We must continually look up

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Morning Session of the October 1977 Conference.

Last week I was in Germany with Sam while he was giving a workshop there. Ziggy and Malachi came with us too. We had such a great time, but because I was often on my own with a new baby and a 9-year-old—in a big city, riding public transit and trying to find my way around—not to mention it being a foreign country where I don't speak the language—I was offering up fervent prayers for help and protection many times a day! As we waited for a train one day, I prayed again that we'd get on the right train and make the right connection, and then I found myself adding sheepishly: "I know I've been asking for a help a lot lately, and I just barely asked this same thing yesterday, so I'm sorry to keep bothering you—I'll try to be more self-sufficient next time!" And several other times, too, I felt like I should apologize for praying over such small things. "I know it's not that big of a deal…sorry to bother you with it…and it's fine if you don't want to do it…" 

Later, as I thought about this, I wondered why I felt so apologetic. I suppose it was partly that I didn't want to seem ungrateful, like I only wanted God to DO things for me all the time. As Howard W. Hunter said, 

If prayer is only a spasmodic cry at the time of crisis, then it is utterly selfish, and we come to think of God as a repairman or a service agency to help us only in our emergencies.

Yes. I hate to think of doing that. I want to make sure I'm not using prayer as a magic talisman rather than as the door to a two-way relationship. And I always try to express gratitude when I pray.

But then President Hunter continues, and clarifies that the real problem with the "God as repairman" thinking is not that it calls on God too MUCH, but that it asks too LITTLE:

We should remember the Most High day and night—always—not only at times when all other assistance has failed and we desperately need help.

And I realized that another reason I felt apologetic is that I felt like it was too much, to need help SO constantly. I knew God would help me, but I felt hesitant to ask "too often," and these circumstances of being so alone and helpless and ignorant, in a place I knew so little, were making me feel like it WAS too often.

And THAT made me realize that I could do better at internalizing the command to "pray always." What does that commandment really mean to me, if I'm feeling, during times of heightened uncertainty, like I'm calling on God "too much?"

It just made me stop and ask myself how much I am really relying on God. I certainly would LIKE to have His help more. I need it. And I do always pray multiple times a day. So why do I feel like I'm overdoing it when I ask repeatedly for guidance and protection several days in a row? Maybe it has to do with the urgency of it. I really FELT my own helplessness, and knew I needed God with me right then!

But…shouldn't I always be calling on Him that much? Shouldn't I always be acknowledging my helplessness? I may get complacent and forget it, but aren't we always wanderers in a strange land? Shouldn't I be seeking guidance and help navigating my way through life even when things feel more comfortable and familiar and routine?

President Hunter says:

My voice shalt thou hear in the morning, O Lord; in the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee, and will look up.” (Ps. 5:1–3.) 

Perhaps what this world needs, as much as anything, is to “look up” as the Psalmist said—to look up in our joys as well as our afflictions, in our abundance as well as in our need. We must continually look up and acknowledge God as the giver of every good thing and the source of our salvation.

What amazed me most about my frequent, and heartfelt, pleas for help last week is that they were all granted. So many things worked out perfectly. So many things that could have gone wrong—didn't. Of course we had a few missed trains, and moments of worry, and periods of disappointment or frustration. But underneath it all, every time in the multiple times I pleaded for Him, God was there. Yes, I felt a little embarrassed about wanting Him so often, but I needed Him too much to let that stop me from asking—and because I asked, He answered. His comfort came.

I don't want to seem like I'm usually gliding easily through life without the need for God's help. I DO ask for and need help every day. But I'm not sure I'm "continually looking up" in the way I was last week, surrounded by unfamiliarity and keenly aware of my inadequacies. And if I'm not, I just wonder what blessings I'm missing out on? What power could I access? What things—what extra, extravagant, surely-THIS-must-be-asking-too-much sorts of things—would God be willing to grant me, if I swallowed my pride, looked up, and just asked him?

Other posts in this series:

• Practice Makes Tolerable by Nathaniel Givens
• Holiness has Qualia by G
• Are We Haters or Forgivers? by Jan Tolman

2

Red Barn 2017

We go here every year! Eleven years running, and that just amazes me. I feel like I've said everything that can be said about it, and taken every picture that can possibly be taken, but that doesn't stop me…you can't argue with tradition!

We squeezed this visit in between so many other things, with a hastily-packed picnic of rolls and turkey for dinner, during an impossibly busy week. Every year I ask myself if it's worth the drive, but deep down I know it's just something that must be done. I like comparing the years and sizing everyone up as I look through the old pictures. Last year was SO hot. And this year we were so cold! And who knew, last year, we'd have a little Ziggy with us now? I thought I had taken hardly any pictures because it was so cold and dark and Zekey was fussing in the baby sling and my hands were cold. But then when I got to editing them there were millions, of course.

We bought (and ate) three dozen apple cider donuts, because that's the right thing to do.

4

Leaves and a baby

Although we did get out with my brother to ride the ski lift, I was feeling sad that I'd missed so much of Fall! After Ziggy was born, even though I know we could have done more sooner, and lots of people DO, I've been deliberately trying to slow down and not do much or go anywhere (because there are enough things we have to do whether I like it or not, and as I told Sam, once you go back to doing stuff after a baby, you can't ever UN-go back!). I know I was lucky to have a little flexibility with our schedule. And it's been nice. BUT, it also made me feel like I just missed all of September! I was in another world. And usually by this time of year we've been on lots of Sunday drives and picnics to enjoy the Fall weather, and I was missing that too (even though we had done some of it!)

Also it's just hard to get everyone together in the same place these days. And I'd kind of given up on the idea this year. But one day a few weeks ago, I was going to drive Seb to piano lesson and choir, and then I'd have a couple of hours of waiting around, so I decided to take Ziggy and go up the canyon just with him! 

As I was driving, I was asking myself why I like doing this so much. What does it matter if I have MORE pictures of pretty trees and pretty leaves and pretty scenery? I do this every year and I have tons of pictures. They're even in the same places a lot of the time! Do I really need or want more? 

6

And the lad be not with me

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Priesthood Session of the October 1977 Conference.

In the Priesthood Session of this Conference, Elder Marion D. Hanks gave a talk to the men about the importance of being not only good fathers, but also good mentors to children who don’t have good father figures in their lives. As I read, I thought about how much I love the church leaders that teach my boys. Even though my boys DO have a good father, they get so much benefit from getting to know and learn from these other good people too!

When I was young, the bishop of my ward challenged all the adults to learn the names of all the children and youth in the ward. He put up pictures of every family (and their names) in the church to help people. I remember laughing at it a little with my friend. “Ha! WE don’t care if the adults know our names or not! What does it matter?”

But it’s funny. Even though I KNEW it was “just because” the bishop told them to, I couldn’t help but feel kind of important when people knew who I was. And I liked it. Old ladies (who were probably much younger than I realized! Ha ha) would say hello to me in the halls. They would ask my parents about me when I was gone. And they STILL ask her about me, even now! I don’t know if all of it stemmed from that specific push to get the adults knowing and caring about the youth, but it does seem like there’s something valuable, if unquantifiable, about those connections.

Even though I loved being Young Women's president several years ago, and I learned that the youth aren’t as intimidating as they first seem, now that I’m out of that calling I still tend to tell myself that the youth don’t WANT my attention; they’re way too cool for me. But—reading this talk and remembering my bishop's challenge made me think maybe I’m neglecting a chance to do something good. Even if it’s just learning all the kids' names and saying hi to them! Or saying something beyond “hi” when my kids' friends are over.

Elder Hanks says,

“…How wonderful it is to have someone who has lived a little longer and learned to love, to reach out and help us, and then help us help others.”

Then my favorite part, because I’ve never read this verse with this context:

In the scriptures is a magnificent sermon in a single line…: “For how shall I go up to my father, and the lad be not with me?”

Our Father wants us to bring as many of His children back to Him as possible. Maybe we should all feel that kind of responsibility—an unwillingness to return to our Father without helping those around us get back too!

Other posts in this series:

• A Regular Dad by Nathaniel Givens
• The Doctrine of the Family, and the Family by G
• The Difference is in Obedience to the Right Voice by Jan Tolman

2

Remember how much we love those we love

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Afternoon Session of the October 1977 Conference.

I really liked Elder Paul H. Dunn's talk from this session, "We Have Been There All the Time." It was on the sentimental side…but that fits my mood these days. His title comes from the idea that if we, like children on a long car trip, are constantly asking, "Are we there yet?" "How long will it take?" about our life's journey, we will miss out on the simple moments that we should be enjoying along the way. He talks especially about the need to appreciate our family members for who they are, and to enjoy them in spite of everyday annoyances. I liked the introspective questions here:

Why do those sudden moments of clarity, when we realize how precious our loved ones are, come so rarely? How do we let ourselves get caught up in faultfinding, digging, or scolding at those who are nearest our hearts? Is it ever worth it? As C. S. Lewis once advised, “Take care. It is so easy to break eggs without making omelettes.”

With a new baby in my arms all the time, I'm constantly thinking about how fast time is passing, and how fleeting the years really are, so I was nodding along in agreement with everything Elder Dunn was saying. And I was thinking about how often, even as I'm panicking because baby Ziggy is growing and changing so fast, I'm forgetting that all the other concurrent stages are passing too, for good or ill.

I saw the following graphic in an article this week (there's some bad language at that link, sorry), and in my current mental state it just about put me over the edge. Here's what the article says about the graphic:

I’ve been thinking about my parents, who are in their mid-60s. During my first 18 years, I spent some time with my parents during at least 90% of my days. But since heading off to college and then later moving out of Boston, I’ve probably seen them an average of only five times a year each, for an average of maybe two days each time. 10 days a year. About 3% of the days I spent with them each year of my childhood. 

Being in their mid-60s, let’s continue to be super optimistic and say I’m one of the incredibly lucky people to have both parents alive into my 60s. That would give us about 30 more years of coexistence. If the ten days a year thing holds, that’s 300 days left to hang with mom and dad. Less time than I spent with them in any one of my 18 childhood years.

When you look at that reality, you realize that despite not being at the end of your life, you may very well be nearing the end of your time with some of the most important people in your life. If I lay out the total days I’ll ever spend with each of my parents—assuming I’m as lucky as can be—this becomes starkly clear:

 

Red shows the days already spent. Grey is the days left. Isn't that terrifying?? And it made me feel so strange to think that with my own kids, once they move out of the house, our meaningful time together will not just be partly over—it will be mostly over. Probably like 90% over, even if we are lucky enough to live fairly close to each other, even if we are lucky enough to live long healthy lives. And of course, we know that the end could come much sooner than that for any of us. Really sobering to think about. Am I taking advantage of this time with the people I love?

Elder Dunn says,

Yes, even amidst our meetings and our commitments we need to really see: to see the way his eyes wrinkle when he laughs, see the tilt of her head as the light catches her hair, remember his dash of humor. Maybe when things get in the saddle and ride us, we need to step back for a moment of clarity. We need to remember why we are doing all of this—remember how much we love those we love.

Then he continues,

Concern yourself first with individuals, with relationships, with loved ones. What else really matters? Don’t imagine yourself, regardless of who you are, busier than the Lord, who puts souls first above everything else.

I wish I could have a flashing neon sign constantly reminding me of this. Or maybe a beeping alarm that delivers a mild electric shock every time I forget it (ha ha). Because I'm constantly forgetting it! But I need to somehow remember, as Elder Dunn says, WHY I am here on this earth, in this family. I need to find that clarity that shows things as they really are, points me back to Heavenly Parents and Jesus Christ, and reminds me just how fiercely and constantly I should be loving those I love.

Other posts in this series:

• The No Vote by Nathaniel Givens
• A Pentecost from Modern Church History by G
• A Special Moment of Our Own by Jan Tolman

5

Squaw Peak leaves

It's been several years since I drove the road up to the Squaw Peak overlook, but Sam and I found ourselves with a semi-free afternoon and only the younger kids at home, so we decided to take the drive! The canyon was packed with people (all looking at the Fall leaves, I suppose—and taking family pictures!), but it didn't diminish the glory of the leaves! They were at their prime, and for some reason the trees ALL seemed to be "peaking" at once. Usually it seems like some of the trees are lovely and colored, and some are already dead and brown, and some are not-quite-at-their-best red yet, and some are not even changing colors at all. But this year everything was uniformly (well, not really uniformly—there was so much variation in color and intensity!—but all of it beautiful) bright and amazing. We couldn't stop exclaiming over it!

I walked down this little wooded path and, other than when I got stung or bitten on the bottom of my foot by some tiny insect, causing me to wake half-mad with itchiness for the next several nights, I felt like I was walking through a cathedral! Color and light everywhere.

5

Triptychs

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

The babylove continues around here. Ziggy has learned to produce a rare but winning smile, and everyone is constantly trying to elicit it. And he still has fur on his ears, little darling.

• 

• 

• 

He also has the most trusting, confiding gaze. It makes you feel so important when you hold him, because he looks at you like you're the most fascinating and wonderful person in the world!

2

Sundance with Philip's family

Our trip to ride the ski lift at Sundance when Philip and Allison come to visit has become a long-standing tradition! I wasn't sure we'd manage it this year, with Ezekiel being so new and some colder weather than usual. But we did. All the older kids helped watch the younger ones, and Ziggy slept peacefully on me in his sling the whole time! I don't think he even knew we were on top of a mountain. I should have gotten a picture of him so he'd believe me someday! Maybe Philip got one.

There was snow at the top! All the kids picked it up and made their gloves wet and their hands cold, of course. Then we warmed their hands by holding them on the side of the warm building (there is a restaurant there at the top, but we didn't go in).

1

A joint quest for the beautiful

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Morning Session of the October 1977 Conference.

Painting by Sam. Inspired by this day, and a companion to this poem.

One winter evening soon after I started dating Sam, we were driving out to the store. The sun was setting and the clouds were glowing with bright colors. As we got out of the car and I started to hurry inside, Sam held back, wanting to stay and look at the beautiful sky a little longer. I remember realizing, as I stood outside with him watching the oranges and pinks in the clouds fade, that Sam's love of the natural world said a lot about what kind of person he was. He noticed and appreciated his surroundings! He seemed to find endless delight in the sky, the clouds, and the way the light fell on the mountains. And as we continued dating, I saw more and more evidence of his love for the natural world and his desire to seek after beauty in it. It was a big part of what attracted me to him and made me think we would do well together.

16 years later, we have not had a completely blissful marriage. We've learned that marriage requires great effort and patience and forgiveness. We've had periods of difficulty or busy-ness or preoccupation when looking at sunsets together has been the last thing on our minds. But when we've managed it, this looking upward, finding the beautiful together, has been one of the best parts of our marriage. The ability to talk about and appreciate the world around us in a similar way can bring us close in ways few other things can.

That's why I loved this passage from Elder James E. Faust's wonderful talk on marriage (read the whole thing!). He says:

In the enriching of marriage the big things are the little things. It is a constant appreciation for each other and a thoughtful demonstration of gratitude. It is the encouraging and the helping of each other to grow. Marriage is a joint quest for the good, the beautiful, and the divine.

In a marriage, it's hard not to feel disconnected from each other sometimes, especially when circumstances compel you to spend a lot of time apart, having different experiences and prioritizing different things. But the effort to make it a "joint quest" can bring us closer again. If I find myself without Sam when experiencing something lovely and profound—watching a lightning storm, seeing a shooting star, hiking among wildflowers—I almost feel like I haven't truly enjoyed it until I've at least told him about it! And when we make the effort to share one of these experiences together, the effects are deepened and enlivened because of the other person's presence. I love Sam's attention to detail, his knowledge of how and why the world looks and works the way it does, his curiosity, and his determination to seek out truth and beauty. When we find time to focus on it, our joint quest for "the beautiful" seems endlessly renewed and endlessly renewing.

I know Elder Faust didn't mean "beauty" in purely the literal sense. And I know people's preferences and interests vary. I don't suppose a mutual love of skies and flowers is essential to a good marriage (though I can't imagine there's anyone that doesn't find something fascinating in nature). I think my Sebastian finds "the beautiful" in a well-planned highway overpass or a smoothly-running irrigation system. But I think the point is to FIND it! Wherever you can. To seek and find the beauty and wonder in life, and to share that quest with your husband or wife. I hope Seb can find a wife who, if she doesn't already see it, can LEARN to see the wonder in those same types of things he loves. (As his mother, I've loved the enlarged attention and circle of interests that HIS interests, and my other kids', have brought me!) And I hope that Seb will do the same for his wife, because I know that will bring them both closeness and happiness. And since all goodness and all beauty come from God, a stretching toward those things will bring a marriage closer to the divine as well. I'm so grateful for the joy I find with Sam in this joint quest!

Other posts in this series:

• Marriage is a Quest by Nathaniel Givens
• The Tragic Cycle of Mankind by G
• Wickedness is Happiness Said No One Ever by Jan Tolman

2

The storm before the calm

In the weeks before Ezekiel was born, I kept texting my friend Nancy about my absolute certainty that the baby would never come. It's easier to decide to believe this, rather than to get your hopes up for an early birth, but in this case it was also sincere: I just wasn't ready to admit that the summer was already over and everything was going to change so soon.

However, practically the very moment we got home from our Solar Eclipse trip, I decided that I couldn't live with our laundry room for another day. We'd been meaning to do something about it for years. Saving money and getting bids and thinking about shelving. But suddenly none of these hypotheticals was enough. Even clean, the room was a depressing hodge-podge of school supplies and cleaning supplies and rock collections and allergy medicine and piles of stuff to take to D.I., and it's a very small room. Lately whenever I added actual laundry to the mix, I had been shedding actual tears of frustration. Behold:

6

Random Thoughts, incoherent postpartum edition

I'm in a weird place right now, thinking-wise. More often than usual, I'm sort of alone with my thoughts (I say "sort of" because there are always people around, too, needing things and saying things…which is why none of those thoughts have time to go anywhere). Still: twenty-hour day/night blends where I'm holding Ezekiel and thinking, thinking, thinking. But it's all so fuzzy and most of it is not really coherent at all. I can't grasp anything. I can't take a thought to its conclusion. They all just…drift around as if my brain is a giant snow-globe, being shaken up every now and then.
It has meant a lot of worrying, strangely. I usually manage to keep this under control through busy-ness and general strictness with myself (what I read, what I dwell on), but it does come in waves, and this last few months the swells are higher than usual. Maybe because of so many hours awake at night?

8

Opposites, but both are necessary

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week we take a break from the historical Conference Sessions to write about the Conference we just had, the October 2017 General Conference.

I've said before that I like looking for paradox when I want to understand some gospel concept better. I think I first got the idea from my Uncle Hale, who, as a physicist, loved that sort of thing. But lately I'm realizing that what is interesting and exciting on a theoretical level can be just…difficult, in real life. Trying to make sense of the very real conflict that comes from forced decision-making: things that must occupy the same spaces of time, and yet cannot be done simultaneously. Wanting multiple things that can't coexist, and thus confronting all the places where my will conflicts not only with God's will, but even with…itself. Wanting to be stretched, but not being sure which direction to stretch in.

I ran across a good blog post recently which included this quote by Rabbi Dov Lev:

Success in life is predicated on two distinct undertakings: On one hand, an organism must advance and expand. On the other hand, it must protect and nurture. These two undertakings are opposites, but both are necessary for success. . . The same is true on every level of societal and personal existence.*

*The quote above goes on to say, "It was with this theme that God created two distinct genders, to work together in unison to accomplish their ultimate goals," and the linked post explores this theme. I like it, but that's not really where I'm going with this post.

This sums up exactly the conflict that disturbs me—I would say "lately," but it's ongoing, really. How does one "advance and expand" without doing so at the expense of "protecting and nurturing"? We need both. Our children need both. How to have self-awareness without despair? Hope without entitlement? Contentment without stagnation?

I needed General Conference this month.

So many speakers addressed this balance of opposites. I could sum up the message of Conference (my personal message, I mean) as "Optimistic self-improvement." Or maybe: "You're doing great! Now do better." Ha! My notes are scant (I was nursing a baby pretty much nonstop), so these quotes are just paraphrases. But the theme was everywhere!

Protect and nurture. Advance and expand. Somehow, I need to do both.

President Uchtdorf:
The kingdom is full of people who feel inadequate…Blessings come not because of our abilities but because of our choices. 

President Eyring:
When we are focused on love of God and others, we become fearless.
[Reading the Book of Mormon daily] has produced a sense of optimism about what lies ahead, even as the commotion in the world seems to increase. 

Sister Bingham:
Knowing Christ better helps us know ourselves better. 

Sister Oscarson:
Some of our most significant service opportunities are small and close to home. 

Sister Jones:
Doubting our own worth is an indulgence we can't afford. 

Elder Hallstrom:
Do you have the faith not to be healed? 

Elder Christofferson:
Let us not be content with where we are, but neither let us be discouraged. 

Elder Holland:
I would hope we could pursue personal improvement in a way that doesn’t include getting ulcers or demolishing our self-esteem. That is not what the Lord wants for children or anyone else who honestly sings, “I’m trying to be like Jesus.” 

Elder Rasband:
Sometimes we consider changes in our plans as missteps on our journey. Think of them more as first steps to being on the Lord’s Errand. 

Sister Eubank, quoting President Hinckley:
You don’t … build out of pessimism or cynicism. You look with optimism, work with faith, and things happen.

Other posts in this series:

• Social Media in General Conference by G
• The Essence of the Gospel is Service by Jan Tolman

4