdrop. Four kids, the oldest was James; he was 7 and severely disabled. The youngest was Izzi, just about 1. Sam and Allie were 3 and 5 years old, and they were your typical little whirlwind children: into everything, wanting attention, amusement and sometimes food. We were totally broke. Steve was working a second job, I was working part-time at night. We were both constantly exhausted. We barely ever saw each other. It was a tough time.

James had needed surgery in December 1993 and my parents had come then to take Izzi back to live with them in Tennessee on the day after Christmas a few months earlier. That was a year of ice storms and they were in a massive multi-car accident which injured Izzi’s back. She had returned to our family by February, but she was not quite a year old and she spent a lot of time crawling around and crying because her back hurt. On the other hand, James’s surgery to address feeding problems had led to a lot of – to be delicate – very smelly and messy digestive problems for him. We had to feed him 3 ounces of formula and 3 ounces of water every hour. About 15 minutes of every hour was spent feeding him and then the next 45 minutes it seemed that it all came back out through one end or the other, leaving a lot of mess for me to clean. It was so bad that his special ed school would not let him come back, as it was not sanitary. We had asked for home visits for therapy, and the school system said we needed to be evaluated in-home by a professional to make sure we were not cheating the system, or alternatively, abusing James.

Pictures of James. The author's remarks from his funeral can be found here.

The selected educational psychologist had scheduled several visits, but had canceled them at the last minute because of the icy weather that he did not want to drive in. At last a deadline approached and he scheduled the appointment for February 18. I had been inspected before by county agencies – you can’t have a disabled kid who falls a lot and ends up needing medical attention a few times just about every single month without having some child services person checking you out. So in preparation for the visit, I set about to really clean the house the day before, Thursday, the 17th, and I was planning to get busy on the dishes from breakfast and the night before when there was a knock at the door. I opened the door and there was this little, old, scowling man standing there. Judgmentally. Not happy to be there.

“I’m Doctor Brown, here for the evaluation.”

“It’s for tomorrow—“ I tried to position myself in the doorway so he could not see the mess behind me.

“Really? I must have made a mistake.”

I prepared to close the door. “I’m so sorry, Doctor. So I’ll see you tomorrow.” I was thinking: Please go away.

But he didn’t. Instead he said, “But I’m here now. And you’re here, and I am presuming that your… uh, son… is here.” He was trying to look around me into the house. “So let’s get it over with. There might be another storm tomorrow. Better to get it done.” Arguing was not going to result in James getting the help he needed. So I opened the door and in came Dr. Brown.

Image here.

He swept his eyes around the townhouse. Toys, books, laundry, broken lamp, dirty dishes. Stack of work on the kitchen desk. Gooey floor. Crying baby. Squawking toddler. Mischievous kindergartner. And James, sitting in his high chair in the kitchen, partly dressed in an old sweatshirt and just a diaper because keeping him clean was so hard and I was doing the laundry.

Let us just say that it was not the picture of household harmony and bliss that I would have liked.

Dr. Brown was a scowler, and scowl he did.

The purpose of the visit was to determine if James really was handicapped and in need of services, if we were treating him properly, and if we were lying about anything. Dr. Brown told me he needed to ask James a bunch of questions and give James the chance to answer before I could answer. James was 7 years old. I told Dr. Brown that James did not talk and I would end up answering all the questions anyway. But Dr. Brown said those were the rules. He had to ask James every question first. He spread his papers out on the table and began his evaluation of James’s skill levels. PS: James’s skill levels were basically none.

It was about 9 in the morning. I had the laundry out, and some things began: Can James do this?, the answers switched from yes to no pretty quickly. Right around the review of 24-month skills and realizing that James could do basically nothing that your average two-year-old finds to be a total cinch, including swallowing, I was becoming rather sad. The interview alone was draining me – and it lasted for FOUR HOURS.

You must also remember that I had to feed James every hour and that then the food all came back out one way or the other. So there were four hours of depressing questions from a scowling judgmental man. In the middle of an incredibly messy house. Izzy dragging herself around my feet and crying. Allie popping in every few minutes to report that Sam had just twisted off Barbie’s arms, or that he had pulled out all the books from the shelf to build a freeway for his cars, or that he had thrown something at her, or that she really really needed help with an art project – Since you’re busy, you don’t mind if I paint flowers on the bathtub with nail polish and glitter, do you? That sort of thing. Izzy crying and dragging herself around. Gooey floor. Dishes. Depressing questions. Nasty smelly formula going into James. Nastier smellier stuff coming back out and getting all over the table and the chair and the floor and me. I sat between James and Dr. Brown at the table, and I fed and I wiped. I changed Izzy’s diaper once and James three times during this interview. James was actually not that much bigger than she was. I just lifted him down and did it right there on the floor in front of the doctor so that we could get the evaluation over with. Sam was not quite potty trained, so he stopped in for a change at some point. So four hours and five diapers. Scowling doctor. Crying. Mischief. Art projects. Laundry.

Depressing questions.

“We’re just about done with the interview portion,” Dr. Brown announced at about 1:10.

Portion?!? I thought. I can’t take much more of this. I was trying so hard to not break into tears from the emotion, the noise, the kids, the all of it. “What’s left?” I asked.

“I need to evaluate James’s physical abilities,” he said. Well, that shouldn’t take long, I thought.

James basically didn’t have any, especially right then.

“You said he can walk,” Dr. Brown said.

“Yes, he can. Not very fast, maybe, but he can.”

“I want to see that,” he said.

I think I shrugged a bit. James was so weak recovering from his surgery I was not sure if he would be able to do very much. But I lifted him out of his chair and stood him on the floor. The doctor had not really seen him standing yet. He was so thin. He weighed less than 40 pounds and he came to about my chest. I supported him and then started to let James adjust to standing so he wouldn’t just fall over. So I was facing James when there was this sploosh sound from below and the floor became even messier. Using one hand to support James’s chest, I grabbed a paper towel from where a roll sat on the kitchen table and I bent down to wipe at the sploosh and James threw up on my head.

“I’ve seen enough,” the doctor announced. He closed his files briskly like he was slamming them, but they were paper so no real sound. “I’ll be going.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what to say about all this. If you’d just waited until tomorrow…”

“Oh, James clearly qualifies for therapy. And as for you, well I have been very impressed with your patience and gentleness today. I am a bit surprised no-one has recommended YOU for therapy.”

He left. I had goo on my feet, and in my hair, and James was a mess and I had to take care of that, and then there was the rest of them. I couldn’t just leave the bunch of them and run to the shower for a detailed scrubbing. I rinsed my head in the kitchen sink. I did what I could to clean up and settle everyone down. At some point I just collapsed onto the laundry-covered couch and thought, What am I doing? What has happened to my life? What is to become of me?

And then I had a revelation.

What am I doing? I am proving that I want a celestial life. Because that is a life of service. Of putting yourself second. Of thinking of others’ needs before your own. Of fixing things that are broken. Of cleaning things that are dirty. Of helping the weak and teaching the strong. Of giving of yourself in every way. Of loving others who poop on you. Of understanding that sin is the greatest disability, because it keeps Heavenly Father’s children from progressing the way they should. This experience is helping me to learn the importance of physical bodies, of devotion, of selflessness, of obedience, of endurance. Those are the qualities of a celestial person. Celestial people do not quit.

What is the role of women in the plan of salvation? It is the same as the role of men: to work out our salvation in humility and righteousness before the Lord. But perhaps we girls have a little bit more. We have the opportunity to stand in the shadow of the Godhead in a way that men do not. Like our Heavenly Father, we are creators. We create our children and the very world they live in. For at least a few years of their lives, we know everything and can do anything. We are omnipotent to them.

Like Jesus, we are called to sacrifice. Sometimes that means sacrificing a lifetime of effort, but countless women have died bearing and protecting their children.

And finally, like the Holy Ghost, we are the comforters. We feed, and warm, and snuggle.

Remember when I said that we don’t like to think that our bodies determine our choices? Well, to a point they do. But more importantly, our choices determine our bodies and our future as children of our Heavenly Father.

I want to be a celestial person. I want to be a good daughter to my earthly father and my Heavenly Father. I want to be a good wife and mother. Those are the roles I have chosen. They are not easy. A lot of paper towels and Kleenex and prayer have been involved. I am grateful for the gospel in my life and for the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, which allows me to repent and progress and to build an eternal family. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Mothers’ Day Confession

By Lydia R. Gettys

Prepare for a confession.  

I spent several years of motherhood completely despising Mother’s Day.  If asked, I really couldn’t put my finger on what it was that upset me.  Now I know.

First, it seemed to me that one out of 365 days was too slim a time frame to command respect and appreciation.  Thankfully, my dear son recently clarified this as a perception problem on my part.  In the same way we don’t confine our reverence for the Savior to Christmas and Easter, a mother’s children honor her throughout the year, using Mother’s Day as a special excuse to celebrate her.  Well put, and I appreciate his sentiment very much.

Second, and more troubling, is that Mother’s Day tributes tend to honor perfect mothers.  And, um . . . , I’m not perfect.  Are you?  The resulting effect for me was a heavy burden of guilt for not measuring up.  Despite having a clear understanding of individual worth and the Lord’s mercy as we strive to improve, I was bamboozled by the image of The Perfect Mother.  Does she really exist?  Well, more on that later.

Instead of focusing on the image, I needed to shift my focus to the pattern.  Show me a beautiful dress, ask me to make it, and it won’t get done.  Hand me the pattern, and I can get to work.  See the difference?  I am grateful that in these latter days, the Lord has revealed His pattern for families.  He lovingly accepts that not everyone has all the pieces, but will help us in our efforts to follow His instructions.  I love that!  Here are some good talks on patterns from General Conferences: Home and Family: A Divine Eternal Pattern; A Pattern in All Things; Strengthen Home and Family.

We each have our own set of experience, temperament, and skills as we work out our patterns.  No two families will turn out the same, yet each will turn out beautifully in the end.  Over the years, I have developed a firm testimony that family members are put together for good reasons.  No matter how you came into your family, or the trials you may have endured there, the Lord had His purposes to plant you where you could best grow.  

The other week I asked a friend to picture if her sister could have been raised by her mother-in-law, or her sister-in-law by her own mother.  No!  That was not at all possible.

Each mother possesses just the mix of abilities that the Lord intends her child to benefit from.  So, in that way, we are each The Perfect Mother, despite our flaws.   Believe it! Embrace it!  Trust your instincts on how to nurture your children.  Your particular talents, ways to teach, temperament, world view, education, etc. are just what they need, quirks and all.

There is no point in comparing myself to the mother being idolized at the pulpit or the mother in the next pew.  She has her assignment, and I have mine to prayerfully fulfill.  We cannot fairly judge one another, and that’s fine, because that job is already taken by the One who loves us all.

This year I will allow myself, warts and all, to bask in the celebration of my favorite job - Motherhood!

Essays on Journeys Part 2: Getting the Assignment

By E. B.

I left my nanny position for many reasons, but essentially because I didn't like how I felt when I was in that house. The list could start and go on and on, but if I were to pinpoint one reason, right now, I would say it was whenever my boss would say, "but that's what nannying/children/the world/life is/are/do." None of those things are a reason I do anything, nor is it a reason I should do anything. So I left, with the hope that I could find something better. And for the record, ANYTHING pays better than that gig.

It started with a need. I had a material need of money. I had a little tiny bit of savings, and had been applying and interviewing for the next job. I'd really like to be able to settle. To be here. My days of chasing things behind me. Build a life. Have a family.

As the days of rejection rolled on, I began to realize I needed some help. With General Conference days away, I added this need to my prepared list of things I wanted an answer for. Did I believe a general authority was going to say where I should get a job? No. But I knew that if I didn't ask, I couldn't fault the Lord by not answering. I asked, hoping and expecting Him to give me something to work with.

After the Saturday sessions I had all my initial questions answered...except this money question. I finished the sessions hopeful that Sunday would bring more answers, and opened my email to find a rather random invitation from my aunt in California to come work for a resort nearby her home that she had noticed was hiring seasonal help. Was I interested? Of course I was. I wasn't so daft not to realize an answer to prayer.

I did a little digging and realized there was more leg work to this answer. My aunt didn't know more about the job(s) than what she had initially told me, and California is a really long way to go for not even a maybe seasonal position. I felt confused--not a stupor of thought confused. Just confused. So I went to the temple, and I felt reassured that California was my answer.

I sent of my resume and a great cover letter and prayed and hoped...and nothing. Meanwhile other, really great opportunities opened up here, and staying here and working and settling down makes sense. California, as right as it felt, just does not make sense.

Here's the thing: this is not my first rodeo. Nor is it the first time I have picked up and moved based on feeling like I should be elsewhere. While I have grown spiritually each time, and have come away with a clear understanding of what I gained in said move, it does not look good on paper, and it makes it really hard to find a decent paying job. It also makes it hard to have a stable, healthy relationship.

Here is another thing: When I was 19 and seeking direction, I received the first of many strongly worded blessings from a dear home teacher, advising me that even Abraham wandered before finding eternal life. That is not what a 19 year old wants to hear, and then, like now, leaving where I was and the plan I had, did not make sense.

I fasted, wanting to feel sure about it. Following the fast, the resort called back, wanting more information on my availability. Even then, without a job offer, it doesn't make sense to me. And I told the Lord that. I told him I wasn't going. I was going to stay and try to make this work. Because that makes sense to me.

He made things really hard really fast at that point. I was plunged into a little hell of my own making, to which I came out tired and sobbing and a red, puffy mess. And also significantly humbled and chastened. I decided I needed a blessing, and in my raw and bitter, maybe even still bleeding state, my bishop laid his hands on my head and gave the word-for-word direct order that I should go to California. And the special reminder that even Abraham wandered before finding eternal life.

So, off I go. To California. Because the Lord told me to. A new adventure awaits!

Find Part 1 of this essay here.

Essays on Journeys, Part 1: Basic Foundations

By E. B.

Recently, a close, loved one expressed to me the belief that the Lord does not tell us to do the same things He has asked those in the scriptures.

He does. In fact, He tells us almost the EXACT same things. Because the gospel does not change, and neither does His love and knowledge of us.

I find that this is a common belief, both among the religious and the nonreligious. While it is becoming less and less of a challenge for me to question the direction I receive from the Lord, I find that those around me, ranging from the very close to the very distant, struggle to believe I'm not completely insane. Or those who think I am truthful, wonder: why doesn't He talk to ME like that?

The Lord speaks to us as we would understand, and He gives it to us line upon line, precept upon precept. So, here is a list of base-work truths that need to be in place.

1. You have to be willing to ask Him. See James 1:5.

2. You have to believe He will answer. This is a little more complicated to understand, but our dear friend Elder Bednar sheds some light on how really do this in his April 2008 General Conference talk, "Ask in Faith."

3. He doesn't give us things to do that are beyond our capabilities, but a lot of those capabilities are dependent on restraints we have set on our selves. The Lord is not limited to what we say He is, but we are limited when we limit our faith. He doesn't need you to do what He wants, but it is a blessing for you to get a special part in His great big plan---even if that role is not what we consider big or special. You limit yourself when you say no, or when you say it cannot be done.

Tip to the wise: Don't be rude to someone you are asking things from. That is just logic and common sense. Also, note that pain and anger, especially during trials, are understandable--and I would expect the Lord understands who will have what reactions to what life brings. However, He absolutely does not tolerate rebellion.

I say all of this because I am about to embark on a journey that does not necessarily have an end, that began with a question about money. I prayed about it, and while I prepared for this year's April General Conference, I threw it on the list of things I expected/hoped/wanted to get from the meeting.  I am going to California...for the summer...I think. None of it makes a ton of sense, and I don't actually have all the pieces of what the plan is. But because I know, without a doubt that I am embarking to California on a journey of which the Lord is sending me, I go.

For anyone who really wants the exact details, see my next post, entitled "Essays on Journeys, Part 2: The Assignment."

Jesus blessed the people one by one.

By A. D.

This past weekend was General Conference, a meeting held every six months during which the modern prophet and twelve apostles--along with other church authorities, such as members of the quorums of seventy--address the world and testify of the divinity, love, and mission of Jesus Christ.

Elder Carlos H. Amado testified of Christ in this beautiful talk, Christ the Redeemer. From the talk (emphasis mine):

From lds.org.

Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was born and died in unique circumstances. He lived and grew up in humble conditions, without material things. He said of Himself, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head” (Luke 9:58). 

He never received honors, favors, recognition, nor preferred treatment from the political leaders of the earth or from the religious leaders of His day. Neither did He sit in the highest seats of the synagogues. 

His preaching was simple, and even though multitudes followed after Him, His ministry always consisted of blessing people one by one. He performed innumerable miracles among those who accepted Him as the One sent from God.

 That one line in particular stood out to me. Jesus was followed by thousands but in the end He blessed the people one by one. Jesus manages to be there for everyone in the world, for the multitudes, and yet still minister to each of us on a deeply, deeply personal level.

I know for myself that this is true. As I have kept the commandments, I have begun to learn what it means to have Jesus as a friend. I have felt His love for me and I know that He ministers to me personally--even as He ministers to you personally and to all of us personally as we invite Him into our hearts, so that He can change our hearts.

Elder Amado's talk is a beautiful overview of Christ's life and mission. He concludes with this testimony:

I testify that Christ will return in a way very different from His first coming. He will come in power and glory with all the just and faithful Saints. He will come as King of kings and Lord of lords, as the Prince of Peace, the promised Messiah, the Savior and Redeemer, to judge the living and the dead. I love and serve Him with all my heart, and I plead that we may serve with joy and dedication and that we may remain faithful to Him until the end. In His name, Jesus Christ, amen.

I also know that Jesus is our Savior and Redeemer, and that He will return to us some day in power and glory. We are so blessed to live at a time when the fullness of His Gospel has been restored!

My grandmother's faith was beautifully simple and simply beautiful.

By M.A.

I learned prayer from my maternal grandmother.

My grandmother had a 6th grade education, never left her birthplace, had a wonderful family, survived the great depression, a world war, and had gone blind in her early 20s. I was in my teens before I realized she was blind. I knew she could not see, but regarding her as blind, a word I associated with disability, never occurred to me. After all, she cooked the meals, sang songs, and ran the family budget. I asked her once why she handled the money instead of Grandpap. She laughed and said, "if he managed the money we would never have a savings." Then she gave me a lesson in mental math since of course she had no paper accounts.

I had the privilege of being her biographer and learning how she accomplished this with such grace. The answer was prayer. She prayed for a minimum of one hour a day, on her knees, her entire adult life. During those prayers she asked the Lord how to do what needed done.

She prayed and put out a stove fire before the fire department arrived.

She prayed and knew when her child needed a doctor.

She prayed and was a beloved wife.

She prayed and became an excellent cook.

In her mid-90’s, her son heard her moving about during the night. She was kneeling beside the bed at 4:00 am. Her son asked why she was up so early. She replied, "I thought it was morning so I was beginning my day." Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, family, and friends all learned to ask Grandma to pray for them. She prayed for us by name and often called to tell us the results of her prayers. She had a direct line to Heaven and shared it with anyone in need. When she died I felt a measure of virtue leave my life.

Her testimony was as an apostle has summarized: the gospel of Jesus Christ is beautifully simple and simply beautiful.

To me, science and religion are like a living soul.

By M. A.

The first time I weighed an electron I had tears in my eyes.

I had tears when I saw my first cell and first beating heart.

In today’s world many people think that science and religion are opposing forces with each set on destroying the other. To me, science and religion are like a living soul. The soul of man is defined by the Lord as the union of spirit and body. When viewed together, science (the temporal) and religion (the spiritual) help us understand the soul of God. The Lord has created all things both spiritual and temporal and we are told that the temporal is in the likeness of the spiritual.

When I weighed the electron I glimpsed one of the fundamental units of creation. When I saw my first human cell I saw the fundamental unit of human life and I was awed at its complexity.

As Pres. Kimball once said, we are truly Gods in embryo. My first beating heart humbled me with it perfection. I remembered that the Savior has commanded us to become as perfect and to learn of Him. For me, science and religion are woven together so tightly that each tells the story of the other.

To weigh an electron is to glimpse the infinite intelligence of our Creator.

To hold a newborn, whose beginning was a single cell, is to learn the purpose of God in giving us eternal families.

And to sit quietly, while holding the hand of a beloved family member when the heart stops beating, is to see the Face of God.

God helped my 12-year-old find his iPod

By A. W.

One day my 12-year-old son was walking through the house looking for something. Opening and closing cabinets, picking up sofa cushions. Going in and out of the garage.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“My iPod,” he said.

“Did you pray about it?”

“Yeah, right,” he grumped and moved into the other room.

A while later he returned and repeated the seeking maneuvers: cushions up and down, rug lifted and replaced, drawers opened and shut.

“Still haven’t found it? Why don’t you pray about it?”

“No and no. Heavenly Father does not care if I find my iPod.”

I answered: “You’re right. Heavenly Father does not care if you find your iPod. But He does very much care about whether or not you’re happy. And He also appreciates chances to show you that He answers prayers.”

“Well, I’m not going to.”

“Okay, it’s your choice.”

Over the next few hours the door slamming and drawer shutting continued. The school backpack was emptied and repacked. The trash can was emptied and re-filled. The coat closet was turned inside out and reloaded. The iPod was not to be found. The seeker’s grumpiness increased.

“Do me a favor,” I asked. “Please, just go pray about it. You have already spent hours looking. Why not spend five minutes asking for help?”

“Fine,” he agreed at last and trudged up the stairs to his room. Six minutes later, he returned, iPod in hand.

“You found it!” I exclaimed. “Did you even have a chance to say your prayer?”

He sat down sheepishly. “I knelt down at my bed and bowed my head and from there I could see it jammed behind the bed. That is the only place I could have seen it.”

“So you didn’t pray after all?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered, “I did. I wanted to tell Him thank you for His help.”

Image from lds.org.

Ask and it shall be given unto you; Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you:

For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be 

opened.

- Matthew 7: 7-8

Joy is available to us right now.

By Christian P.

I was listening to NPR the other day and there was a piece about research that had been done on the effects of parenting on parents. As parents, we often talk about the happiness that our children bring us. Yet, this research had failed to find any greater levels of happiness among people with children versus those without. The article goes on to describe a book that explains this phenomenon with the concept that the ‘category’ of happiness parents feel about their children is better described as ‘joy’. “That [feeling] you're feeling when your kid laughs or when your kid says something that's so totally, like, amazingly weird, or insightful, or sensitive — it's not the same as like getting a good laugh out of watching a movie or having a really nice time with a friend.” 

This jives up with my experiences pretty well. I love having my children in my life but I can’t say as that I enjoy every minute of it. There is a lot of time that is tedious, aggravating or frustrating whether it be asking them to get dressed for the 45th time or sweeping up the broken crystal statue of the Washington DC temple that was our wedding cake topper that one of them decided to throw across the room. Yet, I can’t think of anything that I love more than those maniacs or anything that has changed me more for the better.

One of the things we bang on pretty hard as Mormons is the idea that Heavenly Father wants us to be happy. He gives us commandments because He wants to teach us how to be happy, He blesses us because He wants us to be happy, He sent His son Jesus Christ to show us how to be happy. Yet, when I look in the scriptures, I can’t find a reference to our Heavenly Father promising us happiness in his life. There is a lot of talk in the Book of Mormon about the great plan of happiness but it seems to only promise happiness in the next life. Alma promises us:

Alma 40:12 And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow.

Mormon and Mosiah make similar promises concerning a never-ending happiness awaiting those who are faithful. What I do see is a lot of talk about this word ‘joy’.

2 Nephi 2: 25 Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.

John 15:11 These things  have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full.

Alma 26:11 ...I do not boast in my own strength, nor in my own wisdom; but behold, my joy is full, yea, my heart is brim with joy, and I will rejoice in my God.

The lesson I’m learning is that despite how difficult day to life might be for each of us, despite our own individual trials and challenges, the satisfaction and deep contentment that we call joy is available to us right now. Not everything works out for my immediate enjoyment but I have found enough joy in both family service and church service to bolster my trust in the Lord and know that Heavenly Father really does want me to have joy.

Jessica Simpson explains a gospel truth

By A. W.

I really have not ever understood why Jessica Simpson is a celebrity, but she is and the other day I watched her in a commercial where she stated:

I love this body and what it is capable of.
This body made two amazing little human beings.
This version feels really good.

“I love this body and what it is capable of.” We are taught that we come to earth so to gain a physical body. We understand that this mortal experience is the path to divinity; that the promise of resurrection lies before us because of our Savior’s sacrifice. I, too, love this body and what it is capable of.

Image courtesy of lds.org.

“This body made two amazing little human beings.” The blessing of motherhood is beyond description. I am so grateful for the opportunity to help build bodies for sons and daughters, and then to build a family with them. The promise of an eternal family inspires me to be a better mother and a better person.

“This version feels really good.” Each of us has several versions of ourselves. Some versions of me are not very good; some are incredibly awesome. My choices determine what version of body I have and what version I am working for. The best version of me is the one where I have followed the commandments, and treated my body the way Heavenly Father wants me to.

The gospel has taught me to take particular care of my body, because it is the physical temple of my spirit. Our health code, “The Word of Wisdom”, guides me when making choices about how and what to eat, and about keeping my body fit and healthy. For example, while scientists debate whether or not red wine is good for you, I know that the best thing for me will be obedience to my Heavenly Father who has instructed me not to drink wine. I know that I have been blessed to heal quickly and recover well from the various illnesses and injuries that I have had, in part because I obey the Word of Wisdom. I have also promised to dress modestly, in order to demonstrate that I respect the sacred character of my body. I know that commitment has also blessed me with health and strength that I would not otherwise have had. I am grateful to Jessica Simpson for reminding me of the precious gift of my body. I am grateful to my Heavenly Father for providing guidance and blessings in caring for my body during my time here on earth.

Knoweth ye not that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?

- 1 Corinthians 3:17

"We are often amazed at how much Heavenly Father cares for us and wants us to be happy."

By Nayeli J. 

Whenever we have to make big important decisions, who do we turn to?  Who is always there to guide us if we want it?  

As a military family and parents of two with one on the way, we have had to make many important decisions in our life.  We are aware that the decisions we make could potentially make a big difference on the experiences that our family has, and ultimately on who we become.

Image from lds.org.

We always turn to the Lord in prayer, fasting, scripture study and also being sure to do our part (such as researching, talking to people with experience in that field, serving others, and renewing our covenants by partaking of the sacrament).

Our first move from out of college, was from Utah to Maryland, across the country.  As we looked for housing we enthusiastically and with faith included Heavenly Father in our decision making and tried our best to listen for guidance from Him through the Holy Ghost.

After much researching and talking to some students that had gone before us to this Medical School on base (USUHS), my husband flew out to find housing.  Taking lots of pictures and communicating with me over the phone, we felt that we should move to Germantown (about 20-30 min) north from the school.  Even though the commute would be longer than it could have been if we moved closer like most of my husband's colleagues we felt this was where we should be.  We only have one car, so my husband would have to take public transportation to leave me the car.

We knew that it was best for us to move here for a reason, but we weren't exactly clear on what that reason was.  We would be here for four years and we would make the best of it!  As we started our first year, I got to meet a group of LDS mothers whose husbands were in the same year and situation we were in.  They all lived pretty close to each other and a lot closer to the school. I was able to attend a couple of their get-togethers and they were great.  I desired to be a part of their group, however, the distance became an issue.  There was also a spouses and sweethearts club at the school for the wives of those in the military to support each other and attend activities.  We joined and attended a couple of times, but then as I became pregnant with my second child, it became increasingly difficult to be a part of.  I often wondered why we had felt that this was the best place for us live...

However, during this time, we started to make friendships in our church ward and also in our neighborhood.  The housing complex where we lived was away from traffic and looked over a large hill and artificial lake.  It allowed me to take my kids on exploration walks, to different parks at just a short distance and to enjoy swimming at our wonderful pool was just across the parking lot.  My husband and I joined the gym just a couple of blocks from where we lived and I have made great friendships there as well!  We have had many opportunities to share our testimony and what we believe in with people in our neighborhood like we had never imagined!  We have had so many opportunities to serve and be served by our neighbors and those around us. The callings we have received at church have really strengthened our testimony of Jesus Christ our Savior and our desire to do good.  We have received so much support from the members in our church as my husband has had to travel extensively his 3rd year in school.

 I personally have greatly enjoyed making friendships with the other mothers in the ward and have learned so much from their phenomenal example as righteous women.  As we begin to make plans for our next move, we know that this was the absolute perfect house and location for us at this time!  We are often amazed at how much Heavenly Father cares for us and wants us to be happy. Heavenly Father truly is there for us and if we strive to receive his guidance through the companionship of the Holy Ghost as we make life-changing decisions He will bless us.

Trust ye in the Lord forever: For in the Lord JEHOVAH is everlasting strength. 

- Isaiah 26:4 

What the 2014 Olympic Figure Skating Taught Me About The Gospel

By A. W.

The 2014 Winter Olympics have just ended, and I very much enjoyed the figure skating competitions. This year, there was apparently some controversy when a more experienced skater, Kim Yu-na, won a silver medal while a skater from Russia, Adelina Sotnikova, won the gold. Several commentators were clear that Yu-na was the better skater – so why did Adelina win? Because she selected a more difficult program and skated it well. Not perfectly, but well. 

Yu-na set her goals lower, and while she accomplished them, her program was not as challenging as Adelina’s. Each woman decided what elements she would strive for, and Yu-na did not aim as high as Adelina.

High standards make us stand out. Image from lds.org. 

This was a reminder to me about the importance of setting high standards for myself, and of course, high standards can be challenging. As an example, a number of years ago, our church leaders asked families to set the goal of reading the scriptures to or with their children; we were promised that if we would do so, our children would learn to love the scriptures. Not scripture stories, but the actual scriptures themselves, with the actual King James wording. And not watching animated movies, but really reading them together. My children were very young, but I decided to work toward accomplishing the goal of reading the scriptures with them. In addition to reading Green Eggs and Ham and other childhood classics, we started with the Old Testament.

I have to admit there were days when it was a difficult slog. With my work schedule, there was not a consistent time to do reading, so sometimes we read in the car, and sometimes over breakfast. We decided to do one chapter a day, and some chapters are very long! But some are also very exciting and there were times when we read more than one chapter to finish a great story. We often had to stop while we were reading to explain difficult concepts and hard words. To my astonishment, my young children learned words like “Abrahamic” and “covenant” and “sacrifice.” We talked about symbols and sins and miracles. We talked about how people in the Bible had the same problems and fears that we have. When we shivered through storms and visited beautiful gardens, we talked about rainbows and other gardens long ago, and what those mean to us in our lives today. And many years later, I am happy to report that my children did truly learn to love the scriptures and have stayed close to the gospel. I think the many hours we spent together reading and talking about how the scriptures apply to our own lives brought us closer together as a family. I think we have been better prepared to face challenges after considering the challenges faced by Moses, Abraham, Daniel and so many other great people.

Working through the scriptures with my little children was a challenging goal. It was often hard to do, but it taught me that while I may not always accomplish a challenging goal perfectly, I certainly will not succeed if I settle for lower standards that might be easier to meet, but that will not permit me to grow into the person that my Heavenly Father wants me to be.

And I will bring [them] through the fire, and will refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tried: they shall call on my name and I will hear them: I will say, It is my people: and they shall say, The Lord is my God.

- Zechariah 13:9

We met as strangers and parted as friends.

By Melissa K.

“And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom, 

that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings

 ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).

One of my best friends passed away on February 22, 2014. The month of February marked the five year anniversary of our friendship.

My friend Bill was one of my dearest friends. He was not my age. In fact, he was 30 years older than me. He was 76. 

Five years ago, a woman in the ward emailed the Relief Society asking if anyone would be interested in doing some housekeeping for her neighbor, Bill, who was elderly. She gave his contact info and said to contact him directly if interested.  I was in need of earning some extra money, so I called Bill. We chatted briefly, agreed on a date and time to meet and talked about payment.

Early one Saturday morning I arrived at Bill's home. I was in a foul mood and dreading the appointment, and I was irritated that I had to get up early on a Saturday morning.  I almost cancelled the appointment, but decided not to.

Bill and I sat in the kitchen as we introduced ourselves and he explained what he wanted me to clean.  He first asked me to clean the freezer.  I proceeded to clean the freezer and I assumed Bill was going to go do something else and leave me to my cleaning. But, no. He sat there in the kitchen. I remember thinking, "Oh, my word. He's going to sit here the whole time and now I have to make conversation with him. What could we possibly have to talk about? We are 30 years apart." Bill started to ask me questions, such as if I was married, if I had kids, etc. I answered his questions, and then I asked him if he had children. He learned that I had two growing children, and I learned that he had three grown children. Our conversation kept going as I was cleaning the freezer.  Before I knew it, the freezer was cleaned and two hours had passed by, and much to my amazement, Bill and I were still talking and having a marvelous time. A friendship had been born. We were talking like we had been friends for years, and I left his house smiling at what had transpired in three hours. We met as strangers and parted as friends.

After that first meeting, I held regular Saturday morning appointments with Bill to clean, organize, do laundry, and grocery shop for him. I no longer dreaded our appointments. I rather looked forward to them. Sometimes I would arrive and we would talk for two hours and then I would clean.  After awhile my heart started to change. It became full of love, and my helping Bill was no longer about the money, which I still needed, but that was not what motivated me to go see him. It became a joy to help and serve not only an elderly person, but my friend.  We had a very deep and special friendship. He was old enough to be my father, but that's not how he treated me. And, I didn't treat him like a father.  The gap in our age difference did not matter, and perhaps really doesn't matter when it comes to friendship and serving others.

Heavenly Father knew what he was doing when He put Bill in my life.  I never thought of myself as a selfish person, but when I met Bill my attitude was negative and all about me. Over the last five years I am the one who has learned the most through serving my friend Bill. I learned to put aside what I was dealing with and to be of service to this man who needed help.  I also learned that it's not all about me. And, my heart has become softened and full of compassion for others, and I love to serve! It brings me such great joy.

When I met Bill I knew he was on borrowed time. He was not well, and in the last two years his health had taken a turn for the worse. And, I knew that his life would end sooner rather than later.  I drove to Bill's house on Saturday when I found out that he had died. I wanted to say goodbye to my friend. He was in his room.  I sat with him for a few moments and caressed his arm.  I thought about the five years we had together, the service I provided, and the friendship that occurred in that time. And, I can smile. I love my friend deeply, and will miss him. But I know that the service and friendship I provided to him increased his quality of life, and made his last years more comfortable. And my life has definitely been enriched as well because of this man. 

image from lds.org

Bill was funny. And, whenever I would ask if I had cleaned this or that to his specification, his answer was always, "It's good enough for Gaithersburg." And we would both burst out laughing. I will always cherish the time I had with this man, my friend, Bill, and the things I have learned through service.

I now clean for another elderly person, a woman, and it has been fun helping her, and getting to know her better. I look forward to our visits. I am glad that I can be of service to her, and I'm sure that I will continue to learn and grow as I serve others. Will another friendship develop? We will have to wait and see.

How has service brought you closer to others? How have you been blessed while you serve?