Impossible unity

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Priesthood Session of the October 1979 Conference.

In his talk "The Governing Ones," Elder William R. Bradford says:

The challenge of governing the family is to so love, teach, and motivate its members that their personal decisions will be to unite one with another in the common purpose of following God’s plan.

When I read this on one level, it seems pretty straightforward: we're supposed to "love, teach, and motivate" so that our children will want to follow God. But read more closely, it seems funnier (and truer): this is THE CHALLENGE of governing the family. It would be like if he said "The challenge of baking cookies is to create a cookie so delicious that every person will love it." Well…yes. That is the challenge, isn't it! And a pretty big challenge at that, with each person being so different and having different preferences and all.

So yes, as parents we really do want our family members to DECIDE for themselves to be unified and eager to follow God's plan. And I'm not saying it's not a good goal…just that it is indeed a very, very big challenge. And it involves a lot of uncertainty and a lot of trust that the things we can't do ourselves, God will bring to pass in His own way. I'm realizing that more and more. I want so much for our children to catch the vision. To see for themselves how much better it is to live in unity and love! And how much happier we would ALL be if we could constantly treat each other as God would want us to, and follow His commandments! But no matter how much I try to teach it, exemplify it, push toward it—I just can't force it. (Nor, I realize, would God want me to.) And sometimes our family (myself included) seems so far from catching that vision…it feels like we will never get there. I guess it's a good thing we have eternities to keep working on it.

It probably seems like I'm always going on and on about unity. I think it's like the unattainable girl that the nerdy boy in movies is always fantasizing about. I just imagine how great it would be to have the children looking out for each others' welfare instead of trying to torment each other. Or where they cared so much about their siblings that they were willing to give up their own wishes to make the others happy. Oh, occasionally I catch glimpses of things like that. But they are definitely not the norm! And I know they're young and it's okay. I've had a lot more years of practice than they have, and I'm still not able to live these principles as well as I want to! But that's part of what worries me. As I think about the future of our family, I know it's inevitable that some of us will choose paths that the others don't agree with! And some of those paths might even be objectively (in God's eyes) the wrong ones! And there's nothing I can do about it! And how can we be unified in "the common purpose of following God's plan" if that's the case?

I really don't know. But somehow we are still supposed to keep hoping and working for that ideal. In his talk during this same conference session, President Kimball said:

…our people in the kingdom will need to become even more different from the people of the world. We will be judged, as the Savior said on several occasions, by whether or not we love one another and treat one another accordingly and by whether or not we are of one heart and one mind. We cannot be the Lord’s if we are not one!

I guess, like a lot of things in the gospel, this unity is something that seems impossible, and IS impossible, by any rational standard. It's not something we can create. But it's an outgrowth of living the principles of the gospel—keeping our covenants, repenting, persisting—and the miracles God will unfold in our lives as we do so.


Other posts in this series:

• The Governing Ones by G
• The Brethren Say It Best by Jan Tolman

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Gobblers, Twirlers, Riders

I make about six loaves of bread every week (no, it doesn't last all week) using the no-knead bread method (and this oven). One time when it had just come out of the oven, I said I was tempted to just bite into the whole loaf, and Sam said I should, and I said, aghast, that I couldn't…but then I did. It was great! There is something so good about the texture of it when it's torn instead of sliced. I felt it should be documented.

For the last four babies or so, I don't think I have ever pumped even a drop of breast milk for them! I just haven't been away from them enough that I needed to. But I've been accompanying for the children's choir this year, and I have to pump so that Ziggy can have a bottle while I'm gone. The other kids really love to feed him and watch him happily gulp down the milk.

Sebastian makes the best games for the other children. This was his Airplane. He made tickets and an emergency exit plan, had everyone pack bags of things to entertain them on the journey, turned on the fan when it got too hot, and walked up and down the row serving drinks and snacks. It was probably just as good as a real plane (or better—more space!).

Can you believe Teddy is driving now? It seems like just yesterday that he was a baby!

Speaking of which, we had donuts for Ziggy's half-birthday. (Then we ate his. Yum.)

And:

I don't know why he's in this box,

The very twirliest possible dress,

A bunny dressed up in clothes,

Cold winter sun-haloes,

and Whee!

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On nursing and "long enough"

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Afternoon Session of the October 1979 Conference.

Sometimes when I'm nursing Ziggy, he will start to latch on and suck at the nipple, and then he will suddenly pull his head back and look at me accusingly and start to cry. So I sit him up and burp him, or I try him on the other side, or I bounce him for a minute and then see if he will try again. Usually that works, but every once in awhile he just repeats the pattern again and again: sucking for a second, stopping, pulling off, crying. And I know exactly what the problem is! My milk hasn't let down yet, so he is sucking and not getting anything, and that makes him so sad that he cries and pulls off, and then of course there is no stimulation to TELL my milk to let down, and the cycle continues.

I know many mothers have harder problems with nursing. It's not too bad for us. If Ziggy really gets inconsolable and won't even try to nurse anymore, I can usually just use the breast pump for a couple minutes until the milk lets down, and then put Ziggy back on to finish nursing. BUT—during the periods where he is trying, and giving up, and trying, and giving up, and I'm frantically trying to relax (yes, I know it's a contradiction—ha ha) and visualize waterfalls and fountains of milk—I just feel so frustrated! Because it all seems so unnecessary, and I just want to MAKE Ziggy understand that if he would just keep AT it, just keep nursing and sucking, for just another minute or two, the milk is right there! It's so close, and so good for him, and there's as much of it as he could ever want—but he just needs to keep TRYING! And it will come! The milk will always come!

One time late at night when this was happening, and I was so frustrated and flustered by Ziggy's screaming, and trying to keep him quiet so he wouldn't wake up everyone else—I whispered to him, "Oh, don't you know that you are just inches away from being completely full and happy?! But you just have to make an effort! The tiniest effort!" And then I started laughing at myself because I was trying to reason with a baby, but at the same time I felt an overpowering feeling that Heavenly Father wanted to say the same thing—to me!

I had been feeling kind of discouraged lately, like the heavens were a little bit closed off, and I wasn't feeling the light and revelation I had been hoping for. And I was slightly grumpy about it, because I had been trying to put in all the effort I could—pondering, and praying, and reading the scriptures—and I felt like I really should have gotten an answer or at least—something—by now!

And then I thought of Ziggy rearing back his head and howling because he didn't taste any milk. And how useless and counterproductive it was for him to howl, when he could have just…kept nursing for another minute, and the milk would have come! And I realized I was Ziggy in this situation! And why was I howling instead of just nursing? God wanted me to have all the spiritual nourishment I needed—but it wouldn't come until I was willing to be persistent enough to work for it!

In the October 1979 General Conference, President Boyd K. Packer said,

Sometimes you may struggle with a problem and not get an answer. What could be wrong? 

It may be that you are not doing anything wrong. It may be that you have not done the right things long enough. Remember, you cannot force spiritual things.

"It may be that you have not done the right things long enough." How long is long enough? Well…only God knows that.

One more story: my husband Sam has a friend who left the church many years ago. Once this friend was talking to Sam and telling him about one night when, in great anguish of soul, he called desperately on God. The friend described his feelings of loneliness and acute need, and then he told Sam, "I prayed and prayed, but I felt nothing from God. And that's when I knew there was no God—or if there was one, and he would ignore me when I needed him that much, he wasn't much of a God anyway."

I felt so bad about that story when I heard it. I thought, "Well, why DIDN'T God answer? This friend needed Him! He was reaching out! How could Heavenly Father not reach back?" And of course, I still don't know all the reasons. People and situations are so complicated. Maybe it would have been too much all at once for this friend, to have a witness from God, if he didn't intend to really act on it. Or maybe there WAS a whispering from God, but he ignored it and later decided it hadn't happened at all. Or maybe something else entirely. Who knows!

But as I've gained more experience with revelation myself, I've seen SO many times that my answers and my comfort didn't come right when I expected or wanted it! It's almost more the rule than the exception! Yet at the same time—I feel like my testimony that God is always there for me is stronger than ever! I think it's because looking back, I see that my answers and my comfort and my blessings were always so close! And they were going to come! And they did come! They came as soon as I put in a little more effort and a little more faith. They came when I persisted a little past where I thought I could. And when they came, they came so abundantly that they were unmistakeable!

I'm not blaming Sam's friend, necessarily, for feeling abandoned when he cried out in his despair, and it seemed God was silent. While that is happening, it's so hard! I don't want to minimize that hardness. But I just wish he hadn't given up quite so soon. Because maybe he was like poor little Ziggy, sitting there and crying for milk; and all the while, it was two inches away, in abundance, just waiting for him—if he would persist a little longer in trying for it!

Other posts in this series:

• As You Persist, You Will Hear His Voice by G
• Simply Prophetic by Jan Tolman

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Paris: More landmarks and a bunny

The 30 minutes we spent near Sacré-Cœur was probably the most Spring-like half hour of our entire visit. The sun was out! And there were blossoms blossoming! It was lovely.

You get to ride a little funicular railway to the top of the hill. Guess who that was a hit with?

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Paris: the famous places

My favorite view of the Eiffel Tower is this one, down the Champ de Mars. We got there near sunset one evening when the sun had actually emerged for awhile! It was still cold, but the light on the bare trees was just lovely.

Of course we couldn't stop taking pictures. The shape of the Eiffel Tower is so graceful, and I love the way the sunlight hits it sideways!

Of course, Daisy had begged us to bring Tiny Eiffel Tower along with us, and how could we refuse? We are beginning to make a habit of this monument-matching. In fact, we had packed Tiny Arc de Triomphe too!

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Saint-Malo and Dinan

The morning of our day trip out to Bretagne (when we visited Mont Saint-Michel) began in the coastal town of St. Malo.

We were really happy to get to ride the TGV, France's high-speed train, which made the trip a lot shorter! Seb has loved the TGV (from afar) for many years now. And let's just take a moment to be grateful for the fact that the trains were running and no one was on strike! I was fully expecting to run into some sort of strike while we were in France, and we didn't (but I heard from a friend that right now, the train workers ARE on strike—for the next three months! So we wouldn't have been able to take the TGV at all, and we wouldn't have made it to Mont Saint-Michel! *shudder*), so hooray for that!

Seb pointed out landmarks of interest to Ziggy

But Zig preferred to do THIS for most of the time (when he wasn't nursing).

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Mont Saint-Michel

I think I have always wanted to visit Mont Saint-Michel. But I'm not sure why or how I even know about it. Maybe I had seen a movie filmed there? (I thought it might have been Twelfth Night, but it doesn't seem to be.) Or maybe my brother had been there? There's a St. Michael's Mount in Cornwall too, which adds to the confusion, but—at any rate—I've been dreaming about going to Mont Saint-Michel for years now.

The trouble was, I was afraid it was too far from Paris. I read that we could ride the TGV (which Sebastian had always been dying to do anyway—especially since Malachi got to ride the ICE!) instead of taking a lengthy coach tour, but then it looked like we'd have to catch a bus or another regional train and that sounded like more complication than I dared attempt with a baby. Finally when I was ready to give up on it, I found this little tour company that would pick us up from the train station and drive us around in a minivan! That didn't sound too daunting, so I signed us up. And I was excited that the tour included two other towns in Bretagne that I hadn't heard of, but that looked really cool when I looked them up: Dinan and St. Malo. (The post about those towns is here.)

We drove toward Mont Saint-Michel on the back roads, and it was so peaceful and serene, I couldn't believe it when our guide told us that this was the third biggest tourist attraction in France, after the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. 

It was a greyish and misty day. In the morning it had even been snowy, quite rare for this part of France, and when we got out of the shuttle bus that drives you across the bridge (private cars can't drive across), it was SO COLD. I think it might be the coldest I have EVER BEEN. I guess I should qualify that because I have been colder when I have to stay out in the cold for a long time (like in Moscow) or when I've been cold and wet…and this was better, because as soon as we were off the bridge and on the island itself, the wind wasn't so bitter, and the buildings blocked the cold air. But for those few minutes as we walked, I thought I might freeze into a big block of ice and they'd have to break Ziggy off of me with a pick-ax.

There used to be a causeway out the island and you could only cross at low tide. But now they've built a bridge (and a dam, which is somehow filtering out silt so it won't accumulate on the island and make it sink...our guide explained it to us but I'm not sure I grasped the details. Although Seb seemed to get everything she was saying, so I can't blame her English!). It's nice not to have to plan your visit around the tides! Although I would have liked to stay overnight in the area so I could watch the water go in and out. (I find myself very fascinated with tides since staying at this house, and the Bay of Mont Saint-Michel is an especially spectacular place to see them!)

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In which we go to Paris, I scold my readers, and Ziggy is not froid

A couple years ago, Sam got invited to do a workshop in Paris, and he said, "I can't do that unless my wife can come too." (Wasn't that good of him?) I couldn't come that year, but much to our delight, the people remembered him and asked him again, and this year we thought we could manage it!

It was a close thing for awhile—as my mom was in a bike accident and fractured her skull the week before we were to leave! (What kind of person leaves someone with a fractured skull to take care of four children??! I felt like a monster. But if you know my mom, you know she is almost superhuman. And she insisted she would be okay! Also, she has the most wonderful Relief Society, and they helped with meals and driving.) My big boys stayed home alone (under the watchful eye of more Relief Society sisters, bless them) and Sebastian and Ziggy came with us to Paris! So that's everyone accounted for. I think.

Ziggy was angelic on the plane ride to Paris. We had a direct flight, which was awesome, and it was at night, so he slept sweetly in his bassinet and cooed at people when he wasn't sleeping. We will keep our minds firmly fixed upon the wonder of that first flight whenever we are tempted to recall the flight home, about which the less said the better. (The nightmares may end. In time.)

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Already acquainted

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Morning Session of the October 1979 Conference.

President Kimball talked a lot about keeping a journal. I don't remember this personally, but I remember it second-hand because my mom really took that counsel to heart and taught it to her children. Every Sunday night she used to sit down with me and I would dictate to her about the events of the week. (I remember this, though I must have been very young, since it was before I could write.) I would save play tickets and napkins from wedding receptions and glue them into my journal too.

I kept up on my journal pretty faithfully until I was a teenager, and even then I had spurts of writing and catching up. But as soon as I got old enough to look back with embarrassment on my past self, I lost some enthusiasm for journal-writing. I thought a lot about the purpose of it. Why would I care later to read about these boring mundane events? And as for my posterity—writing for an imaginary audience of my posterity made my writing either impossibly stilted or drearily self-conscious. (I've talked about this before.) So it's been a struggle for me over the years, especially through some hard times I really didn't WANT to remember or record. Still, I've tried to find other ways to follow the prophets' (I know many besides President Kimball have spoken of it) counsel—things like this blog, family scrapbooks, letters to family members. And so I don't imagine anyone will find my life ill-documented…

But as I've gotten older, my heart has turned toward my ancestors more and more. I'm so interested in them: who they were and what they have to do with me. And I feel, sometimes, the lack of not knowing more. I have a friend who is very connected to her family history. She knows many stories of her ancestors. Certainly my mom tried to teach us about our ancestors too, and I do know some of those stories. But I don't feel I know THEM, the PEOPLE, the way my friend knows hers. We've been talking this week about how you can request the patriarchal blessings of your ancestors online now, and I've requested my dad's and my grandpa's, just to see what I can learn. But I'm not sure how else to come to know them. The small things I do know are often more puzzling than enlightening. Or I'm filling in so many blanks, I'm afraid I've got the big picture totally wrong. I don't know how to understand my ancestors in the context of the world they lived in—a world I know so little of. 

None of that is really answered in this quote by President Kimball, but it struck me as a blessing I would like for myself:

On a number of occasions I have encouraged the Saints to keep personal journals and family records. I renew that admonition. We may think there is little of interest or importance in what we personally say or do—but it is remarkable how many of our families, as we pass on down the line, are interested in all that we do and all that we say. Each of us is important to those who are near and dear to us—and as our posterity read of our life’s experiences, they, too, will come to know and love us. And in that glorious day when our families are together in the eternities, we will already be acquainted.

As I read this, I thought of what Elder Renlund said last week in Conference: that "when God directs us to do one thing, He often has many purposes in mind." And I'm not sure how this will be fulfilled. It seems like somehow doing family history and temple work (even if we don't find personal histories to read?) will advance that day when we and our ancestors will "come to know and love" each other. And maybe there are other commandments with that "many purpose" effect as well. Keeping a journal (however we manage that) might be one of them. I'm not sure how that will lead to more closeness with my family members who have already died. And I really can't envision my "posterity" wanting to know about ME at any point (though I'm willing to trust President Kimball that they will care). But somehow, it comforts me to know that God does want this for us. He has put us in families for a reason. And somehow, through His power, we are promised that we will get "acquainted" as generations of families on both sides of the veil—and even be able to love each other. It sounds nice.


Other posts in this series:

• O America, America by G
• The Pattern for Maintaining Spirituality by Jan Tolman

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Easter this year

It was a different sort of Easter this year. Although wonderful! We didn't dye eggs because it seemed too hard to fit in, with our church's General Conference on Saturday and Sunday. (Conference was just the best! As it always is!) We didn't go to my mom's house like we sometimes do. And the Easter Bunny visited a few days after Easter, so that was surprising...but it all turned out quite nicely, in the end.

I have this cute bunny wreath that I love. (Just wait till you see the bunny wreath I am planning to make…for next year. It will be furry.)

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Full of power and abundantly satisfying

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week we take a break from past Conferences to cover the General Conference that just took place last weekend, the April 2018 Conference.

When we were in Paris recently, I was thinking about this blog post (the metaphor of the stained glass window) and its relation to faith. The post talks about how stained glass windows are nothing very special from the outside of the church, but become breathtaking and beautiful from the inside, with the sun streaming in. Similarly, our faith is at its most beautiful from "the inside"—that is, when it is deeply and personally felt. To an outsider, religion may appear to be an unexciting part of some people's lives, no more notable any other interest or hobby. But from the inside, it is breathtaking and transformative when the sun shines in.

That's how I feel during Conference (or, during the parts where I'm able to listen, anyway…): like the sun is streaming in. I feel the spirit testifying of Jesus Christ, of His prophet, of my own need for improvement, and of the hope that I CAN improve. This time, I was amazed at the sheer number of talks testifying TO ME of several things I've been trying to learn more about.

I'm not going to talk about all the big announcements (plenty of time for that when we've had time to absorb it all a little better!). But I just want to highlight some of the moments that spoke most to my heart. Since I heard this talk, I always go into conference asking "What lack I yet?" For me, collectively, each of these moments added up to a powerful and unified witness of what I need to be focusing on and how I can grow closer to God.

• First, and maybe most memorable, was how I felt during the Solemn Assembly. I have rarely ever felt the Spirit so intensely in such an "everyday" setting (sitting in our family room with kids and toys scattered everywhere). I felt like the roof of the house had been blown off and there was a direct beam of pure Spirit flowing in from heaven. I felt like it would knock me over with its brightness. To me it was an amazing witness that President Nelson is indeed God's prophet on the earth.

• Elder Andersen described his feelings during the Solemn Assembly by saying "The Spirit of the Lord was full of power, and abundantly satisfying." That was a good (although inadequate) expression of what I felt, too. I'm grateful that I didn't have to be in the actual Conference Center to feel it.

• Elder Eyring said the Spirit brought "a feeling of light and quiet assurance." 

• Elder Ballard said that "to experience the joy and warmth of the Spirit," unblocked by worldly filters, is the power of the Sabbath! (I'm quoting these from memory and may have the wording wrong.) What I understood from that is that though the Sabbath is often described as having a renewing or "restful" effect on us, that blessing comes not through conventional means (in other words, it's not because we are having what seems to us like a "restful day" with less work and less responsibility)—but through miraculous means. When we dedicate the Sabbath day to Him, the Lord blesses us (miraculously) with a taste of what the Spirit could feel like all the time—if the cares and concerns of the world weren't always crowding it out. 

• Elder Renlund said that when God asks us to do one thing, He often has many purposes in mind. We might not know what all those purposes are until we faithfully do that thing. 

• Elder Taylor said "God sanctifies our most difficult days."

• Elder Wilson said we should expect daily guidance from the Spirit, and that God is eager to guide us. We are always just one prayer away from receiving that guidance again. Elder Wilson answered an objection I've heard before ("Isn't it slothful to expect God to command us in all things?") by saying that we are only slothful if we expect others to get revelation for us. When we seek to receive revelation for our own lives (as often as we wish!) we are "counseling with the Lord in all our doings"—just as He has asked us to!

• Reinforcing that, President Nelson said (quoting Lorenzo Snow) that it is our right to have manifestations of the Spirit every day. He said that God is SO WILLING to reveal his mind and will! And there is SO MUCH MORE that Heavenly Father wants us to know!

I want to know it! All of it! And I hope that I can say later, as President Nelson challenged, that this Easter Sunday was a defining moment in my journey to hear the Spirit more frequently and clearly! From the tastes I've had, I know that being filled with that spirit truly is a transformative experience: "full of power and abundantly satisfying."

Other posts in this series:

• The Bridge that Spans the Chasm by Nathaniel Givens
• Fatherhood in a Frolic by G
• General Conference April 2018: WOW! by Jan Tolman

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