Had they only looked up

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Morning Session of the April 1981 Conference.

I've been thinking about this story, told by President James E. Faust, all week:

I should like to begin by relating a marvelous vision Joseph Smith the Prophet had concerning the Twelve Apostles in his day, which has profound significance for me. Heber C. Kimball recorded, “The following vision was manifested to him [Joseph Smith] as near as I can recollect: 

“He saw the Twelve going forth, and they appeared to be in a far distant land. After some time they unexpectedly met together, apparently in great tribulation, their clothes all ragged, and their knees and feet sore. They formed into a circle, and all stood with their eyes fixed upon the ground. The Savior appeared and stood in their midst and wept over them, and wanted to show Himself to them, but they did not discover Him.” 

A message that can be inferred from this is that, because the Twelve had suffered so much, had endured so greatly, and had so exhausted themselves in leading the battle of righteousness, they were bowed down and did not look up. Had they only looked up they might have beheld the Lord Jesus, who wanted them to see him, weeping over them, suffering with them, and standing in their midst.

I love the story because it has that reassuring footprints-in-the-sand-ish quality to it (but expressed in a more concrete way): God was there! He was there all along! They just didn't see Him! It's what I always want to believe.

But here's what I would like to understand: How, exactly, can we "look up" to see Jesus in our midst? Is He always there? Is He only there when we are worthy enough? What makes the difference in allowing us to see Him? I mean, obviously He is always "there" in the sense that He cares about us always. But there are so many times I'm searching for evidence of His presence. I feel like I'm looking for it so hard sometimes, I'm straining to see things that aren't even there. Sometimes I worry that I'm looking too hard. Like I need to just relax and accept that sometimes He doesn't WANT me to see Him; He wants me to learn to walk by faith. But in this story, it's taken for granted that Jesus DID want them to see Him. So…does He always want that? And it's always on our end that the blindness comes?

Some of these questions are addressed in the talk. President Faust talks about personal integrity and the pursuit of holiness. He talks about how things like repentance and consecration give us the necessary confidence to "look up" and see God. (That summary doesn't do his talk justice, so you should read the whole thing.) After reading through the talk a bunch of times, I think President Faust is saying that God DOES always want us to see Him nearby, but it's our personal holiness that makes the difference and allows us to actually "look up" and see.

It also seems, though, that it is not ONLY a matter of worthiness—President Faust makes a point of saying of the apostles in this story,

No one need assume that the Twelve who failed to see the Savior because they stood with their eyes fixed upon the ground had in any way failed in their labors. As a body they continued strong and steadfast in their ministry. Their discouragement was only temporary. Their labors were heroic; their acts were bold and courageous.

That seems to imply that "looking up" is also an act of will, or of deliberation—it's something we have to remember to do, even when we are otherwise living good lives. President Faust mentions "a feeling of personal worth and dignity born of the knowledge that each of us is a child of God" in connection with looking upwards, so maybe thinking "I am His beloved child. He DOES want me to see Him" would be a useful mindset to cultivate. This quote also seems to suggest that discouragement, no matter how natural or justified, is an "eyes down" sort of feeling that keeps us from seeing the Savior. He doesn't blame us or condemn us for feeling it. But He wishes we wouldn't keep our focus there.

I said earlier that it was comforting to think of Jesus watching over us even when we don't see Him. And it is! But I would rather "look up" like President Faust says we should. I would rather SEE Jesus Christ there in my life and KNOW he is weeping and suffering and rejoicing with me. So I want to keep learning how to lift my eyes and see what the Savior is wanting, trying, to show me! I would hate to miss seeing Him because I failed to look up.


Other posts in this series:

• The Church is for the Family by Nathaniel Givens
• I Believe in Marriage by G
• Relief Society and Nehemiah's Wall by Jan Tolman

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More than sweet voices

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the General Relief Society Session of the October 1980 Conference.

I loved this women's session! Sister Shirley Thomas was my across-the-street neighbor all through my growing-up years, but by the time I was old enough to get to know her, she wasn't in the Relief Society General Presidency anymore. I knew that she had had that position, but I'd never read any of her talks! So it has been really fun for me to read them and hear them in her familiar, sweet, gentle voice.

She and her husband, Bob Thomas (as we knew him—"Robert K. Thomas" in his professional circles) were such lovely people. We often had Family Home Evening with them, and they would tell us stories of their time as mission presidents in Australia. My brothers and I loved staying there talking until late at night, laughing and none of us wanting to leave. We watched the Olympics at their house every two years (since my family didn't have a TV), popping in at all hours hoping to see the sports we liked best. We watched BYU games too, or church broadcasts or anything else. They never made us feel like we were inconveniencing them! After my brothers left home, I mowed the Thomas' lawn, and also frequently "grandma-sat" for Sister Thomas' mother, Sister Wilkes, when they had to go out. On these occasions Sister Thomas would make a special effort to buy something she knew I liked—macaroni and cheese—for me to make for our meal. It was clear she wasn't very familiar with it and had never made it herself, because she always bought some strange kind—microwaveable, or something; I don't even know where she found it!—rather than the usual kind in a box.

Anyway, Sister Thomas' kindness and gentleness come through in her talk, but she was so much more than just a sweet-voiced woman. All of these ladies were! They were smart and determined and forthright. They understood and allowed for differences among women. They spoke strongly in behalf of education and lifelong individual development. It makes me so annoyed when I hear people make statements about how the church is "finally" addressing the needs of single sisters, or how the church "always used to teach" that women should "only be in the home." Hogwash. Every one of these old conferences has contained compassionate, understanding talks that confront the hard realities of life, make allowances for all kinds of circumstances, and show a grasp of the world just as "nuanced" as anything we see today. One of the talks, given by a single sister, was a beautiful and honest reflection on the difficulties of single life, and the way that Relief Society, properly functioning, helped her fill those holes and ease those sorrows by bringing purpose and perspective. It was easily as sensitive and inspiring as any of the talks we hear now! I love discovering all these amazing women from a previous generation!

Here are some of the statements I loved from this Women's Session. From Sister Shirley Thomas:

A young woman came to our office recently to talk about Relief Society; and when asked if she might like to help with a project we had to do, she replied, “I would like very much to do that, but I should tell you that I will ask some hard questions.” We could tell her that we do not turn from hard questions. Fortified by the true principles of the gospel, Relief Society women must accept the challenges of the day. 

…The emphasis on education given in the Relief Society program is designed to help a woman make a place in her life for learning, for learning as much as she can, and for developing her gifts and talents. What she learns will expand her influence for good as she then teaches and blesses others. 

…Children depend upon mothers to tell them what is wrong—what is wrong and right about words, about life, and about the world with which they are trying to cope. I think it is not possible for a mother to be overtrained for her role.

From Sister Mary Foulger:

As a mother I have made mistakes. Regardless of culture or country, we all make mistakes in our mothering. But through repentance and the atonement of Jesus Christ, and by continually communicating his love, miracles can happen, wrongs can be righted. Never give up. Never let your arms hang down.

From Sister Addie Fuhriman:

I am aware of the struggle it is for one to be hurt, lonely, or in pain, and to have to wonder if there is someone who knows you well enough that he or she will respond to you. But if you assume that part of another’s responding to your needs lies in your willingness to share your ideas, feelings, and values, then faith becomes a blessing that fortifies you in sharing yourself with others. Sharing and responding are the process of sisterhood. 

…It seems impossible at times to give my heart to someone when there isn’t someone who has made that same commitment to me. Without that reciprocating, human commitment, it becomes easier to give one’s heart to a task, job, or perhaps inanimate object. Nevertheless, the comfort and companionship of hope can allow you to give self and love and will lessen the risk associated with the act of commitment. Concepts embedded within lessons of service, personal relationships, forgiveness, and daily acts of love can help you say, “My heart is yours”—and say it to one or many.

And from Sister Barbara B. Smith:

Be sensitive to life’s transition, both for yourself and for others.

I'm still pondering on what that last statement means, exactly. It struck me as important, but I'm not sure I fully understand it. Maybe it means that life's transitions are hard, and we should be understanding when others go through them? Or that as life's transitions come, our focuses change, and different things become important—so we should be sensitive to the differing needs of our sisters? I'll have to keep thinking about it.

It's obvious, though, that these women were impressive and inspired—prophetesses, we might say—and in tune with the needs of their day. Which, it turns out, are not so different from the needs of our day! I'm learning a lot from them.

Other posts in this series:

• Having Faith to be Planted by Nathaniel Givens
• When We Gather Israel, We Gather Ourselves by Jan Tolman

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The correlation between large and small

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Welfare Session of the October 1980 Conference.

One of the things that's been interesting in reading these old General Conference talks is thinking about how this is the counsel my parents were hearing when they were raising their family—raising me. I have realized how many things were part of our family culture because they were being encouraged by the prophets. I knew my parents were faithful in the church. But I don't think I realized just how many things they were doing as specific responses to specific directions from church leaders: things like having a garden, the canning and sewing and mending my mom did, the way they took care of our yard, the way they helped us keep journals. Now looking back, I'm amazed and inspired by how seriously they took the prophets' counsel, and how conscientiously they made it part of our lives.

One thing that I liked from Sister Barbara Smith's talk, "Follow Joyously," was the following sentence:

Let us make our kitchens creative centers from which emanate some of the most delightful of all home experiences.

I love that and endorse it wholeheartedly! I've heard people express dismay at how food-centered our church celebrations tend to be. I understand that it can be difficult for those with allergies or other food issues. But in my own life, "some of the most delightful of all home experiences," both in my family of birth and my family now, have been centered around cooking and eating together. I feel blessed that this has been the case. And I love that Sister Smith called the kitchen a "creative center" for producing such experiences! It makes the routine task of cooking and making meals (so many meals! Never-ending meals!) seem almost…impressive!

Sister Smith also said:

[A good homemaker] understands—as we each should—that life is made up of small daily acts. Savings in food budgets come by pennies, not only by dollars. Clothing budgets are cut by mending—stitch by stitch, seam by seam. Houses are kept in good repair nail by nail. Provident homes come not by decree or by broad brushstroke. Provident homes come from small acts performed well day after day. When we see in our minds the great vision, then we discipline ourselves by steady, small steps that make it happen. It is important to realize this correlation between the large and the small.

I read an article once talking about how thinking that something was just "a drop in the bucket" was a useless way of looking at things. "Sure, it is just a drop," the article said, "but it is IN THE BUCKET! It was out, and now it is in, and that means something!" That idea stuck with me and it's helped me try to do small things to improve life (like carrying an item one step closer to where it goes, even if I don't put it all the way away yet; or tidying a small corner of the room even if the whole thing is still mostly messy) with a little less existential despair. With so many kids, I feel like it's very important and necessary for me to have this perspective! It's so easy to feel that nothing will EVER be truly clean, the meals will never end, and the noise level will never drop below "too loud to hear oneself think." It's so easy to think, "What's the point in doing something that will almost immediately be UNdone?"

But Sister Smith's point is so good. There IS a correlation between large and small. In fact, when it comes to our daily acts, small is really THE SAME as large, just…in a different time frame. That is, the sum of those small things BECOMES the big thing over time. A small effort to make things a little bit tidier, a little bit more peaceful, a little more "delightful" in the kitchen—will contribute to a happy and satisfying home life for me and for my family. I can now see, as I talked about at the top of this post, how BIG the benefits were from all my parents' small efforts to do exactly what the prophets said they should do. They were small things and probably didn't feel impressive to my parents. As a child I didn't even notice them, but just figured that was normal and "how things were." But those small efforts have now spanned generations and are still blessing me in my life now!

Another thing that fits into this theme was from Elder Douglas W. DeHaan's talk, “Is Any Thing Too Hard for the Lord?” He tells a really cool story about bringing the crops in from their welfare farm (you'll have to go and read it!) and then he shares this insight:

Most of the blessings of the Lord seem to come in the second mile. The first mile is doing what is expected of us. As we move beyond the first mile in faith and determination, we may draw down the powers of heaven, but this only so far as we are in spiritual condition to do so.

I guess this is really this same statement from a previous conference, in different words. But it struck me a little differently—like maybe this version emphasizes our own agency a little more. It's not just that God blesses us when we endure more than we think we can. We can also CHOOSE those blessings by going farther or persevering longer than we really want to. I've had lots of experiences (like I wrote about in that link above) with being forced to go beyond what I thought were my limits. But I like the idea of deliberately saying to myself, "Well, this feels extra hard. So I'm going to have an even better attitude about it so that I can 'draw down the powers of heaven' to help me." Or, "I wish I had gotten an answer to my prayers by now. But I'm going to keep asking and trusting even longer so I can qualify for the 'second-mile' blessings."

And really, that principle shows the correlation between large and small too. The ways we get to "the second mile" are so small. They're mostly things like "hold on a little longer" or "just keep being patient" or "be willing to do a little more than was required." The second mile isn't a whole new journey! It's just...going on with the same thing a bit further, without giving up. And each small step on that path takes us closer to becoming like God!

Other posts in this series:

• Tithing: A Blessing From the Lord by Jan Tolman

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Mineral Basin Wildflowers

The week after we went to Lake Catherine, the girls and I had a free afternoon, so we decided to go up to Snowbird and see more flowers! (We have been here before, years ago, but not on this exact hike.) This time we rode the ski lift up the hardest and steepest parts, so it didn't even feel like much of a real hike! It was so pretty and peaceful on the lift. I love riding ski lifts because they are so quiet! You feel like you're a bird flying. It's even better than the tram (which is also fun, and doesn't have a height requirement, so it's good if you are bringing babies!…but I was glad not to be. Ha ha).

It was REALLY crowded and busy the day we went, a Friday. We had to park waaaay out at the end of the lot, and we felt lucky to find a place even there! And of course, once we'd walked in to the lodge, I realized I'd left my money in the car, so I had to run a mile back for it. It was a hot day, but a little more bearable at Snowbird than at home…and even nicer once we got up the mountain a little.

There was a baby duck in the pond on the way up. Cute.

From the ski lift, we could see the red and blue trams going along to one side of us.

Once we got off the ski lift and looked at the view, we walked through the tunnel to the other side of the mountain, into Mineral Basin. And there…

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Lake Catherine Wildflowers

This year as I was trying to find a weekend to go hike and see the wildflowers, I saw that the calendar was filling up and there was only one free Saturday! And even that was not so VERY free, but free enough that we could slip away for a morning. Then when the day came, as we were driving up the canyon at 6 a.m., accompanied by many other cars, I realized that I always try to AVOID going on a Saturday! I don't know what I was thinking. Weekdays are much better! But, luckily, we went early enough in the morning that we found a parking spot at the trailhead, and the trail wasn't too crowded. Next year I'll plan better, though!

It's been just the girls and me on this hike for the last couple years, and we love that, but this time Abe wanted to come too, and we were happy to have him with us! He's great company, and a good driver, too. The road up the canyon was newly paved, so he had a great time driving around all those winding curves.

The sunrise was pretty!

It was good of Abe to come on this hike with us. He could have run the whole thing five times in the time it took us to do it once, but he stayed and talked with us most of the way up, and then ran down and waited for us a long time at the bottom! What a great guy. I like him.

I brought a different camera lens with me than I usually bring on this hike, just for variety's sake. I couldn't get the same sweeping vistas, but it was interesting trying to compose new pictures within the views I'm so used to seeing. Made me look at things a little differently.

And it was nice for close-up pictures of the wildflowers!

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Ordinary, Miraculous

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Afternoon Session of the October 1980 Conference.

I've written before about my realization that something doesn't have to be mysterious or incomprehensible to be miraculous. But it's something I have to relearn from time to time. I'll experience something overwhelming and amazing, and then later I'll be tempted to look back on it and think, "Well, of course I must have exaggerated it. It's easily explained by coincidence, after all!" I have to fight that feeling and remind myself that transcendent experiences must be acknowledged in order to be repeated!

One of my favorite quotes on this subject is by the physicist Richard Feynman:

I have a friend who’s an artist and has sometimes taken a view which I don’t agree with very well. He’ll hold up a flower and say “look how beautiful it is,” and I’ll agree. Then he says “I as an artist can see how beautiful this is, but you as a scientist take this all apart and it becomes a dull thing,” and I think that he’s kind of nutty. First of all, the beauty that he sees is available to other people and to me too, I believe… 

I can appreciate the beauty of a flower. At the same time, I see much more about the flower than he sees. I could imagine the cells in there, the complicated actions inside, which also have a beauty. I mean it’s not just beauty at this dimension, at one centimeter; there’s also beauty at smaller dimensions, the inner structure, also the processes. The fact that the colors in the flower evolved in order to attract insects to pollinate it is interesting; it means that insects can see the color. It adds a question: does this aesthetic sense also exist in the lower forms? Why is it aesthetic? All kinds of interesting questions which the science knowledge only adds to the excitement, the mystery and the awe of a flower. It only adds. I don’t understand how it subtracts.

I thought about this quote when I read Elder Gene R. Cook's talk, "Miracles among the Lamanites." He recounts various remarkable experiences that he witnessed during his time in South America, and then he says:

Even though the Spirit has manifested itself in the lives of these people in many miraculous ways, the common way—the most effective way—continues to be by the still small voice simply going forth, converting them “in their inward parts” by the thousands.

When I was younger I used to think this viewpoint was a little bit of a bait-and-switch. "Oh yes, if you're faithful you'll see miracles!* (*If by miracles you mean boring ordinary things.)" But now I get it. The only ordinariness comes in the attempt to describe these miracles, in the inadequacy of words and mortal experience to capture what is eternal.

But when you are the one caught up in the miracle itself, there is nothing ordinary about it, as there is nothing ordinary in the cellular respiration of a flower, as there is nothing ordinary in the power of faith. When the miracle is upon you, your spirit KNOWS it has been touched and changed, and your heart fills with the joy of it. It is only second-hand, as we deny, downplay, or belittle ours and others' recollections, that the miracle becomes tarnished or common in our eyes.

In the Catholic liturgy, one uses the words "ordinary" and "common" to refer to the parts of the Mass that are ordered and communal—"ordered" meaning things are just as they should be; "communal" meaning they are shared among the saints. I can see those same meanings in some of our "ordinary" miracles like Elder Cook talked about: things like the way our Sunday meetings come together week after week, each person helping in his small calling, one brother teaching another brother's children, one sister doing extra where another less-experienced sister does less. It might seem like hyperbole to say "Every time we have a beautiful church service, it's a miracle"—but it is truth! We share the work as a community, following the order God has set out for us, and the result is miraculously more than the sum of its parts.

I know that sometimes it seems so annoying to have to deal with people! I can talk myself into being a misanthrope, for sure. I can barely even tolerate myself sometimes, let alone the quirks of others! But occasionally I feel like I get a glimpse of God's perspective—when I reach out to help someone, or join a ward fast, or learn of a friend's quiet struggle, or sit in a leadership meeting, or become humbled by someone's service to ME. And whenever I get a real glimpse into the individual workings that make up the body of the church; the private efforts and personal sacrifices that are behind our public acts of service—I have to echo Richard Feynman's sentiments: "It only adds to the excitement, the mystery and awe of [God's plan]. It only adds. I don't understand how it subtracts."

Elder Cook concludes:

Let us not forget the simple truths—those godly traits, the weightier matters of the law, that have been described… They are the very basics, the essence of the gospel, and possession of them in great abundance by Latter-day Saints will be in the end the greatest miracle of all. Yes, miracles have not ceased. Today is a day of miracles. We believe in miracles. The Latter-day Saints may expect miracles according to their faith in Jesus Christ.

We may expect miracles! But only if we get over the idea that they only "count" as miracles when they are removed from the everyday. After all, if we are to become like God, shouldn't we get used to seeing what he sees: every moment charged with beauty and meaning, every cloud shot through with gold and silver, every person magnificent and beloved and divine?


Other posts in this series:

• Learning Maturity from the Mature by G
• See That Ye Do Them by Jan Tolman

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