Access to covenant power

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Morning Session of the October 2008 Conference. 

I think it's fascinating that my deepening understanding of covenants in recent years doesn't necessarily mean no one has understood covenants until now. Ha! I mean, it's just that President Nelson is so good at explaining things, and I do think "the Lord is expanding the saints' understanding," so sometimes I feel like all this talk of "power through covenants" and "covenant connection" is some new thing. But I guess everyone who has studied covenants, or who has sought God's power, will eventually come to these same sorts of insights, and for proof we have Elder Christoffersen's talk in this 2009 conference session! It is SO good! And SO packed with doctrine! But I don't think I could have read it even ten years ago and had the context for understanding it that I have now, thanks to all the recent conference talks that have extended my knowledge. Here are a few parts of it that resonated with what I've been thinking about:

We need strong Christians who can persevere against hardship, who can sustain hope through tragedy, who can lift others by their example and their compassion, and who can consistently overcome temptations. We need strong Christians who can make important things happen by their faith.

This is a description of everything I want to be. So, how do I get there? Through the power of covenants, of course:

What is the source of such moral and spiritual power, and how do we obtain it? The source is God. Our access to that power is through our covenants with Him.

Elder Christoffersen explains so clearly the multiple ways that covenants with God give us power. I liked this thought:

First, as we walk in obedience to the principles and commandments of the gospel of Jesus Christ, we enjoy a continual flow of blessings promised by God in His covenant with us. Those blessings provide the resources we need to act rather than simply be acted upon as we go through life.…Obedience gives us greater control over our lives, greater capacity to come and go, to work and create. Of course, age, accident, and illnesses inevitably take their toll, but even so, our obedience to this gospel law enhances our capacity to deal with these challenges.

It's good to remember that even though, as we are constantly being reminded, we don't have control over all these things (age, accident, illness, trials etc)—that doesn't mean we can't have "greater control" by obeying God's commandments! That's the whole point of His laws—to help us go through life with more (not "all") agency. It feels comforting to know that we will always have the "resources we need" to cope with challenges, if we turn to God's instructions!

I also liked this reminder that whenever we feel the Spirit, we can take it as evidence of God's pleasure and be comforted by that:

…As we honor our covenants…faith expands. In the first place, the promised fruits of obedience become evident, which confirms our faith. Secondly, the Spirit communicates God’s pleasure, and we feel secure in His continued blessing and help.

It's a happy thought that even in my very imperfect days, I might have a few moments of feeling and knowing that God is happy with me. Elder Christoffersen also says:

Our covenant commitment to Him permits our Heavenly Father to let His divine influence, “the power of godliness,” flow into our lives. He can do that because by our participation in priesthood ordinances we exercise our agency and elect to receive it. Our participation in those ordinances also demonstrates that we are prepared to accept the additional responsibility that comes with added light and spiritual power.

I think it's interesting that many people might feel some desire for godly power. But many also don’t want to do something just because God or a prophet [or “an old white man”] says so. And that itself shows that they are not ready for more power, because they wouldn’t use it as God would. Our submission, our willingness to do whatever He says, demonstrates that we are at least starting to learn lessons about what true power means and how the greatest of all must be the servant of all. It shows, as Elder Christoffersen says, that we're ready to start practicing with that power.

I also loved this:

It is the Holy Ghost that reveals how you may clear the next seemingly insurmountable hurdle. It is by the Holy Ghost in you that others may feel the pure love of Christ and receive strength to press forward. It is also the Holy Ghost, in His character as the Holy Spirit of Promise, that confirms the validity and efficacy of your covenants and seals God’s promises upon you.

It's true. I don't fully understand it, but it's true! I can't even say how many times now I have pressed forward blindly, but obediently, and somehow "cleared the next seemingly insurmountable hurdle." And all those promises to covenant Israel President Nelson has wanted us to study really are relevant to our lives! God will send the strength, the helpers, and the wisdom that we need to face absolutely any trial! Those promises are "sealed upon us" as we cling to our covenants, and that is perhaps the most comforting truth of all!

Other posts in this series:

Provident Living—by Rozy

Eggs

The high schoolers (Daisy and Malachi) and I are doing a "writing group" this year and it's one of the best things ever. I (and occasionally Malachi, when he thinks he can get away with it) assign short essays or articles for reading, and then we take turns giving weekly writing assignments. I can't in good conscience get out of doing these assignments myself, so I've been accumulating some personal essays dredged up from life experiences. Some of these experiences really do deserve to be written about! And this is one of them.

I was scrubbing the stovetop one afternoon when I heard a strangled “Help!” Walking into the high-ceilinged living room, I was horrified to see the window guy hanging from the upper-story windowsill by his fingertips. His ladder was a few feet to his left.

“Oh no!” I said. 

“Hey,” the guy said, politely, but still in that strangled tone. His face was pressed against the wall. “Hey. Can you…uh…”

It had already been a strange afternoon. It wasn’t the first time I’d had the windows cleaned, of course. The second-story windows in that house seemed to attract grime. After a few rainstorms they’d be covered with water spots and I’d get progressively more fed up with them until I finally said yes to one of the constant stream of window-washers coming to our door.

I never quite knew if any of these prospective washers—always men in their early twenties, usually carrying clipboards—worked for an actual company or were at all otherwise on the up-and-up. Most of them produced some sort of business card, but these ranged wildly from semi-professsional-looking designs featuring rainclouds or squeegees to templates apparently chosen at random from a free word-processing program at the library. “We’re in your area,” the prospects would always say when I opened the door. “We’re doing, uh, Steve’s windows from down the street.” There was no Steve down the street. “We can offer you a good discount if you want yours done today.”

I usually sent them away with varying degrees of civility, but when I got desperate enough, I’d pick the nicest, least-shifty looking one and say, “Do you do the screens too?” This was my best narrowing technique, as most of them balked at the extra work. I’d had the screens cleaned by an earlier window-washer once, though, and it had made enough difference I didn’t ever want to go back.

Today was one of those days I'd been desperate enough. A dusty summer storm had left the windows looking like they were covered with one of those pinpricked window shades people put up to shade babies in cars, and it made the house feel dim, almost oppressive, inside. It bothered me enough that when the doorbell rang, I invited in a sad-looking, droopy-haired fellow with his ladder and box full of cleaning fluids. He did screens, he announced, and that decided me. The kids had been watching him work on the high living room windows for the last hour while I cleaned up the kitchen, and they remained staring up at him with useless and benign interest all the while I was hurrying in to see what had happened. At his broken-off plea for help I was already running for the ladder and moving it toward his dangling feet. “Hang on,” I said, unnecessarily. “Here we go…that should…” I scooted one of the higher rungs until it touched his toe, and he scrabbled about backwards with his foot until he could set it firmly on the ladder. He let go of the windowsill and let out a dramatic sigh. “Whoaaaaa,” he said, turning around to droop his upper body bonelessly down across the top of the ladder. “Whoaaa.”

“Are you okay?” I said. “How did that happen?”

“I leaned over too far,” he said from between his arms. “Feet slipped off. Barely caught the windowsill.”

“It was impressive!” I said. “I’m amazed you could hold on like that.”

“Whoaaaaa,” he moaned.

“Lucky it turned out okay!” I said brightly, uncomfortable with his growing distress. “You’re okay now!”

“Ohhhh mannnn,” he moaned, and I could hear him starting to breathe in and out more quickly.

“Hey, come on down from there,” I said. “Do you want to sit down for a minute? Before you get back to it, I mean?” I looked up at the half-cleaned window above us.

The droopy guy climbed down from the ladder rung by rung, feeling for each step with his foot before putting his weight on it. When he had reached the ground he said “ohhhh mannn” again, and I tried to smile reassuringly as he collapsed on a nearby couch. He flopped over the arm of it in the same way he’d flopped over the ladder. “Whoaaaa,” he said.

“I’ll just give you a minute while I finish the dishes,” I said cheerily. “Always plenty to do around here, ha ha!” The guy didn’t answer.

After I’d finished the stove, done the dishes, and wiped the counters I walked back into the living room. He was still lying there. “I make the best eggs,” he said, voice muffled by the arm of the couch.

“Pardon?” I said.

“Eggs,” he said. There was a silence.

“I bet you do,” I said to his back.

“I have a special technique,” he said. “I could show you.”

“That’s so fun,” I said, a little helplessly.

He sat up and flopped his hair out of his eyes. “I made it up,” he said. “But it makes the fluffiest eggs. You wouldn’t believe it.”

“A man of many talents,” I said jovially, looking at the ladder. “Eggs. And windows.”

“All I need is a frying pan and a little butter,” he said.

I scooted the ladder a few inches closer to the window. I laughed lightly. “Next time I need a cooking lesson!” I said. “I’ll know who to call! And these windows are starting to look good too!” 

“I’d do it for free,” he said unironically, and without warning, he buried his face in his hands again. 

“Ohhhhh mannnn. Ohhh mannnn.” He blew out the air in his lungs and moaned, then subsided into silence.

A minute went by.

“What kind of eggs?” I said.

He sat up again. “I don’t call them a certain kind of eggs,” he said. “It’s a whole technique. There’s no name for it. You have to get the pan scorching hot first. It freaks some people out.”

“Oh, no way,” I said.

He stood up. “I’ll show you right now,” he said. “You like eggs, right? You’ll never eat them any other way again. Do you have butter? And some oregano? And a frying pan? Some people don’t keep frying pans around, and I’m just like, what are you even doing, you know?”

“I know,” I said. I felt I had crossed some invisible point of no return, and he apparently sensed it too, because he went into the kitchen and started opening cupboards.

“Nice crock pot,” he said, as I followed him mutely and handed him a frying pan. “Don’t forget the butter,” he reminded me. “And a spatula.”

A few of the kids came into the kitchen and I picked up the toddler as an excuse for something to do. The window guy was narrating as he sliced a wedge of butter off the cube with the spatula and put it in the pan. “You don’t want too much, but it’s gotta be butter, you know? Not just butter. That freaks some people out.”

“Well, we like butter, don’t we!” I said, jouncing the toddler a little. “Oh—you’re really beating those eggs.”

He kept beating them with the flat end of the spatula, explaining his actions to me as he went. I waited with grim anticipation to see what the “secret method” would be. It was, it turned out, adding a splash of water to the eggs. When they were done, he divided them into two bowls and I ate mine, nodding in what I hoped was an appreciative manner while he told me how any other kind of eggs were going to be absolutely ruined for me now. “Some people don’t want to put in the effort for a decent egg,” he said. 

I stood up and put my bowl in the sink with an emphatic clank. “Speaking of effort,” I said. “Do you want me to help you move that ladder back over?”

“No thanks,” he said, flopping his hair. “I’ve been doing windows since before I could cook.”

Mold it into something of beauty

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Relief Society Session of the October 2008 Conference. 

"Happiness, Your Heritage." I remember this talk well from when I first heard it. I thought it was so interesting that Elder Uchtdorf picked out these two specific traits of God—creation and compassion—to highlight and suggest we emulate. This time, I thought it was interesting to think about the tension inherent in this gift of creation:

Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment. We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty.

I agree with this wholeheartedly. I don't know that I truly identify as a "creative person," but in this context, in wanting to take "unorganized matter" and make it more beautiful, I have felt (and still do feel) this desire. A large part of my enjoyment of motherhood has come in trying to create a home and a family life full of beauty. Where the tension comes in is that I'm gradually realizing how few things I really do have the power to "mold." I used to be so optimistic (idealistic? naive, maybe?) about getting my kids to "turn out" this or that specific way. And of course I should believe, need to believe, that I can influence my children—what would be the point of motherhood otherwise? But the cause-and-effect relationship—of what I want my children to do, and try to teach them to do, and what they actually do—is, to my sometime discouragement, not very strong. It's not that I'm unhappy with who my children are. I actually love seeing some of the surprising and unexpected ways their own personalities come into being. But there is much less "molding like clay" to raising children than I perhaps anticipated at first.

Elder Uchtdorf mentioned this in another talk, in fact—the idea that we as parents can nurture and provide environments for growth, but the growth and progression of another person is not within our control. I think when I first envisioned taking the "unorganized matter" of my home and children and molding it into "something of beauty," I had in mind that I'd have more control over the final result. That indeed would have brought "deep satisfaction and fulfillment"!

But now I'm realizing that I have to find fulfillment in the process of simply creating, as best I can, an environment of beauty and love. Not in the final result. Not in the choices of others. But in the process and joy of serving and bringing good, whatever good I can, into the world. In the work and effort of nurture and development. And I have to trust Jesus Christ and His power to ultimately "give the increase," in His own time and His own way.

Other posts in this series:

Julie B. Beck—Revisiting Goals—by Jan

Fulfilling the Purpose of Relief Society—by Rozy

Februarying

We made millions of chocolates for Valentine's Day. The girls had vague ideas, last summer when we learned to make these, of selling them. They really are good enough to sell! But then it seemed like such a lot of trouble to figure out how to actually do that. So we decided to just give them away to all our neighbors and friends instead. It was fun.

Daisy and Goldie (and me) melted and tempered and dipped all afternoon. It was hard work! (Daisy felt it would be improper to just smile gaily after such hard work. It was serious.)

All right, I admit they are not perfectly shaped. We're still working on that.😄 But they are perfectly well-tempered and perfectly delicious! We made orange cream again. And caramels, of course. And we tried lime cream fillings this time too. They were good! Next time we'll put lime zest in them and they will be even better.

Safe in his loving arms

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Afternoon Session of the October 2008 Conference.

Just a quick quote today. I remembered Elder Cook's talk "Hope ya know, we had a hard time" because of the cute story at the beginning. I didn't remember much more about it. But I keep thinking about how much comfort and healing for so many trials, so many unfairnesses, so many wounds of mortality, is contained in this simple doctrine:

I could tell, as our three-year-old talked to his mother and told her of the hard time, he gained comfort and then reassurance. Our prayers are that way when we go to our Father in Heaven. We know He cares for us in our time of need.…

I testify that the Atonement of Jesus Christ covers all of the trials and hardships that any of us will encounter in this life. At times when we may feel to say, “Hope you know, I had a hard time,” we can be assured that He is there and we are safe in His loving arms.

There's so much more Jesus can do for it than this, of course. He can help us learn from trials, grow from them, move past our old selves and become so much more. But even if all He ever did was just "hold us safe in His loving arms" while we cried and told him how hard it was—that would be an amazing gift. It's amazing how many times I have gone to God in prayer and just told him all the things I'm sad, scared, and discouraged about. And every time I come away feeling better. It's miraculous to think that no matter what we come to God with—questions, doubts, complaints, failures—He sends us away with comfort and reassurance and resolve. What a gift for a parent to give a child!

Other posts in this series:

The secret sauce is pondering—by Jan Tolman

Life is hard—by Rozy

Not for the weak

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Morning Session of the October 2008 Conference.

Elder Hales' talk was so good! He spoke on a topic I feel I am only just barely beginning to understand. It's a topic I feel is very much "for recent days" (and has been talked about so much lately by President Nelson and President Oaks!) so it's interesting that he was already talking about it 17 years ago. He starts with this:

One of mortality’s great tests comes when our beliefs are questioned or criticized. In such moments, we may want to respond aggressively—to “put up our dukes.” But these are important opportunities to step back, pray, and follow the Savior’s example. …When we respond to our accusers as the Savior did, we not only become more Christlike, we invite others to feel His love and follow Him as well.

I say I'm just beginning to understand this not because it's anything new, obviously. Of course I've known since I was little that we should "love our enemies" etc. But I think I've just kind of held back in my mind, and still do to some extent, thinking, "Well…but…you have to defend goodness and stand up to evil. And you can't back down on that. And mean people use 'niceness' against nice people." …Along with a bunch of other excuses which have valid and defensible points but are, ultimately,  not the point. That's what I'm learning.

And it's not like Elder Hales is advocating some naive passivity. He says,

"To respond in a Christlike way cannot be scripted or based on a formula.…Some people mistakenly think responses such as silence, meekness, forgiveness, and bearing humble testimony are passive or weak. But to “love [our] enemies, bless them that curse [us], do good to them that hate [us], and pray for them which despitefully use [us], and persecute [us]” takes faith, strength, and, most of all, Christian courage.…

When we do not retaliate—when we turn the other cheek and resist feelings of anger—we … stand with the Savior. We show forth His love, which is the only power that can subdue the adversary and answer our accusers without accusing them in return. That is not weakness. That is Christian courage.

That idea that resisting even feelings of anger is an act of discipleship and courage is so powerful. Again, there have been so many times in my life where I just can't stand to give up on my "justified" outrage over some unfairness. I feel so secure in my own unassailable "rightness" that I miss the entire lesson, which isn't about being right at all! (And it's so funny that I struggle with this, because I see it so clearly and think it's so dumb when my kids do it to each other! I see them deceiving even themselves all the time, pretending all they want is to get other people to follow the rules, all they want is that “justice” be served—when in reality it is all about their own pride and being right. They are so filled with confidence in their own position that they are blind. And I know I am often just as blind for the same reason!)

There are so many great doctrines in this talk. I especially loved:

As we respond to others, each circumstance will be different. Fortunately, the Lord knows the hearts of our accusers and how we can most effectively respond to them. As true disciples seek guidance from the Spirit, they receive inspiration tailored to each encounter. And in every encounter, true disciples respond in ways that invite the Spirit of the Lord.

…As true disciples, our primary concern must be others’ welfare, not personal vindication. Questions and criticisms give us an opportunity to reach out to others and demonstrate that they matter to our Heavenly Father and to us. Our aim should be to help them understand the truth, not defend our egos or score points in a theological debate. Our heartfelt testimonies are the most powerful answer we can give our accusers. And such testimonies can only be borne in love and meekness.

and then a key point:

These qualities are first learned in the home and family and can be practiced in all our relationships.

I am beginning to see how some of the most frustrating interactions with my children, where I've felt so hurt and betrayed and unappreciated, and have wondered "Why do I always have to be the one who says sorry and reaches out again"—the times when it has all seemed most unfair, and it is unfair—are also the times when I'm getting this essential practice in love, patience, and meekness. These are the places where I'm starting to glimpse how only love, not contentious argument, can influence others. And where I'm learning that having and keeping the Spirit is actually more comforting than the impossible goal of getting everyone to just quit being bad all the time and agree with me. :) 

And maybe in another forty years I'll have made enough progress to echo with any credibility these beautiful words of Elder Hales:

To all who seek to know how we should respond to our accusers, I reply, we love them. Whatever their race, creed, religion, or political persuasion, if we follow Christ and show forth His courage, we must love them. We do not feel we are better than they are. Rather, we desire with our love to show them a better way—the way of Jesus Christ. …To help them, to be an example for them, is not for the weak. It is for the strong. It is for you and me, Latter-day Saints who pay the price of discipleship by answering our accusers with Christian courage.

Other posts in this series:

Fearlessly following the spirit—by Jan Tolman

Christian Courage—by Rozy

The strength we need and to spare

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Priesthood Session of the October 2008 Conference.

Elder Uchtdorf gave his great "Lift Where You Stand" talk this session, which I love, but my favorite talk was Elder Eyring's "O Ye That Embark." This is the summary passage at the top:

Our power to carry burdens can be increased more than enough to compensate for the increased service we will be asked to give.

I had read and marked this talk four years ago, but a part I didn't remember was this story from when Elder Eyring was a new apostle:

Shortly after I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve, I got a phone call from President Faust, counselor in the First Presidency. He asked me to come to his office. I went with some concern as to why he would take the time to visit with me.

After some pleasantries, he looked at me and said, “Has it happened yet?” When I looked puzzled he went on to say, “I’ve been watching you in meetings. It seems to me that you have been feeling that your calling is beyond you and that you are not qualified.”

I said that doubt had come to me, as if I had hit a wall. I expected that he was going to reassure me. I told him that I appreciated his being aware of my doubts and asked for his help. But I was surprised by his kind, firm reply. He said, “Don’t ask me. Go to Him.” Then he pointed up to heaven. Now years later I sit in that same office. When I walk into it I look up and remember him and how he taught me by example how to help those who are feeling overwhelmed in the Lord’s service. Find a way to send them with confidence to Him. If they will follow your counsel, they will gain the strength they need and to spare.

I have gotten used to reading about the doubts and fears of the general authorities when they first receive their calls. I know it's a hard and soul-searching time for them, and they often feel humbled and unworthy as they accept their new responsibilities. But then it has always seemed like they are fine after that. They grow into their calling and everyone starts to love them and they become powerful, confident servants of God. So I guess it never occurred to me that they might keep feeling overwhelmed and inadequate! Or start to feel that way again! It's a little sad to think that they have to keep feeling inadequate when from an outside perspective they are so great! But it's actually very relatable, because as Elder Eyring says elsewhere in the talk, "the more faithful service you give, the more the Lord asks of you." 

In some ways I hate that idea of lifelong progressively greater responsibility (it's scary!). But in other ways, it's so comforting to know that, 1. when I'm struggling with something it seems like I should have figured out by now, it's probably actually a harder version of the difficulty I've faced before, and my capacity is increasing. And 2. Heavenly Father actually does continue to give aid equal to the situation, which means his help is increasing in proportion to what he's asking of me. Elder Eyring says:

The tough part of that reality, however, is that for Him to give you that increased power you must go in service and faith to your outer limits.

It is like building muscle strength. You must break down your muscles to build them up. You push muscles to the point of exhaustion. Then they repair themselves, and they develop greater strength. Increased spiritual strength is a gift from God which He can give when we push in His service to our limits.

…Time and again over your life, the Lord has been giving you the experiences to build strength, courage, and determination.

It's not an easy process, becoming a disciple of Christ. I see that. But it's the path we've started on, and now if we just keep walking, He will help us finish it!

Other posts in this series:

General Conference Talks Answer Questions!—by Rozy

Some of the field trips

I told you we were doing weekly "field trips" this year. So far the trips have all been to Thanksgiving Point (where we have a membership), since it is free and fairly close! There is a lot to do there and it's been fun to do it at a more leisurely pace, knowing there is no hurry. I love watching and being with these little kids, and I love the talks we have together. I hadn't realized how often the older kids monopolize the conversation (not intentionally, but just because they have so much…I don't know, so much going on and so many thoughts about things and so little time for the often inane things small kids want to go on and on about)—and it's been very sweet to slow down and talk with these little ones and hear their surprisingly perceptive gospel questions and see their curious minds at work! I love them so much.

Playing "animal doctor"

Djanuary

(I don't know why I called it Djanuary. But I was thinking about books my dad read us when we were little. And one of them was "Djingo Django" by Sid Fleischman. Maybe I was remembering that.)

January usually seems so LONG! And maybe it did this year too. I really can't remember, now that we're halfway through February and I'm looking back on it. Now it seems like it flew by! Here is a very assorted assortment of pictures. First, some of the snowflakes which we are all so busily working on in the picture above. (We did them during the week after Christmas this year, and it was fun.)

The shortest and longest Advent

First dinner all together after getting home from Quebec!

Advent season feels like it takes place "after Thanksgiving." So with Canadian Thanksgiving being way back at the beginning of October, it seemed like we could start thinking about Christmas extra early! When it snowed in Quebec and the Christmas lights were up, it felt very Advent-y indeed!

But then we drove back to Utah at what felt like "the beginning of December," and it took us almost a week, and by the time we unpacked and caught our breath and I looked at the calendar, I was astonished to see that Christmas was next week! (I'd thought all along that we'd have about two more weeks, but I should have known we wouldn't—Malachi's birthday is two weeks before Christmas and we'd been traveling for that.) So in that way, it felt like we really only got one week of Advent!

Well, luckily the Christmas presents had mostly arrived as I'd ordered them online (Sebastian had stacked the boxes in a big pile in my bedroom) and, as it was a weird and different year with different fun things to do, we only had a few more Advent things that felt like they had to happen.

First up—Malachi's (late) birthday! Seventeen! He had his cake even later than his birthday dinner and presents (I think it was nearly January by the time we got to it). AND, I told him we couldn't have his usual angel food because it takes twelve egg whites and I couldn't even find eggs at the store! (And when I could find them they cost practically a year's salary.) So, poor boy, he had to pick a different cake. But here he is looking pretty content with it.

Pray always

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Afternoon Session of the October 2008 Conference.

There are several memorable talks in this session. Elder Wirthlin's "Come what may and love it," which everyone loved and still quotes all the time (me included), Elder Holland's "The Ministry of Angels" [it's SO good; I'm not going to write about it but it's definitely worth a re-read!] Elder Christoffersen's talk about building Zion, and Elder Bednar's "Pray Always." As usual, these talks seem to have only gotten better over time! 

I'd forgotten that this is the conference where Elder Bednar talked about our morning prayers being a form of "spiritually creating" our days before we actually "physically create" the experiences of those days. I feel like that's a concept I just heard recently and have kept intending to think more about and implement. Pretty embarrassing to realize I've been intending to do so for over 17 years now🤦🏼‍♀️. Maybe I also heard about it from someone else? Anyway, here is the relevant passage:

We learn…that the spiritual creation preceded the temporal creation. In a similar way, meaningful morning prayer is an important element in the spiritual creation of each day—and precedes the temporal creation or the actual execution of the day. Just as the temporal creation was linked to and a continuation of the spiritual creation, so meaningful morning and evening prayers are linked to and are a continuation of each other.…

Morning and evening prayers—and all of the prayers in between—are not unrelated, discrete events; rather, they are linked together each day and across days, weeks, months, and even years. This is in part how we fulfill the scriptural admonition to “pray always.” Such meaningful prayers are instrumental in obtaining the highest blessings God holds in store for His faithful children.

I love that idea of our prayers all being linked and building on each other. Someone in Relief Society the other day mentioned that she "opens" her prayers in the morning and, although of course she has to move on with her day and take care of other things, she doesn't say "amen" until the night prayer, so that anytime she has a free moment she sort of just takes up where she left off. I always worry that my prayer somehow won't be as good until I've said "in the name of Jesus Christ," but I still like the idea of it all really being one day-long prayer. I also heard someone else say once that she makes sure to say "in the name of Jesus Christ" at the beginning of her prayers…so if she gets interrupted or has to cut off abruptly, she has already made clear in whose name she is praying. Interesting ideas, both of them, but most of all I just like the concept that our hearts and minds can continually be turning back to prayer all day long, and as Elder Bednar says, even midday and in crucial moments, we

discern heavenly help and strength and humbly recognize answers to our prayer. Even in that moment of recognition, we offer a silent prayer of gratitude.

I also really liked this insight:

Just as expressing gratitude more often in our prayers enlarges the conduit for revelation, so praying for others with all of the energy of our souls increases our capacity to hear and to heed the voice of the Lord.

Though I know I have improved significantly in the past several years, I want to continue to improve the power and effectiveness of my prayers, and this talk seems like a great place to start. I will try not to take seventeen more years to get working on it!

Other posts in this series:

What General Conference Teaches Us—by Jan

A courageous decision to hope

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Morning Session of the October 2008 Conference.

None of the passages I liked this week seem like they teach anything revolutionary. But as always, my experiences at this season of life make them seem more meaningful to me than they used to. I've had two friends with heart-wrenching circumstances this week, one enduring the sudden loss of her husband and another experiencing a church membership council. My heart has ached for both of them in their particular challenges. At the same time, I have rejoiced in the way "looking unto Christ in every thought" can make every difficulty more bearable. As I've imagined what sorts of fears and doubts might be going through my friends' minds, there is literally not a single one of them that isn't improved and lightened by the reality of Jesus' sacrifice for us. His mercy with our faults, His understanding of our circumstances, His victory over sin and death, His ability to heal us, His power to send angels to our aid. I'm so grateful that, though what I can do for my friends is so small, what Jesus can do is so great!

With those thoughts in my head, Elder Uchtdorf's words about hope become even more beautiful:

Hope is a gift of the Spirit. It is a hope that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the power of His Resurrection, we shall be raised unto life eternal and this because of our faith in the Savior. This kind of hope is both a principle of promise as well as a commandment, and, as with all commandments, we have the responsibility to make it an active part of our lives and overcome the temptation to lose hope. Hope in our Heavenly Father’s merciful plan of happiness leads to peace, mercy, rejoicing, and gladness.…

There may be times when we must make a courageous decision to hope even when everything around us contradicts this hope.

I love that idea—that when we "against hope believe in hope," we are being not naive, but courageous! It's so easy for me, when I'm facing something hard and discouraging, to feel foolish about my former hopes. I think, "I should have known it wouldn't be so simple. How could I have gotten my hopes up like that? How could I have been so dumb as to think things were getting better/working out/going to be okay?" It's so easy to let go of hope. I don't know why disappointed hopes are always accompanied by that "I'm so dumb for believing" feeling. I'm sure that's Satan trying to take away our hopes.

Anyway, but it's a lie! Elder Uchtdorf says hope is a "courageous decision" and I'm going to try to see it that way from now on. It's not "refusing to face reality"; it's having the vision to see a truer reality! The joyful reality of Jesus Christ overshadows any other despair that seems so real to us in the moment. And I want to share that hope with the people around me if I can. I want to let my mind "catch hold upon this thought of Jesus Christ" (as Elder Andersen talks about) and allow that thought to give me, and those around me, that "infinite power of hope" Elder Uchtdorf promises.

Other posts in this series:

The Sacrament: A Precious Gift—by Jan

Lest we forget, lest we forget

Perhaps you are all thoroughly tired of Quebec posts, but I persist! This is the last one, I think: a little collection of details about the house and city, which we can read and smile at when we are old and grey. (Not so far off.) I think the kids will like remembering these things someday.

1. About the shape and character of the city:

Willa Cather wrote this about Quebec:

The way has always been prepared

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Young Women's Session of the April 2008 Conference. 

I found a new favorite scripture this week in Doctrine and Covenants 3:1. I don't know why it's never struck me so forcefully before, but right now I love it:

The works, and the designs, and the purposes of God cannot be frustrated, neither can they come to naught.

!!!!

They CANNOT be frustrated! They CANNOT be for nothing! God has a work and a design and a purpose for me, and it CANNOT be frustrated. No matter how weak I am, no matter how badly I mess things up, no matter what Satan does to me and those I love, God's design for my life will prevail, if I let Him prevail! What more do I need to know in life than that? All I have to do is keep turning to God and his beautiful, wonderful, perfect plan for me will be made real in my life!

President Eyring gave a beautiful talk in the Young Women session that is a second witness of this:

…You have been protected and watched over by your Heavenly Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. They know you. They know all of the forces and individuals around you. They know what is ahead of you. And so They know which of the choices you make, which of the desires you decide to satisfy, and which of the circumstances around you will make the most difference in keeping you walking in the light. I testify that by the Spirit of Christ and by the Holy Ghost, you may walk confidently in whatever difficulties will come. Because you are so valuable, some of your trials may be severe. You need never be discouraged or afraid. The way through difficulties has always been prepared for you, and you will find it if you exercise faith.

Other posts in this series: 

Testimonies that light the way—by Jan

One Last Miracle

 

We planned at first to leave in the early morning on the Monday, but looking at the weather and other logistics, decided to leave on the Tuesday instead. It turned out well because that gave us one more non-Sunday day to do things—like get poutine one last time! We packed and cleaned like madmen so we'd be mostly done and free to have fun on Monday.

Sunday, after we went to church and said goodbye to everyone there, we were all very sad. We cheered ourselves up with my chicken soup. ("In June I saw a charming group/Of roses all begin to droop./I pepped them up with chicken soup!")

There was a snowy, blowy storm that night. We were happy to get to see it.

Je me souviens

Every time we walked along the streets of Quebec City, explored the neighborhoods, or drove through the villages up and down the river, we saw churches. Beautiful, towering, prominent, empty churches. It was strange to me, and then interesting, and then unsettling—almost haunting. I wanted to understand it, so I read about Quebec's "Revolution Tranquille" in the 1970s, when the Catholic Church's influence in Quebec fell from pervasive to almost nonexistent. Church programs were turned into government programs, a huge church bureaucracy became government bureaucracy, and the entire character of the province changed overnight. The numbers are almost unbelievable:

• 95 percent of the population went to Mass weekly in the 1950s, but only 5 percent do so today. 

• The birth rate went from 40.6 births per 1000 in 1909, to 8.8 in 2023.

• The abortion rate ("voluntary termination of pregnancy") went from 1.4 per 100 births in 1971 to 40.2 in 2002.

• In 2003 (this was the earliest I found numbers for; it was probably higher later) there were 2746 churches in Quebec; by 2022, 713 of them had been demolished, closed, or converted into something else.

I think most people in Quebec aren't bothered by those statistics. They see it as progress, and consider themselves well rid of religion's controlling hand. Obviously I'm not qualified to discuss the ins and outs of Catholic influence in government; I'm sure you could make a case for corruption and overreach and coercion and whatever else. Perhaps church and state were too intertwined, and individual Catholic leaders may well have been as power-hungry and prideful as any politician. But, also obviously, I am sympathetic to the Catholic church, our sister church in Christ, and I think about all the generations of faithful people who built those thousands of churches scattered through every town and every village in Quebec. Surely there were people who kept the faith because they had their own connections to Jesus Christ; people who had many children not because they were "forced" or "intimidated" by the church, but because they loved God and loved their families. People who had generations of religious belief in their blood; who looked for miracles; who served and sacrificed because they chose to put God first. People who would be horrified by what their grandchildren and great-grandchildren have forgotten.

Joy comes in moments

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Afternoon Session of the April 2008 Conference. 

Elder Ballard gave the sweetest talk in this session! I remember him becoming softer and sweeter after his wife died in 2018, but I guess he was sweet all along and I just didn't know it! In my memory, he was stern and intimidating all the time, but now that I re-read them, his talks really aren't like that at all. Yet another thing I got wrong as a young person.

This talk is called "Daughters of God" and you can really sense how much Elder Ballard loves and admires the women in his life. He mentions using hand puppets to entertain his kids in sacrament meeting. And he shows genuine understanding for all kinds of situations women face:

There is no one perfect way to be a good mother. Each situation is unique. Each mother has different challenges, different skills and abilities, and certainly different children. The choice is different and unique for each mother and each family. Many are able to be “full-time moms,” at least during the most formative years of their children’s lives, and many others would like to be. Some may have to work part-or full-time; some may work at home; some may divide their lives into periods of home and family and work. What matters is that a mother loves her children deeply and, in keeping with the devotion she has for God and her husband, prioritizes them above all else.

He also says this about the demands of motherhood:

Through my own four-generation experience in our family, and through discussions with mothers of young children throughout the Church, I know something of a mother’s emotions that accompany her commitment to be at home with young children. There are moments of great joy and incredible fulfillment, but there are also moments of a sense of inadequacy, monotony, and frustration. Mothers may feel they receive little or no appreciation for the choice they have made. Sometimes even husbands seem to have no idea of the demands upon their wives.

You should read the talk yourself, because he gives some beautiful (and very wise, I think) advice to husbands about supporting their wives, and even talks sweetly to the children saying "pick up your toys, thank your mother for meals," and so on. But my favorite advice he gives is to young mothers, and it is very simple:

Recognize that the joy of motherhood comes in moments. There will be hard times and frustrating times. But amid the challenges, there are shining moments of joy and satisfaction.

I think I am not a "young mother" anymore, which is strange, because I still have young children and I don't feel like I've mastered motherhood sufficiently to be considered a "non-young mother." Ha. But maybe that is why I can now see the profoundness and the truth in the statement "the joy of motherhood comes in moments." I was thinking about it in the first decade of parenting, but I think it has only become more meaningful to me in the second decade, as I've seen both how fleeting and how anchoring family life can be. As a "young mother," maybe I would have heard that statement and said "Joy in moments? I don't want just moments! I want joy always! What's the point of all this work if all I get is moments?" But now I think I get it. Moments are the form in which joy comes. Those moments aren't lessened by their brevity; in fact, they are deepened by it. And because the "shining moments" are glimpses of a better and truer world, they can come even during times of the most painful and exhausting "mortalness." They can't replace those hard things. They come in and through those hard things. They help you endure the hard things with your gaze on what life is really about.

Maybe this is true to some extent for everyone, but I can testify it is especially true for mothers. I don't know if I could have grasped it earlier than I did—perhaps you can't really feel it until you've lived it for a while. But it's interesting how different certain tasks of mothering feel to me now—now that I can see an end to them. This semester I've been taking the little kids on "field trips" while the bigger kids are at rehearsal for their Choir. I've often had to do that; entertain the young ones while taking the older ones somewhere. It used to feel so pointless and exhausting. Sitting in the car or at the library trying to keep them entertained, the baby screaming in a carseat or on my lap nursing, the toddlers constantly needing to find a bathroom, the preschoolers being noisy or fighting or asking me for help with everything, and all I wanted was to read my own book for a second or be able to string two thoughts together! I haven't forgotten how hard it was, and I don't minimize how hard it was! (And of course I don't have babies now, and that makes these times much simpler.) But though I'm still busy, I just don't feel those resentful or exasperated or panicked feelings as much now. I don't constantly feel like I should be doing something else. I am more peaceful about just watching the kids, talking with them, sitting there and experiencing those moments with them. I know they won't last forever. And I can feel and believe they won't last forever and it actually makes me so sad! I've learned to more easily recognize the beauty in those small, ordinary, boring, even frustrating little moments where my children truly want or need my presence. I'm still not always as patient in them as I should be! But I now know, deep down, that these moments really are the building-blocks of joy.

Other posts in this series:

Giving and Becoming—by Rozy

Power to Overcome—by Jan

The Last Walk

I'm a great one for "last walks," it seems. I've gotten in the habit of praying while I walk or run, and now I feel I can't face any big event or important change without having a good long walk and talk with the Lord about it. I feel downright unsettled until He and I have had our time together and I've poured out to Him all the things I'm feeling—doubly so when there's a lot of uncertainty or fear or sadness mixed in. Before we came to Québec, after we came to Québec, when we moved from our old house, before each baby was born, during miscarriages, whenever I get a new calling—whatever it is, you can bet I will be out walking or running to try and make sense of it all.

Of course I say plenty of prayers on just regular old everyday walks too—but I become very sentimental and especially remember these significant "last" or "first" ones! This walk was beautiful; such a gift on the last morning in Quebec. There was new snow and the sky was clear and brittle, and the sun rose and turned everything a cold pink and blue. Oh, I miss this city.

Eglise St. Matthew

Looking back down the hill on Rue Honoré-Mercier. The wind is always bitter on this street—I'm not sure why; maybe the tall buildings make a sort of tunnel for it?

To express my deepest identity as a woman

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Morning Session of the April 2008 Conference. 

I loved this part from Sister Susan W. Tanner's talk:

I take great delight in my role as a nurturer, which allows me to express my deepest identity as a woman. I never fail to be struck by the way that women, young women, and even little girls seem to have an instinctive interest and ability in nurturing. It is not only a mother’s primary responsibility but also part of our “individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose.” To nurture is to teach, to foster development, to promote growth, to feed, and to nourish. Who would not shout for joy at being given such a blessed role?

In today's world there is a lot of confusion about what "identity as a woman" even means. It seems so shortsighted to me when people in the trans movement reduce womanhood to "liking pink" or "wearing high heels." But equally ridiculous when women limit their own capabilities by saying things like "I'm not really the nurturing type." Of course women have many and varied talents! Of course all of us also have areas in which we need growth! But we also can count on the fact that as women, we all have the potential to be like Heavenly Mother, the ultimate nurturer! 

So I like the truth expressed in the order of Sister Tanner's statement here—our deepest identity as women is expressed through nurturing. So the identity is who we are or can be—strong, capable, smart, perceptive, powerful daughters of God. And how we express those traits is by caring for and loving those around us! In other words, as women we use our strength, intelligence, abilities, perceptions, and power to serve and nurture others. And it doesn't matter if we feel like we're "good at" doing it; of course none of us are that good at it without practice. We learn it by doing it; we develop all of those traits as we do it. Nurturing is the process by which we grow into the kind of woman our Heavenly Mother is! 

It reminds me of what people sometimes say to me when they learn I have ten children (or when they learn that I homeschool them). They say: "Oh, you must be so patient." Or "Oh, you are a saint." It's so funny to me because it is SO untrue. My ten children make absolutely sure that I will never feel patient (as I sometimes assumed I really was before becoming a mother!). Homeschooling shows me in great and painful detail all the ways I am NOT a saint. But…the one true part is that I do think that these roles as mother and teacher are shaping me and letting me practice patience in ways I wouldn't necessarily do otherwise. I am able to "express my identity" (or more accurately develop my identity) as a patient person by stepping into roles that demand a patient person. Maybe eventually I'll really get there.

And that is what being a woman really is, I think. It is willingly assuming the role of nurturer to nourish and serve those within our stewardship, and it is rejoicing in the growth that comes as we do so. I agree with Sister Tanner: "Who would not shout for joy at being given such a blessed role?"

Other posts in this series:

True Religion—by Rozy

Modern-day Prophets—by Jan

Dogsledding

At a Relief Society brunch in Quebec, Daisy and I were struggling through in French talking to one of the ladies, and she told us she owned nineteen dogs! I thought maybe we misunderstood that number, but she confirmed…oui…dix-neuf! She told us that she was saving up money so that she could take her dogs and drive to Yukon territory to live. I thought she said she was living in her car, or maybe the dogs lived in her car, but I wasn't sure.

Then she said, "If you want to, you can come visit me and ride the dogsleds." 

I said, "Oh, that would be so fun!" but it was one of those moments where I wasn't really sure if that was an actual invitation or just an imaginary "sometime" or if there was some Quebec etiquette about what she really meant. But then she typed into Google Translate on her phone so I could read in English: "It would be criminal to come to Quebec and not do this." 

Well. That seemed clear. I said "Yes! But…we leave next week!" 

"Come on Saturday morning," she said.

So I copied down her address, and she gave me a bunch of qualifiers like "it's near there" and "look for the green mailbox and then turn to the other side" and "there is a road going off the main road…" which I just prayed I would remember. Lots of people in our branch said they didn't speak much English but when I got talking to them and the need was great, they'd break it out! But this lady, Mylène, really did not speak English at all, so I kept repeating everything she said back to her slowly in French as a question, just hoping, hoping I had understood it all correctly. She lived forty minutes out in the country, across the river through Lévis, and I felt there was a good chance we would get lost!

Later in the week Mylène texted and asked if we could help her put up a big tarp/shelter when we came, which I was actually relieved about because it felt like we would be less of an imposition if we were helping her. And she said "I will have a fire in case the children get cold." So, Saturday morning we got up and dressed as warmly as we could. The kids didn't have snow pants or boots (we hadn't had room to bring any), but they wore multiple layers of pants and socks and I hoped it would be enough! It was only five degrees outside!! (That's -15 C.) One of the coldest days we'd had yet.

Clementine did NOT want to wear the lion hat. She was very sad about it.

But we gave her Malachi's bally leopard to hold in the car (he is snuggling in my hat here) and that cheered her up!