I was serving in a familiar temple and had been assigned as an escort to the Ramirez family. It consisted of a mother and her five children. The mother had come to the temple that day to make sacred covenants. Her children had already made those covenants and had come to be proxy for their kindred dead. All had come to rejoice.
Because of the state of the world, additional safety protocols had been put in place at the temple to protect all that came. To a handicapped person, those increased protocols could be demanding.
The Ramirez family had such a handicapped person. She was a young woman who looked to be in her 20’s. She was small, but beautiful with her dark hair and sparkling eyes.
As I led the family back to the records area to begin the protocol there were 5 steps that we needed to climb. To my surprise there was no ramp for the wheelchair. My eyes searched for some of the brethren to come and help me. I found only two available and they both shook their heads and cited back problems that prevented them from being of assistance.
I determined that I could simply pull the wheel chair up the stairs and I began to tug at it. Try as I might I could not pull the wheel chair up. I eased the chair back to the floor. The young woman tried to stand, holding on to the railing. She thought that with help on both sides she could be assisted up the stairs. Her strength also failed and she crumpled to the floor.
It seemed that all the years of feeling she was a burden rested upon her heart and she could not so much as lift her head. All in the temple seemed to be frozen in time. My heart ached for her and I felt ashamed that I had caused this harm to her heart.
Kneeling beside her, I knew that I had to help. Carefully I slipped my arms beneath her small body and struggled to my feet. With strength beyond my own I carefully mounted each step. In my arms the woman continued to sob. She felt humiliation at a 60 year old woman carrying her.
Quietly, I asked her a question. “If you were resting within the Savior’s arms would you want to leave them? Would you feel yourself a burden?”
After a moment the sobbing stilled and she looked up at me. “I would want to remain in his arms forever.”
Looking into her beautiful dark eyes, glistening with tears, I said, “Then consider yourself in His arms and consider the love that you feel right now, His love. You are not a burden.”
When I awoke, the dream was still vivid in my mind and I hit the replay button over and over again. I wondered what I was to learn from this dream.
Did I learn that nothing is impossible with the Lord’s grace, his added strength? Did I learn that sometimes our arms are His arms?
Did I learn that hearts can be healed with increased love? Perhaps I learned that we are all handicapped in some way. We are born handicapped, each of us. We are born into this world with an inability to save ourselves and at sometime in our life, we too, will feel a heaviness of being a burden.
Perhaps the dream taught me that each of us must be willing to be nestled in the Savior’s arms and open our hearts to his love. Only He has the strength to lift us up.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
A Christmas Long Ago
Our family had a tradition of taking a long winter walk on Christmas Eve regardless of what the weather was like. Anxiously we would wait for the appointed hour when the world had quieted, the cars stopped racing and people were settled into their beds. The world looks different in the middle of the night. There is a silence that seems to permeate through the layers of clothing into the heart and the frantic pace of day gives way.
On this particular Christmas Eve, it was snowing heavily and we all suited up to begin our trek. We pulled on moon boots, heavy coats, knit caps and gloves and then waddled out the front door into the snow. It was beautiful and we were happy to be part of it.
The street lights cast a golden glow on the freshly fallen snow and ice crystals glittered as they floated in the air. It was like being in a fairy land and we were stepping into an adventure. The cherry tree in our front yard glittered and sparkled and the smaller twigs seemed to form spider webs of snow.
Since all the cars had been put in garages, we were safe to walk in the middle of the road and our energetic boys made good use of the opportunity. Beneath the snow was a solid sheet of ice and the boys were joyously running and sliding, puffing up clouds of fresh powder as they went. Mark and I held hands and lifted our faces so that the snow could lightly fall upon us.
Each house had left their Christmas lights on which added to our fairy land scene.
After the boys had run out of energy, the four of us just kept walking through the sub-division and after some miles, my husband felt like he wanted to turn back. Our younger son was ready to go with him, but my oldest Son and I weren’t ready to let the enchanted time go yet. We walked on together in companionable silence. Every once in a while my Son would throw a snowball at me and laugh.
As I watched him play, my mind turned to a babe in a manager, and another mother. I wondered what her thoughts were on that special night. Did she realize that her first born would also be her Savior? Did she notice the star in the sky and what did she feel when the shepherds came and stood in silence? What did she know about Heavenly Father that the rest of us just guess at?
I looked at my first born playing in the snow. I wondered what kind of man he would grow to be. I knew he was intelligent. I knew he had lots of energy. I also knew he struggled to know his own worth.
Two mothers, with thousands of years separating them, pondered over their sons.
Soon, my son came and took my hand. “Thanks for walking with me, Mom”, he whispered.
“No, Son, thank you for walking with me. I love you.”
Two mothers, with thousands of years separating them, had their hearts filled with the joy of a son.
On this particular Christmas Eve, it was snowing heavily and we all suited up to begin our trek. We pulled on moon boots, heavy coats, knit caps and gloves and then waddled out the front door into the snow. It was beautiful and we were happy to be part of it.
The street lights cast a golden glow on the freshly fallen snow and ice crystals glittered as they floated in the air. It was like being in a fairy land and we were stepping into an adventure. The cherry tree in our front yard glittered and sparkled and the smaller twigs seemed to form spider webs of snow.
Since all the cars had been put in garages, we were safe to walk in the middle of the road and our energetic boys made good use of the opportunity. Beneath the snow was a solid sheet of ice and the boys were joyously running and sliding, puffing up clouds of fresh powder as they went. Mark and I held hands and lifted our faces so that the snow could lightly fall upon us.
Each house had left their Christmas lights on which added to our fairy land scene.
After the boys had run out of energy, the four of us just kept walking through the sub-division and after some miles, my husband felt like he wanted to turn back. Our younger son was ready to go with him, but my oldest Son and I weren’t ready to let the enchanted time go yet. We walked on together in companionable silence. Every once in a while my Son would throw a snowball at me and laugh.
As I watched him play, my mind turned to a babe in a manager, and another mother. I wondered what her thoughts were on that special night. Did she realize that her first born would also be her Savior? Did she notice the star in the sky and what did she feel when the shepherds came and stood in silence? What did she know about Heavenly Father that the rest of us just guess at?
I looked at my first born playing in the snow. I wondered what kind of man he would grow to be. I knew he was intelligent. I knew he had lots of energy. I also knew he struggled to know his own worth.
Two mothers, with thousands of years separating them, pondered over their sons.
Soon, my son came and took my hand. “Thanks for walking with me, Mom”, he whispered.
“No, Son, thank you for walking with me. I love you.”
Two mothers, with thousands of years separating them, had their hearts filled with the joy of a son.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Towards the Promised Land
Some years ago I had the opportunity to serve a part-time mission on Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah. The service was to usher and to help people feel comfortable at all the events that took place in the Tabernacle and in the Conference Center.
On one particular Saturday evening, there was an event for a large gathering of women. They came by the thousands and I had a bird’s eye view. I noticed those that were young and beautiful and their excitement spilled out and around every one near them. Others were herding their daughters in the right direction and trying to feel as energized at they were.
There were the single women who came in groups and looked longingly at the mothers herding their little flocks and questions about God’s plan for them seemed to pass across their faces.
Included in the surging crowd were the halt, the lame and the blind. There were those who showed devastating illnesses that had obviously taken a toll. Some had on hats to cover the results of chemotherapy while others came without legs, hands or arms.
There were those in wheel chairs, canes and walkers. Some had to rely on the seeing eyes of another to guide them through the crowds. There seemed to be a ‘feeling’ of burdens pressing down and the weight almost seemed too much to bear.
I thought of all these ‘sisters’ and the trials they had endured or that they would endure in their lives. I loved them, every one of them, even though I didn’t know them. I loved the example they set for me.
After the meeting came to an end, I again had my bird’s eye view. The crowds surged through the doors rushing to get on their way, but now, something was different. Those that had seemed so weary were now stronger. Those that had been questioning Gods plan for them were determined to accept his will. Somehow the burdens they each had carried into the meeting were adjusted, rearranged and re-seated upon their shoulders so they could carry them with ease. It was a miracle. It was almost as if I could see the Savior stepping beside them and sharing the load they carried. This miracle happened because a prophet had spoken and they had listened.
“Whether by my voice or the voice of my servant…it is the same”.
Many times since that day I have reflected upon the ‘wildernesses’ of each of our lives and what the Lord is trying to accomplish. In the scriptures, people were often driven out into the unknown to walk toward a promised land. Each time the Lord asks people to go to a promised land, he also asks us to leave something behind. It might be a land or country we love, or friendships we cherish. Sometimes we may have to leave behind jobs, our homes, family and a familiar way of life. It seems he always asks us to leave behind pride, worldliness and sin. He is wise in his asking. It is when we unburden ourselves that we have the greater capacity to make those demanding steps towards the Promised Land.
The ‘wilderness’ is surging around and through my own life right now. I’ve been required to leave things behind, some of them very dear. The Lord has assured me there is a promised land and even though I cannot see it clearly, I believe him.
“And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee…in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep his commandments, or no.
Deuteronomy 8:2
On one particular Saturday evening, there was an event for a large gathering of women. They came by the thousands and I had a bird’s eye view. I noticed those that were young and beautiful and their excitement spilled out and around every one near them. Others were herding their daughters in the right direction and trying to feel as energized at they were.
There were the single women who came in groups and looked longingly at the mothers herding their little flocks and questions about God’s plan for them seemed to pass across their faces.
Included in the surging crowd were the halt, the lame and the blind. There were those who showed devastating illnesses that had obviously taken a toll. Some had on hats to cover the results of chemotherapy while others came without legs, hands or arms.
There were those in wheel chairs, canes and walkers. Some had to rely on the seeing eyes of another to guide them through the crowds. There seemed to be a ‘feeling’ of burdens pressing down and the weight almost seemed too much to bear.
I thought of all these ‘sisters’ and the trials they had endured or that they would endure in their lives. I loved them, every one of them, even though I didn’t know them. I loved the example they set for me.
After the meeting came to an end, I again had my bird’s eye view. The crowds surged through the doors rushing to get on their way, but now, something was different. Those that had seemed so weary were now stronger. Those that had been questioning Gods plan for them were determined to accept his will. Somehow the burdens they each had carried into the meeting were adjusted, rearranged and re-seated upon their shoulders so they could carry them with ease. It was a miracle. It was almost as if I could see the Savior stepping beside them and sharing the load they carried. This miracle happened because a prophet had spoken and they had listened.
“Whether by my voice or the voice of my servant…it is the same”.
Many times since that day I have reflected upon the ‘wildernesses’ of each of our lives and what the Lord is trying to accomplish. In the scriptures, people were often driven out into the unknown to walk toward a promised land. Each time the Lord asks people to go to a promised land, he also asks us to leave something behind. It might be a land or country we love, or friendships we cherish. Sometimes we may have to leave behind jobs, our homes, family and a familiar way of life. It seems he always asks us to leave behind pride, worldliness and sin. He is wise in his asking. It is when we unburden ourselves that we have the greater capacity to make those demanding steps towards the Promised Land.
The ‘wilderness’ is surging around and through my own life right now. I’ve been required to leave things behind, some of them very dear. The Lord has assured me there is a promised land and even though I cannot see it clearly, I believe him.
“And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee…in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know what was in thine heart, whether thou wouldest keep his commandments, or no.
Deuteronomy 8:2
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Gifts
It’s the season where brightly wrapped presents and gifts are on everyone’s minds and the planning of holiday festivities. Some are planning long ‘night-before-black’ Friday vigils while others are making remodeling plans to accommodate the 50 people invited for those festivities.
This year, my family made a choice to forget the frenzy and just be together as a family. We don’t often get to see one another anymore so it is the very best kind of a present. We are also forgetting the large Christmas centered meals, and opting for a simple lunch time together on a Sabbath Day. It will be a simple time of rest and enjoying the thoughts of one another.
This change has taken my mind to other kinds of gifts that are given by a loving Father in Heaven. These gifts are called ‘gifts of the spirit’. They may be called the gift of loving kindness and charity as well as the gift of personal revelation and answered prayers. The gift of temperance and discernment also come to mind as well as the gift of humility, happiness and hope.
One of the differences between the worldly gifts and those given by our Father in Heaven is that we cannot purchase them. We must ask for them, and then we have to be willing to invest time into developing the gifts.
For some months now, I have been petitioning my Father in Heaven for the gift of a repentant heart. I want to immediately recognize when I have made an error and offended him. I want to immediately fall to my knees and beg his forgiveness and talk to him about a plan to overcome. It is critical to me to obtain and keep the gift of a repentant heart.
Along with obtaining the gift of a repentant heart will naturally be given the gift of forgiveness. These two gifts are never without one another because of the nature of God. He desires to forgive us more than we understand and the gift of forgiveness is quick to be given. In God’s economy it is a ‘best value’ gift.
As I was pondering these gifts last night, in a sacred place, I realized that I had left out a critical gift that goes hand in hand with these two. I began to plead for the gift of a forgiving heart. It is a trio, you see. We cannot obtain the gift of forgiveness unless we repent and unless we forgive others.
It is interesting, isn’t it, that when you are praying to overcome something or you are praying for a special gift from God, he almost always puts you in a situation where you are ‘tested’ to see how intent you are on obtaining the gift. That is exactly what happened to me.
I found myself in a large group of people. If you knew me, you would know that I don’t particularly like being in a large press of people. Because of that I opted to be at the very back seat of this group. The lady in charge of the group, however, had a different idea. She wanted me in the front and directed me to move forward.
I kindly asked if I could sit in the back. With a frown on her face, she nodded, and I settled in for a quiet time. We soon needed to move to another room, and I again lagged behind to sit on the back row. I immediately found myself confronted again. This time she was more adamant about me moving forward. I explained that I would rather not but she was not satisfied with that answer. She took a hold of my hand and began to tug me forward. I hung back and it became an embarrassing situation. I pulled back and sat down on the back row. Again, she scowled at me and was clearly upset that I had questioned her authority. I was upset that she would make a spectacle of me.
I felt bad that my reverent, quiet time had been intruded upon by someone who clearly had an ‘authority’ issue. I fumed for a few minutes more, then my mind turned to the gifs that I had been praying for. A repentant heart….I needed to clearly recognize my error in this matter. It didn’t take me long to realize that I should have been more submissive and obedient. That recognition provided the catalyst for me to look at myself more closely. It helped me to humble myself enough to beg forgiveness and it helped me to see her more clearly. Silently, I began to pray that Heavenly Father would open my eyes and my heart and I would be able to see this woman as he sees her.
For some minutes I observed her. Every now and again, she would smile. It was a beautiful smile, reaching right to her eyes that seemed to just sparkle. I also noticed her tenderness with her husband and the love that she had for him seemed to leak out all over him. My heart was softening.
I watched her face as the meeting continued. I noticed the wrinkles that the years had brought and the graying hair. I knew that she had probably had many trials in her life, but she was still faithful to promises made.
By the end of the meeting, I had a new vision of this woman and I had a different heart.
The gift of a repentant heart, along with the gift of forgiving others, brings the gift of the Father’s forgiveness. It’s a trio, you see. In God’s economy, it is a ‘best value’ gift.
It seems so appropriate, doesn’t it, that we celebrate the birth of the Son of God. Through him, the ‘best value gifts’ are possible to obtain.
This year, my family made a choice to forget the frenzy and just be together as a family. We don’t often get to see one another anymore so it is the very best kind of a present. We are also forgetting the large Christmas centered meals, and opting for a simple lunch time together on a Sabbath Day. It will be a simple time of rest and enjoying the thoughts of one another.
This change has taken my mind to other kinds of gifts that are given by a loving Father in Heaven. These gifts are called ‘gifts of the spirit’. They may be called the gift of loving kindness and charity as well as the gift of personal revelation and answered prayers. The gift of temperance and discernment also come to mind as well as the gift of humility, happiness and hope.
One of the differences between the worldly gifts and those given by our Father in Heaven is that we cannot purchase them. We must ask for them, and then we have to be willing to invest time into developing the gifts.
For some months now, I have been petitioning my Father in Heaven for the gift of a repentant heart. I want to immediately recognize when I have made an error and offended him. I want to immediately fall to my knees and beg his forgiveness and talk to him about a plan to overcome. It is critical to me to obtain and keep the gift of a repentant heart.
Along with obtaining the gift of a repentant heart will naturally be given the gift of forgiveness. These two gifts are never without one another because of the nature of God. He desires to forgive us more than we understand and the gift of forgiveness is quick to be given. In God’s economy it is a ‘best value’ gift.
As I was pondering these gifts last night, in a sacred place, I realized that I had left out a critical gift that goes hand in hand with these two. I began to plead for the gift of a forgiving heart. It is a trio, you see. We cannot obtain the gift of forgiveness unless we repent and unless we forgive others.
It is interesting, isn’t it, that when you are praying to overcome something or you are praying for a special gift from God, he almost always puts you in a situation where you are ‘tested’ to see how intent you are on obtaining the gift. That is exactly what happened to me.
I found myself in a large group of people. If you knew me, you would know that I don’t particularly like being in a large press of people. Because of that I opted to be at the very back seat of this group. The lady in charge of the group, however, had a different idea. She wanted me in the front and directed me to move forward.
I kindly asked if I could sit in the back. With a frown on her face, she nodded, and I settled in for a quiet time. We soon needed to move to another room, and I again lagged behind to sit on the back row. I immediately found myself confronted again. This time she was more adamant about me moving forward. I explained that I would rather not but she was not satisfied with that answer. She took a hold of my hand and began to tug me forward. I hung back and it became an embarrassing situation. I pulled back and sat down on the back row. Again, she scowled at me and was clearly upset that I had questioned her authority. I was upset that she would make a spectacle of me.
I felt bad that my reverent, quiet time had been intruded upon by someone who clearly had an ‘authority’ issue. I fumed for a few minutes more, then my mind turned to the gifs that I had been praying for. A repentant heart….I needed to clearly recognize my error in this matter. It didn’t take me long to realize that I should have been more submissive and obedient. That recognition provided the catalyst for me to look at myself more closely. It helped me to humble myself enough to beg forgiveness and it helped me to see her more clearly. Silently, I began to pray that Heavenly Father would open my eyes and my heart and I would be able to see this woman as he sees her.
For some minutes I observed her. Every now and again, she would smile. It was a beautiful smile, reaching right to her eyes that seemed to just sparkle. I also noticed her tenderness with her husband and the love that she had for him seemed to leak out all over him. My heart was softening.
I watched her face as the meeting continued. I noticed the wrinkles that the years had brought and the graying hair. I knew that she had probably had many trials in her life, but she was still faithful to promises made.
By the end of the meeting, I had a new vision of this woman and I had a different heart.
The gift of a repentant heart, along with the gift of forgiving others, brings the gift of the Father’s forgiveness. It’s a trio, you see. In God’s economy, it is a ‘best value’ gift.
It seems so appropriate, doesn’t it, that we celebrate the birth of the Son of God. Through him, the ‘best value gifts’ are possible to obtain.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Fly on the Wall
We often hear people say, “If I could only be a Fly on the Wall”. They generally say it in the context of some conversation they would love to be privy to, or some moment in someone else’s life. But here’s my version…
If I let my imagination go, I see myself as a ‘small fly’ and although I may be small, I am the most beautiful small fly you have ever seen. (It’s my adventure and I can imagine me as beautiful as I want!)
My wings are the most shapely and beautiful, effervescent, dark blue that you can ever imagine. And my legs, whoa boy, they are the daintiness, dancing legs in the ‘fly’ clan. Some insects might think I’m a bit thick in the middle, but their just snobs. My body has been made just right for the kinds of adventures I am sure to have.
And talk about my eyes! They are like a hundred black onyx stones reflecting the sunlight. All the boy flies on my wall are immediately taken in by them and you can bet that I don’t mind that. They swarm around me and bump into me just to get my attention. (It doesn’t really matter that there is generally a hot dog with relish and catsup nearby.)
I’m not like most ‘small flies’ who are gluttons when it comes to food. No, I have the most dainty of eating habits as well as a discriminating appetite. I don’t buzz down on every piece of food I see. I go straight for the sugar on the cake while everyone else is working on that hot dog. Then I swiftly move to the potato salad, baked beans and potato chips. I save my personal favorite for last. Yes, I’m talking about the green jello with maraschino cherries, pineapple and whip cream in it. I often think that it is particularly nice of people to make such a wonderful dish just for me. To show my thanks, I am good to leave some for them to enjoy too. (Sometimes I leave little presents in the food, just to show my appreciation.)
My parents took extra care to teach me how to buzz just right so that people in the room would notice how truly wonderful I am. They took much pride in the fact that I learned how to buzz much sooner than all the other ‘small flies’. People started swatting at me before I took my first bite of their cake.
People, well they are giants really, they just love to play with me. They like to play what I call ‘chase and swat’. First they chase me around the room and then they get a newspaper and swat at me. I laugh and buzz around increasing my speed and my hide and seek skills. My parents say it’s not a game, but me, I like to play chase and swat.
I confess that sometimes I like to be very silent and cozy up to their conversations. You learn the most interesting things that way. My parents tell me it’s not polite to listen into someone else’s conversations, but I have to question how I am going to learn anything if I don’t!
Being a fly on the wall….it’s a good fly life.
If I let my imagination go, I see myself as a ‘small fly’ and although I may be small, I am the most beautiful small fly you have ever seen. (It’s my adventure and I can imagine me as beautiful as I want!)
My wings are the most shapely and beautiful, effervescent, dark blue that you can ever imagine. And my legs, whoa boy, they are the daintiness, dancing legs in the ‘fly’ clan. Some insects might think I’m a bit thick in the middle, but their just snobs. My body has been made just right for the kinds of adventures I am sure to have.
And talk about my eyes! They are like a hundred black onyx stones reflecting the sunlight. All the boy flies on my wall are immediately taken in by them and you can bet that I don’t mind that. They swarm around me and bump into me just to get my attention. (It doesn’t really matter that there is generally a hot dog with relish and catsup nearby.)
I’m not like most ‘small flies’ who are gluttons when it comes to food. No, I have the most dainty of eating habits as well as a discriminating appetite. I don’t buzz down on every piece of food I see. I go straight for the sugar on the cake while everyone else is working on that hot dog. Then I swiftly move to the potato salad, baked beans and potato chips. I save my personal favorite for last. Yes, I’m talking about the green jello with maraschino cherries, pineapple and whip cream in it. I often think that it is particularly nice of people to make such a wonderful dish just for me. To show my thanks, I am good to leave some for them to enjoy too. (Sometimes I leave little presents in the food, just to show my appreciation.)
My parents took extra care to teach me how to buzz just right so that people in the room would notice how truly wonderful I am. They took much pride in the fact that I learned how to buzz much sooner than all the other ‘small flies’. People started swatting at me before I took my first bite of their cake.
People, well they are giants really, they just love to play with me. They like to play what I call ‘chase and swat’. First they chase me around the room and then they get a newspaper and swat at me. I laugh and buzz around increasing my speed and my hide and seek skills. My parents say it’s not a game, but me, I like to play chase and swat.
I confess that sometimes I like to be very silent and cozy up to their conversations. You learn the most interesting things that way. My parents tell me it’s not polite to listen into someone else’s conversations, but I have to question how I am going to learn anything if I don’t!
Being a fly on the wall….it’s a good fly life.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Walking on Sacred Ground
Today’s world runs at a hectic place and in the frenzy we are assaulted from every side. At the same time we are driving frantically down the over-crowded freeway hoping to get to the next meeting in time, we are also conducting a meeting over our cell phones. As the cars race by on both sides, we find ourselves crunched between two transport trucks , who successfully diminish our safe view.
Our frantic pace continues throughout the day as we stuff our minds with learning new software at the same time we are trying to accomplish our regular job responsibilities. While we are stuffing our minds with new ideas, concepts and procedures we are also stuffing it with our “to do” list for when we get home from work.
In the midst of all this stress we have to figure out how to make the ‘financial ends’ meet, take the kids to piano and dance lessons, football games and tutoring. Pick up the dry cleaning, a gift for your Mothers Birthday and figure out something quick to make for dinner.
We struggle to sandwich in exercise, washing and ironing, cleaning the house, reading the scriptures and ways to serve others.
After being on the computer all day learning that new software we have to once again get on the computer at home to answer all the family email, write family histories and do genealogical work.
Whew! Take a breath.
There are other times when for no special reason, the pace of life seems to come to a slow halt and our minds and our hearts are suddenly tuned differently.
I had one of those days recently. After a fairly hectic day I arrived home at my condo and inserted the key into my door. Upon opening the door the frantic pace stopped and I knew I was about to enter sacred ground. Quietly, I put down my purse, work-out bag and coat then slipped my shoes from my feet. I just stood there in the room letting by body and mind soak in this special feeling. I didn’t want to do anything that would drive it away because it comes so rarely.
I sat down in the nearest chair and looked around me. I couldn’t help but wonder who was visiting me and why they felt that today was the time to visit. I examined myself and wondered if I had been feeling especially vulnerable, unloved or neglected. Did I need to feel ‘His’ arms around me today more than other days or was ‘He’ just trying to confirm what I already knew…that I’m not alone.
Recently a dear friend wrote me an email and told me of a similar experience he had just had. It was a late evening in the Cayman Islands and he had also had a hectic day . He had just moved there to work for 2 years and was in the midst of learning a new job, getting moved into a new condo and buying a new car, along with getting a new driver’s license for a new country. When he walked into his bedroom the moonlight was filtering through the curtains at his window and he knew…immediately, that he was also on sacred ground. He told me that he had felt God whisper, “I’m here” and my friend was in awe that such a visit had been made.
Yes, there are times when for no special reason, God slows the pace we have been running and wraps us in his arms and whispers ever so quietly, “I’m here and you are never alone”.
Our frantic pace continues throughout the day as we stuff our minds with learning new software at the same time we are trying to accomplish our regular job responsibilities. While we are stuffing our minds with new ideas, concepts and procedures we are also stuffing it with our “to do” list for when we get home from work.
In the midst of all this stress we have to figure out how to make the ‘financial ends’ meet, take the kids to piano and dance lessons, football games and tutoring. Pick up the dry cleaning, a gift for your Mothers Birthday and figure out something quick to make for dinner.
We struggle to sandwich in exercise, washing and ironing, cleaning the house, reading the scriptures and ways to serve others.
After being on the computer all day learning that new software we have to once again get on the computer at home to answer all the family email, write family histories and do genealogical work.
Whew! Take a breath.
There are other times when for no special reason, the pace of life seems to come to a slow halt and our minds and our hearts are suddenly tuned differently.
I had one of those days recently. After a fairly hectic day I arrived home at my condo and inserted the key into my door. Upon opening the door the frantic pace stopped and I knew I was about to enter sacred ground. Quietly, I put down my purse, work-out bag and coat then slipped my shoes from my feet. I just stood there in the room letting by body and mind soak in this special feeling. I didn’t want to do anything that would drive it away because it comes so rarely.
I sat down in the nearest chair and looked around me. I couldn’t help but wonder who was visiting me and why they felt that today was the time to visit. I examined myself and wondered if I had been feeling especially vulnerable, unloved or neglected. Did I need to feel ‘His’ arms around me today more than other days or was ‘He’ just trying to confirm what I already knew…that I’m not alone.
Recently a dear friend wrote me an email and told me of a similar experience he had just had. It was a late evening in the Cayman Islands and he had also had a hectic day . He had just moved there to work for 2 years and was in the midst of learning a new job, getting moved into a new condo and buying a new car, along with getting a new driver’s license for a new country. When he walked into his bedroom the moonlight was filtering through the curtains at his window and he knew…immediately, that he was also on sacred ground. He told me that he had felt God whisper, “I’m here” and my friend was in awe that such a visit had been made.
Yes, there are times when for no special reason, God slows the pace we have been running and wraps us in his arms and whispers ever so quietly, “I’m here and you are never alone”.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Amazingly Beautiful
I sat in the far corner of the Sunday School class quietly waiting for the teacher to begin. There was a chill breeze swirling around my legs and feet from the open door right next to me. I didn’t get up to close it because people were still filtering in from Sacrament meeting and I knew the opening and closing would be too disruptive. Gathering my coat around me I continued my watchful waiting.
Soon a young woman walked passed me on her way to the front of the room. I had noticed in the past how slender and beautiful she is. I had also noticed her voice and I loved it when she sat near me so I could be filled with her beautiful song.
Gazing at her long flowing blonde hair, I recalled another day in Sunday School class. I had entered later than I normally do and needed to find a seat. Someone else had taken my chair in the corner and I was feeling a little out of my comfort zone. I noticed an empty chair right next to this woman. I had noticed that she had a child so I asked if she was saving the seat for her husband. A look of hurt and sadness briefly raced across her eyes and then she quietly said, “No, I’m not married.”
Sunday school class was now beginning and a woman came in late and asked if she could sit next to me. I nodded and she sat down. Class began with the discussion centered a round the Lord’s preparation of his prophet, Joseph Smith. My mind went to church history sites that I had visited and while my mind was wandering I began to hear the tap, tap, tapping of someone texting on their cell phone. It was the woman next to me.
At first my inclination was to be a bit irritated as it was distracting my thought process then I felt a different feeling come. I felt sorry for her. I felt sorry that her texting was preventing her from feeling the spirit of the message being taught. Then my mind began to wander again mulling over the lesson the Lord had just taught me.
Whenever we cross over the bounds the Lord has set we prevent ourselves from hearing the lessons the Lord would teach us. It is interesting isn’t it that the Lord’s voice comes as a small, still whisper. Whether we hear it or not is up to us. We can choose to send a text message or we can choose to hear.
Sunday school class now over I waited for the next class to begin. Realizing that the woman next to me would be playing the piano for that meeting, I stood up to let her out. She stood up, passed me, then turned back to look at me.
“You always look so put together, she said. You are an amazingly beautiful woman.”
How do you respond to something like that? “You are very kind, I said, and you might want to get your eyes checked because I think they are playing tricks on you.” We both laughed as she walked away but as soon as I sat down, I began to cry. I was crying because of her kindness, when I had been judgmental. I was crying because it doesn’t matter what I “look” like. It matters if I have the Lord’s countenance because I am becoming like him.
I remembered another day some 3 or 4 years ago. I was stopping to do some grocery shopping on my way home from my temple assignment. Up one isle and down another I searched for my needed item. As I turned a corner isle I heard a voice call out, “Ma’am?
I ignored what I heard because I knew I was alone and I proceeded down the aisle. Again, I heard a woman call out, ‘Ma’am!”
I turned towards the voice to see if she needed help. She walked up to me and said, “I just could not leave without telling you how beautiful you are.”
The Relief Society teacher was beginning her lesson. As I began to tune into what she was saying I couldn’t help but notice the glow that surrounded her and filled her. I could tell that she was nervous. I could tell that preparing the lesson had deeply impacted her. I could tell that she was humble and she was willing for the Lord to teach her but just as Alma, in the Book of Mormon, she desired for all to be taught.
She had obtained, already, what I so long for. She had received the Lord’s countenance because she is pure, virtuous, kind and because she is full of love.
My own heart was filled and continues to be filled because of her countenance. It gives me hope that someday, maybe someday I will be “amazingly beautiful.”
Soon a young woman walked passed me on her way to the front of the room. I had noticed in the past how slender and beautiful she is. I had also noticed her voice and I loved it when she sat near me so I could be filled with her beautiful song.
Gazing at her long flowing blonde hair, I recalled another day in Sunday School class. I had entered later than I normally do and needed to find a seat. Someone else had taken my chair in the corner and I was feeling a little out of my comfort zone. I noticed an empty chair right next to this woman. I had noticed that she had a child so I asked if she was saving the seat for her husband. A look of hurt and sadness briefly raced across her eyes and then she quietly said, “No, I’m not married.”
Sunday school class was now beginning and a woman came in late and asked if she could sit next to me. I nodded and she sat down. Class began with the discussion centered a round the Lord’s preparation of his prophet, Joseph Smith. My mind went to church history sites that I had visited and while my mind was wandering I began to hear the tap, tap, tapping of someone texting on their cell phone. It was the woman next to me.
At first my inclination was to be a bit irritated as it was distracting my thought process then I felt a different feeling come. I felt sorry for her. I felt sorry that her texting was preventing her from feeling the spirit of the message being taught. Then my mind began to wander again mulling over the lesson the Lord had just taught me.
Whenever we cross over the bounds the Lord has set we prevent ourselves from hearing the lessons the Lord would teach us. It is interesting isn’t it that the Lord’s voice comes as a small, still whisper. Whether we hear it or not is up to us. We can choose to send a text message or we can choose to hear.
Sunday school class now over I waited for the next class to begin. Realizing that the woman next to me would be playing the piano for that meeting, I stood up to let her out. She stood up, passed me, then turned back to look at me.
“You always look so put together, she said. You are an amazingly beautiful woman.”
How do you respond to something like that? “You are very kind, I said, and you might want to get your eyes checked because I think they are playing tricks on you.” We both laughed as she walked away but as soon as I sat down, I began to cry. I was crying because of her kindness, when I had been judgmental. I was crying because it doesn’t matter what I “look” like. It matters if I have the Lord’s countenance because I am becoming like him.
I remembered another day some 3 or 4 years ago. I was stopping to do some grocery shopping on my way home from my temple assignment. Up one isle and down another I searched for my needed item. As I turned a corner isle I heard a voice call out, “Ma’am?
I ignored what I heard because I knew I was alone and I proceeded down the aisle. Again, I heard a woman call out, ‘Ma’am!”
I turned towards the voice to see if she needed help. She walked up to me and said, “I just could not leave without telling you how beautiful you are.”
The Relief Society teacher was beginning her lesson. As I began to tune into what she was saying I couldn’t help but notice the glow that surrounded her and filled her. I could tell that she was nervous. I could tell that preparing the lesson had deeply impacted her. I could tell that she was humble and she was willing for the Lord to teach her but just as Alma, in the Book of Mormon, she desired for all to be taught.
She had obtained, already, what I so long for. She had received the Lord’s countenance because she is pure, virtuous, kind and because she is full of love.
My own heart was filled and continues to be filled because of her countenance. It gives me hope that someday, maybe someday I will be “amazingly beautiful.”
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