Scripture Thoughts

   Our last Sunday in King Salmon, Nate and I were asked to speak in church.  The topic was "Your Relationship with the Lord," and although I did think about it a lot, with packing and preparing for the move and all the normal demands of life, it wasn't until the night before that I actually sat down and put pen to paper.  It took me awhile, but eventually my thoughts began to flow and my talk took shape.  I don't really remember much of it, except one insight that I know did not come from my own wisdom.
  Going back a little further, sometime during the summer weeks that Nate was gone flying, I decided to read the Bible all over again.  In 90 days.  There are reading schedules out there that make all the figuring out easy, so I found one and began following it.  It definitely took commitment!  My scripture reading had suffered since having children, and going from a haphazard chapter or two of the Book of Mormon (sometimes verse or two was more like it!) to 10+ chapters of Old Testament a day was a big change! At first I was a little grumpy about it - I'd been reading for a few days, and while the Genesis review of all the old scripture stories was not bad, I certainly didn't feel particularly blessed to be reading about people's bad choices and the twisted lines of their lives from long ago.  I wasn't feeling the inspiration flow.  It wasn't relating to my life with that *BLING* of revelation and light.  After about a week, however, I did notice a difference.  I wasn't receiving pillars of light or angelic visits, but I was calmer.  I did have more patience.  My heart was happier.  Parenting our girls was easier, and dealing with Nate's absence was less aggravating/sad.  I continued my reading, and became more convinced of its effect all the time.
  And that is where my stroke of revelation for my talk came from.  Reading scriptures is totally important, but not because it is always going to speak to us in golden tones of heavenly light.  It is important because it builds our relationship with the Lord.  And THAT is where all the good things come from.
  It comes easily to most of us, given a listening ear, to pour out our hearts, our wants and worries, our desires and dreams.  Just like a baby, crying out for food or sleep, we feel our state so acutely and naturally reach out for help.  But as we grow in our relationships, we realize the other side has something to share beyond just what we might ask for; we want to get to know the other person, not just be served.  We don't expect every conversation with a friend or spouse to be deep and life-changing, revealing secrets and enlightening our understanding.  Just saying hello regularly deepens our connection.  Laughing at something together, hearing what drives them crazy or makes them really happy, discussing what happened with their day - these are the communicative bricks and mortar of a relationship.  These everyday, common conversations lay the foundation of understanding and connection that allow deeper and deeper discussions, that lead to those life-changing moments we remember all our days.  So it is with reading the Scriptures regularly.
  With that background, here are some thoughts I had today.
  I've been thinking about all the things I want, and don't yet have.  :)  While so very grateful for the blessings that are mine, quite frankly, there are some prayers that are, as yet, unanswered.  It is easy to worry over them.  It is easy to just want and want and want them so bad that, while waiting to receive, hope falters.  I want to believe that my Father will truly bless me, but when I want the chocolate cake and it feels like I'm being handed a bare carrot, its easy to feel let down.  So the other day, when these words popped into my head, I certainly was intrigued.

 "Or what man is there of you, who, if his son ask bread, will give him a stone?

Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?

If ye, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father who is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?"

  And then, today, 

"...he that will harden his heart, the same receiveth the lesser portion of the word: and he that will not harden his heart, to him is given the greater portion of the word, until it is given unto him to know the mysteries of God until he know them in full."

  I believe that my Father is a giver of good gifts.  Better than I can even imagine. I believe that he hears my prayer for bread, and he is not giving me a stone.  I do not aspire to know the mysteries of God "in full," but I do choose to not harden my heart, that I might receive those good gifts that he has for me, not the least of which is a closer walk with Him.  

Mud Puddles

I felt so convicted in my heart today!  Sometimes, church is hard for me because, I realize, I am focused on all my responsibilities, my jobs, my calling vs. my mothering, my abilities to do what I think is needed or expected of me, the struggles to get my children acting the way they should so that they, and I, and those around us, can get anything out of the meetings.  I end up feeling inadequate and judged and defensive and hostile.

Wow! Writing it out is pretty harsh!

You know, that’s a sin.

Not a sin like murder or denying the Holy Ghost, or even maybe like stealing or lying, but a more pernicious and undermining one.  Those others are so obviously wrong that they are like huge pits.

“Oh, look! There’s a pit! Drive around it! Don’t fall in! Stay far away!” is the natural reaction.

Whereas, this…

This is like mud, starting shallow, and gradually becoming a quagmire, a sinking slime of quicksand.

A little mud is not a problem, right?

I mean, you can just drive right on through and come up on the other side just fine; wash the splashes off and none the worse for wear.  We all get muddy every so often, right?

Ok.

Right.  Much of the time that’s true.

But what about when the mud only gets deeper?  How can you tell, just by looking, whether it's a surface puddle or a deep morass?

You can’t always.  And you can’t always avoid the puddles.  But you can avoid some of them.  And thankfully, if you do find yourself in one of those puddles, you can choose where your intake valve is.  If its low, you’re going to suck up water and your motor will totally die – not only will you be spinning tires, you’ll internalize the water, the darkness, the sin, and you will lose that power, that light, that desire in yourself to keep going and get out of the mud.

If its high, you can keep that internal drive, even if you end up spinning tires for a while.  Thankfully, there is a celestial tow service on call.

Often the tow, the jump (if needed) comes from one of their agents here on earth.  After all, to paraphrase a prophet, the Lord hears our prayers, but it is often through a brother or a sister that he answers them.

But even when there is no one around us, no mortal nearby, no physical hand to hold, no warm arms to hug, no audible voice to hear,

Even then, He is there.

Jesus is our Savior.  He WILL save us, if we just ask and reach out to him.  The real sin of my heart in these times is a lack of faith, a lack of focus on Him, that allows me to be so bogged down and depressed.  That lack separates me from His marvelous love and light just as surely as one of the more “serious” sins would, yet I am less likely to notice and change myself, and it is less likely that I will be chastened, uplifted, encouraged, or gently brought along by my brothers and sisters.

(Not that I want anybody to come after me all the time with lectures and sermons and preachiness!! J I’m not asking for a personal avenging angel on my case!  I really appreciate the opportunity to exercise my agency and grow at my own pace, in my own personal relationship and walk with Christ!  I just mean, if we knew that there was a sister who was tempted to or in a situation where one of those more serious sins threatened, wouldn’t we be more apt to reach out, include, talk about our faith, show encouraging examples, praise the Lord (openly, though not ostentatiously) for his power and mercy, etc?  Like I said, I don’t want/need anyone to do anything different toward me – this is just my musings, working things over in my mind.)

Anyway, it is true.

I do need to do better.

There are some things I need to be more mindful of, more careful of.

Repentance is in order.

But most of all, the repentance that I need is the one that turns my heart away from my own small self,

my own failings (real and perceived),

my little wallow of pity-party and resentment and lack,

 and focuses on He who is the Light of the World,

He whose grace can make my weak things become strong,

 He whose strength is made perfect in weakness and

He loves me so much that He died for me.

It really is that simple.

It really is.

Now to do it.

(This started as a personal reflective writing, somewhat stream-of-consciousness, but then the puddle of mud metaphor came out of nowhere and I was reminded of several times we or various acquaintances here in Alaska have gotten stuck in puddles, or pits, or boggy mud out in the middle of the woods... and the rest just came out. ;) 

Today's Relief Society Lesson and Me

This week's Relief Society lesson was all about character, integrity, and one's standing before the Lord.  I have to confess, I have really slacked (up to this point) on reading the lessons in preparations for Sundays.  I know I should, I know I would get more out of each meeting and be able to contribute better, but there are so many reasons why I just haven't done it.
Thursday was a stake leadership training meeting.  Of course, I couldn't go, but they had it all set up so that we could call in like we do for church and at least listen to what went on.  Calling in has its pro's and cons.  I love being able to sit on my couch with my feet up and my pajamas on, nursing my baby as she needs it, while still attending my meetings and fulfilling my calling.  (For church on Sundays, we do dress up and try to make it a little more formal.)  However, I don't like not always being able to hear or tell exactly what's going on, and the trickiness of participating highly discourages that kind of connection.  The one piece of counsel that I heard, remembered, and applied was the admonishment to at least read, if not study, the lesson prior to Sunday, not only for my own benefit but so that I could contribute to the lesson and help the teacher out if needed.
So I read the lesson.
And, as I knew it would, it blessed my life.
One part struck me, not so much while reading it on my own, but definitely during the lesson.  The paragraph reads-
     "We must hearken to ... whisperings (of the Holy Ghost) and conform to its suggestions, and by no act of our lives drive it from us.  It is true that we are weak, erring creatures...but so soon as we discover ourselves in a fault, we should repent of that wrongdoing and as far as possible repair or make good the wrong we may have committed.  By taking this course we strengthen our character, we advance out own cause, and we fortify ourselves against temptation; and in time we shall have so far overcome as to really astonish ourselves at the progress we have made in self-government, and in improvement."
Our teacher asked for some of us to share experiences regarding these words, and, as the staticky moments ticked on without comment, I searched my brain for a something to say, some way to "help" my teacher out. What floated up really amazed me, and though perhaps it didn't help anyone else, it opened my perspective again to the work Heavenly Father is doing in my life.
When we came here, last year, it was the beginning of a really hard time for me.  So many things about this situation have really pushed me beyond what I thought were my limits.  More than once - many times, actually - I felt the darkness of depression, despair, discouragement, loneliness, anger, frustration, and misunderstanding settle over me, and found myself struggling to see the light.  Through much effort, faith, and time, I gradually came out of that darkness into a certain resigned, if consciously blinder-ed, contentment, and from there to a real peace and a joyful life again.  I rejoiced to leave for the holidays and Lucy's birth.  I privately, and publicly, hoped to never return. :)  And when we made the decision to come back for another 8 months, I cried.  And yet...
Somehow, its different this time around.  It may be partly because of the end in sight, and partly because I'm not dealing with the physical and emotional effects of pregnancy, but I think its more than that.  I looked back at my difficult Alaska summer during my time of strengthening and rejoicing in California and wondered how I could have been such a  "weak, erring creature."  Why was it so hard?  Was I just a wimp?  Was I just making mountains out of molehills?  If I look at it that way, then some of of this blog is a pretty embarrassing look at my vulnerabilities and struggles.
I prefer not to look at it that way.
Rather, let's consider it from this angle.  Weakness is a natural state of being.  Its how we all start.  Anything. We may find natural talent, or ease, in a situation or skill, and perhaps certain other strengths, previously developed, give us a headstart, but no one is strong at the very beginning.  Strength is developed.  Therefore, weakness and struggle is not something to be ashamed of!  It is a start, an opportunity, a sign that you are still living and growing and progressing.  A sign that you are human, just one of a large family of people who each struggle in their own way and time.
So I look back, and I look forward, and I ponder my present state, and I "astonish myself at the progress I have made in self-government and improvement."
Isn't it amazing what we learn about ourselves when we do what we know we should? :)

Mother of Two

Somehow, I never thought it would be such a huge transition, going from one child to two.  I've done kids before!  Multiple kids, of all ages!  Why would adding a new baby to my so-far only child be so different, so  challenging, so down-right HARD?

(Okay, I didn't actually think that.  I just didn't really think about it at all.)

It was a challenge from the first weeks of pregnancy to adjust to parenting Eden under the simultaneous demands of morning sickness, milk decreasing, girth increasing, energy waxing and waning (but mostly waning), and all the changes that come with the expectant state.  I learned a lot about slowing down and allowing or even asking for help as I thought I needed it.  Thankfully, Eden was mostly happy and ready to become more independent, bit by bit.  

But when Lucy was born...

One night, when Lucy was just a few days old, Eden woke up crying.  I was in bed, next to the wall, with Lucy, and we had already spent most of the night wrestling with repeated newborn poopy diapers and the process of establishing breastfeeding.  Nate, sleeping to the outside, got up to comfort Eden and help her go back to sleep.  Except that she wouldn't.  She was still getting over a nasty cold, and all she wanted was her mama.  All I wanted was to go to her and make it all better, but Lucy had just latched on and was nursing avidly.  I knew Eden was safe in her loving daddy's patient (if somewhat exasperated) arms, and that I needed to lay still and let my body heal, as well as take care of Lucy, but my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my body!  It was so hard to not be able to be there for her!  (And I will ever be grateful to my husband for dealing so patiently with all of us that night and not just leaving her to cry it out.  I don't think I could have handled that!)

It was such a hard thing for me to learn and be okay with the fact that I could no longer give my all to my one child, because now I had two children to give my all to.  And the logical extension of that realization is that each child, therefore, gets less.  And I was not okay with that!  The depth of desire I have for my children to be blessed and cared for is beyond what I could have comprehended before they came into my life.  It is hard to back up, let go, and trust, when all I want to do is make it all right for them!  In this light, I can understand better some people's decision to limit the number of their children in order to provide more, be there more fully, or in any way, make their lives better.

Except...
I am the fifth of eleven children.
I do not feel deprived, neglected, or like my life was in any way worse for having ten siblings.
I am very glad that my parents did not stop before I was born, and just as glad that they did not stop after I was born!  I treasure each one of my siblings, and each has contributed so much to my growth, my development, and the quality of my life.
I love and admire my mother and my father; I never doubted their love for, and devotion to, me, and to all of my brothers and sisters.  I knew they were sacrificing and doing a hard work in inviting all of us to their family, and I was so glad they were willing to!
I do not consider myself to have received "less" of anything, really, due to multiple siblings.  Only more.

So I am learning to trust that Heavenly Father will fill in the gaps, and that even as my capabilities are stretched to beyond their limit, His glorious grace will pour through the cracks into my children's lives.

(And yes, as the weeks pass, we are settling into our rhythm together and finding ease once again.  As a wise man once said (and I can't remember who it was), "That which we persist in doing becomes easier to do - not that the nature of the thing has changed, but our capacity to do it has increased." Or something like that.  But I know that much of that ease is coming as I learn to more fully rely on Heavenly Father as a mother of two.)

Songs of My Heart

It is a peaceful Sunday afternoon here.  We are wrapped in a world of white, snug in our house surrounded by the first snow of the season - whirling, whipping, gusting, drifting snow.  I'm sure by next April the sight will not be quite so amazing and perhaps more depressing than cozy, but for now it creates an effect of quietness and insulation - perfect for a Sunday at home with the family.

With General Conference last weekend, and Stake Conference this weekend, I've certainly had many things on my mind.  Thoughts of charity, of the Savior, of my calling, of my weaknesses and efforts to improve.  Thoughts of how to open my heart and life more fully to the grace our Savior extends so mercifully and immediately.  Thoughts of how to apply the gospel to my family, to raise up my little one(s) in truth and righteousness, to make my home a haven of peace and love.  Sweet touches of the Spirit, sometimes little pricks of conscience, and over all, a yearning in my heart to draw nearer to my Lord again and walk in the meekness of his light.

I sat at the piano as we hung up the phone after listening to our Stake Conference, and while Nate danced with Eden, I had a few moments to play and sing the hymns.  Soon we noticed that Eden's eyes were drooping, and rather than interrupt the serenity, I just made her a naptime bottle, and Nate sat on the couch rocking her while I extended my few moments into nearly half an hour.  (Its amazing how difficult it is to even play one song without someone else to occupy my little girl!  She wants to be in the middle of it all, playing and turning pages, or have us be all done, all together!)  They went upstairs to lay down, and I was left to play and ponder.

I truly do love to sing, and to play the piano, and the hymns are a special part of that experience.  "The song of the righteous is a prayer unto me," the Lord has told us, and while I may vary in my particular righteousness, when I sing and play the hymns mindfully, it is a prayer, it rises from my heart in an especially meaningful way.  I love to sing all the verses most of the time, because all of the words have meaning.  For me, the hymns are at once a plea rising from my heart and an admonition to it, a prayer and a comforting, a reminder and a teaching moment, as near to a face-to-face moment with my Heavenly Father as any other time I can think of in my life.

I remember, as a young teen, first becoming aware of the fact that I would never be perfect on my own.  Realizing, as I sat out in the golden fields behind my parents house and contemplated the light of a clear, warm sunset, that I was basically a sinner and that all my efforts to be what I should be just weren't enough.  It seems, perhaps, a bit melodramatic, but really it was the realization of my need for a Savior.  I remember feeling kind of hopeless, like Satan had already won because no matter how I tried I couldn't do it all right, even being raised in the gospel and knowing about Jesus Christ all my life, and loving Heavenly Father, and having felt his love so frequently and deeply.  The light faded, and I went inside and sat at the piano and flipped through the music there, the house around me bustling at first with all the going-to-bed busyness of little kids and gradually growing darker and quieter.  Hymn #85, How Firm a Foundation, came to my mind, and I opened to it and began to sing and play.  The last verse changed my life at that point.

The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose, I will not, I cannot desert to his foes. 

That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,

I'l never, no never, no never forsake.

My whole understanding of the Atonement opened up then, and the peace and hope that grew in my heart were the greatest blessing I could have ever received.

A few years later, I sat on my room mate's bed in our dorm room after work and puzzled over a short note telling me to call home as soon as I got in.  I called, and received the devastating and unexpected news of my dear brother's death.  As soon as I hung up the phone, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I literally felt as if my world was shattering and turning like a kaleidoscope.  So far away from my family, in Hawaii, I felt my heartstrings snapping.  Some dear friends, sisters really, came and sat with me as we waited for a member of our bishopric to come and give me a blessing.  We went into the lounge to wait, and I couldn't talk, I couldn't sit in silence, my mind was whirling dizzy with thoughts of every kind, and all I could do was sit down at the piano and play the hymns.  When the RA's kicked us out because of the lateness of the hour, my dear friends went with me to the music labs, still open for practicing music majors (which I was not), and sat with me til they too closed.  Somehow playing those hymns kept my hold on sanity and a small measure of peace, a reassurance of my Father's love and his merciful plan of redemption for all his children, and a grounding anchor to those things I did know in such turmoil of what I did not.

Again, after losing our precious first baby, we drove home in mostly exhausted silence.  Once home, our house seemed empty and quiet.  What to do now... the surreal bubble surrounding me, the isolation and shock and disbelief left me without an independent mind, almost.  I sat down at the piano and began to play. I remember Nate standing behind me, tears on his cheeks, as I sang "Abide with Me."  I didn't cry during that song, but I was singing it with all my heart to my Lord, pleading with him that he be with me now because I felt so utterly lost and alone.  I sang another song, and the words "I shall rejoice in time" choked in my throat as my grief almost drowned my faith in that promise.  Yet still I sang, because clinging to that promise was all I could do.  Later, after several months had passed, craziness filled my head and threatened to "drag me down to the gulf of misery and endless wo." Literally.  I chose not to give in, but I sat, mentally and emotionally and spiritually paralyzed, at the edge of that pit, til a particular Sunday afternoon of singing and playing the hymns softened my frozen heart and let a measure of healing faith and love seep in through the darkness, as tears made distorted lenses of my eyes and splashed with fat wetness on my hands and wrists.  

I thought I could never be happy again, at least not fully so.  (In fact, when Elder Bowen spoke on Sunday, during this General Conference, all I could think was, "Please, don't talk about this!  Please, just don't talk about it.  The tears and pain and sorrow, and fear for this new baby, swept over me anew, and I realized again that only Heaven will heal this loss fully.)  Yet, skipping ahead just over a year from that time of loss and sorrow, I was again sitting at the piano.  This time, however, we were in Alabama, and though I played the same songs and Nate again stood behind me with tears on his cheeks, our circumstances could not have been more different.  This time, our precious little Eden, healthy and whole, was cradled in her daddy's arms, and as I played I began to cry because I felt the miracle of healing where I had not expected it.  Without negating our earlier loss and sorrow, I was suddenly overcome with a fullness of joy such as I had never felt. It was as if a piece of the celestial kingdom was wrapped around us and all things were made right, though they were not yet.  I cannot fully describe the blessing of that moment.  

These moments came back to me vividly as I sat at our piano just now, and others, perhaps not so dramatic, but still so valuable as small and tender mercies.  I am so thankful for the hymns of Zion, and the power that is within them.  I am so thankful for parents who sacrificed and encouraged and enforced and brought me up to play the piano and to value music.  I am so thankful for a husband who also encourages me, and who has made every effort to provide me with a piano to play in every one of our homes - even here in Alaska.  It is a blessing to me.

Mission; Mothering

I've been home from my mission for four years and four months.  It was truly a very wonderful, very difficult, absolutely challenging and fulfilling, fully worth every moment, year and a half spent loving and learning and growing and serving.  If someone asked me, "Should I go?" my answer would be, "Absolutely!"  But get as ready as you can first.  Be worthy.  Have a testimony.  And determine to do everything you can to serve however you can, to lift rather than to weigh down.  It was a wonderful time - but more challenging than you could ever imagine.  :)

I've heard it said that those mission years were the best two years of one's life.  I've rarely heard it said that they were the hardest two years, maybe partly because that is not a very positive view of such an important period of service, and who wants to admit that anyway?  I will say it though!  They were the hardest of my life up til that point!  However!  Life goes on, and I feel glad and blessed to say that now, while I count my mission as a very special time, it is neither the best nor the hardest years of my life.  I do feel, however, that the experiences and learning that happened during that time have been the best training I could have ever received for the rest of life.

(Some may wonder about my focus on what the mission did for me, seeing that the mission is supposed to be about what we can do for other folks.  I must admit, while others can claim baptisms and miracles, cite numbers of lessons and Book of Mormon placements, my mission was, in those terms, not so successful.  The truth is, I don't really know all that my mission did for others.  I hope it was a blessing to them.  I was able to participate in some baptisms (which, every time, were marvelous, blessed events!) and I know that I was able to do the work the Lord had for me, but I didn't get to see a whole lot of the fruit.  So, while I can't really say what my service did for others, I do know what the Lord did for me through those experiences.)  That being said...

Yesterday was a hard day with my little charge!  We had an epic struggle, and although it all eventually ended well, it spanned nearly an hour and a half, had me in tears at several points, and truly brought me to the end of my wits.  Without going into details, I will simply say in retrospect that it involved, in small degree, obedience and cleaning up, with a large measure of age-typical non-compliance, an already not-so-good day for me, and ... I can't even remember what else now!  It got blown way out of proportion and turned into a real perfect storm of a power struggle.  It was HORRIBLE!

I talked with her dad, and called my mom for suggestions later and, after Eden was asleep, did some reading and pondering.  I was comforted, :) and enlightened, and encouraged enough to keep going.  But more than anything, I was reminded of my mission, the true, eternal, overwhelmingly important mission of motherhood  (or parenthood, I guess you could say.)  It helps everything to have to proper perspective.  I'm not little H.'s mom, but I am acting in loco parentis for a good portion of her life right now, and of course, I have my own daughter and new little one coming.  It helps me to remember what I am actually doing here.

I'm not trying to only shape behavior.  I'm not being the boss just because I'm bigger and its easier if I run things.  I'm not (primarily!) making them do things to make my life easier!  What I'm really trying to do is exactly the same thing I was doing in Spain, and that is, the Lord's work.  Bring souls to Him.  Invite them to come unto Christ.  Every little thing I do influences these little ones' perception of Heavenly Father and His love for them, and who and what our Savior is.  Every teaching, implicit or explicit, registers in their little hearts and minds and leaves the mark of love and truth or the opposite.  (Good thing they're so forgiving and resilient, and we can try again tomorrow!)  I just as much, if not more, need His inspiration and guidance to mother these little ones as I ever did to teach the gospel as a missionary.  I just as much, if not more, need to draw upon His words, His revelation, the power of prayer, the guidance of the Spirit.  I just as much need to examine myself, repent, and be worthy.  Of course, mothering looks a whole lot different and has a different timeline, but I know of no better preparation that I could have had for this crucial and eternal calling in which I am now privileged to serve.

(And just to be clear, I find this calling to be way harder and way better than the other one - but then the other set the stage for this, so I'm not saying its an either/or thing!)


And if you're still reading, past all the parentheses, probably-run-on sentences, and highly condensed, somewhat cryptic thoughts, I give you a gold star! :) And I have a really really good book to review sometime when my little Eden is not pulling at my knee and loudly demanding my attention.

Sabbath Eve Thoughts

My little bundle of energy is finally asleep.  

Whew! 

Finally!

This business of moving from two to one naps is wearing both of us out, but one of us is not willing to admit it at all. ;)  But when she goes down for the night, she is out!  And I have some time to, well, usually clean.  Or collapse early into bed myself.  Or wait up for my dear husband.  Or surf the web looking at fabric and patterns and reading other random blogs and homeschooling information. :) 

(And, by the way, I must apologize for the dearth of pictures lately!  Nate did show me how to get them from my phone to the blog but... I kind of forgot.  And haven't taken the time to figure it out again.  But I will soon! And you will be refreshed in the visual department, and delighted, as I am daily, with our beautiful, growing girl, and maybe even a shot of the growing baby belly too!)

Anyway, tonight, as I was laying there in the dark bedroom, putting Eden to sleep, feeling her little hands twining through my hair, I was pondering.  My phone was playing a recording of "Fishers of Men," and the beautiful music and testimonies both soothed my spirit and ignited my own chain of pondering.  The voices of the prophets diminished in my hearing, and I began considering the various parts of my life, questions I wanted to ask Nate about the Priesthood (as a side note, it is fascinating to me to learn from a priesthood holder all sorts of details about the priesthood and priesthood service that I never learned!) and opportunities to serve in various capacities that have been given to me.   

I have to admit, probably to my shame, that when I'm given a new calling, my first thought is not always joyful and excited.  In fact, oftentimes the first thought that comes into my head is, "Really?!  Why me?!"  Why me, sometimes in that I've-already-got-a-lot-on-my-plate, are-you-sure-you-want-me type way, but more often why me in the sense that I know very well my own limitations, struggles, and lack of experience and I know that there are other people who are much more qualified and better able to do this job!  

So I wonder, "Why me?"

But I say yes, because I'm not going to say no to the Lord, no matter how much I want to. (Please tell me I'm not the only one who has struggled with this!)

Well, tonight I realized that my YES is all He wants.

He doesn't need my skills.

He doesn't need my time.

He doesn't need my particular talents.

I'm not so special that He only wants me to fill this calling 'cause nobody else could do it, or do it better.

In fact, to mortal eyes, my own included, my serving in this calling might have no important effect.

He is able to do His own work.

He doesn't need me to do it.

What He needs, for His work and His glory, (that is, my immortality and eternal life) is my yes.  What He needs for His work and His glory (that is, the immortality and eternal life of all His children) is that some of us say yes.  He will work through us.  But we must say yes.

Of course, saying yes includes giving my skills, my time, my talents, everything I can and need to, to the particular ministry with which I am entrusted at the time, but beyond that, it lies in His hands.  The outcome, outside of me, is up to Him.  The outcome, inside of me, is up to me.  If I say yes to Him, regardless of what He asks and does with my offering, His work will be done in my heart and my life, 

and isn't that what I want?

I said yes when I was baptized.  And I meant it, with all my eight-year-old heart.

I had the opportunity to say yes again as I passed through the temple to receive my endowment,

and I did so, with much fuller understanding and intent.

So why does it matter now?

Why do I need to say yes when the Lord asks me to do this thing?

Because those yes's must be lived out every day, or in reality, what do they mean?

Anyway, just some thoughts on the eve of this week's Sabbath.  I can't do it all, sometimes I think I can't really do much, but I can say yes.  He'll do with it what He wants.  

And I'll get some pictures up tomorrow, I promise!

Church in the Bush Branch

One of the first things we wondered about, and indeed, many people asked about, was the size and functioning of the church up here.  We have been blessed to live, so far, in places with a strong membership and active wards, and that is something you can begin to take for granted.  The church, our callings, serving one another, visiting teaching, home teaching, long drives to the temple, all the various meetings on Sunday and Wednesday nights - sometimes it is even easy to grumble and murmur a little at the amount of our lives it all takes up!  And oftentimes, it is a considerable sacrifice.

But there's nothing like not having all of that to wake you up to the blessing it really is.

We have never had to wonder 

who to call with questions about the community,

where to turn for help with moving furniture,

how to find others who share our faith,

who will help give blessings in times of sickness,

and so much more.

Though we've lived across the continent from our families, we have been surrounded by family.

Literal brothers and sisters.

So blessed.

But now, we have the opportunity to grow and experience life without a lot of that support.

Perhaps be that support to others.

So this is how church  in the Bush Branch goes.  The Bush Branch, by the way, is based in Anchorage and encompasses a geographical area larger than all of Texas.  The "bush" country of Alaska.  We have a branch presidency that lives in Anchorage, and an elder's quorum and Relief Society presidency that have been great about contacting us already with newsletter emails and a phone call for Nate.  On Sundays, we call a 1-800 number that hooks us up to a conference call based at the chapel (I think) in Anchorage.  Priesthood is at 9am, followed by sacrament meeting, which proceeds quite normally.  Of course, there are some differences.  Roll is called over the phone and visitors get to announce who and where and how many they are. They can see your phone numbers, so you don't speak up and they don't know you, they'll ask!

You put your phone on mute and listen while the speakers give their talks, and sing along with the hymns as they are played over the phone.  When its time for the sacrament, the conducting brother says, "We'll now have the sacrament," and there is a long pause to bless and take your own.  (We had pretzel sticks and some water in an appetizer cup the first time!)

Sunday school is pretty much as usual, except, of course, if you want to comment you have to un-mute your phone and interject who you are before you do so.  I actually really enjoyed it; I felt like I had to pay closer attention to get anything out of it, and the deeper personal engagement really brought the Spirit to the lesson for me.  There also has to be more active participation than a normal sunday school class. Obviously non-verbal participation doesn't work out very well and if you don't speak up, the teacher is left talking the WHOLE time, so it kind of pulls your thoughts out of you.  At least it did for me. :) Relief Society was that way too.  Even though we only know of a few other families in this area that are LDS, and have only even met two of them, it was wonderful to feel the Spirit and light that come as we sing and pray and worship and discuss the restored gospel together.  

There is a little chapel here, as there used to be a branch.  Apparently too many people moved away, so it was merged with the Bush Branch, but I think it would be great if we could get enough of us together to organize a new branch and open the building!