Narrow demands of our daily routine

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Morning Session of the October 1987 Conference.

In our scripture study a couple weeks ago, we talked about how "to be learned is good if [we] hearken to the counsels of God." I was thinking about that and realizing how strong my natural tendency is to want only the "new and interesting" when I'm learning. Often, when I'm reading and come across a scripture or quote I've heard many times, my eyes just skip right past it without even meaning to! I think it's good to search for new applications of truth, but I liked Elder Dean L. Larsen's advice about not forgetting the basic faith that should sustain us:

I think I will not want to stifle a wholesome appetite for learning, for reaching out to new levels of understanding. But as I push toward these new horizons, I will want to come back always to the circle of my established faith, and I will continually nourish that faith with a prayerful study of God’s revealed truths.

Here's another part I liked:

Too often we permit the narrow demands of our daily routine to dull our appreciation of the beauty of God’s creations and the refining influences that are all about us. We fail to experience the fulfillment that comes from developing the gifts and talents with which we have been endowed. We do not draw close enough to the Lord to know him and feel of his redeeming love.

My visiting teaching companion (back in the days of visiting teaching) used to often tell me about when she was a young mom feeling trapped by "the narrow demands of daily routine." She felt like all she ever did was drive her children back and forth. One day her husband told her, "Try taking a different way home." So she did. She started driving different routes every day and she said just that little change would lift her mood and make her appreciate her surroundings more. I think about that often, and try to find ways I can do something similar. I used to have an alarm on my phone around 4 p.m. that said "Go outside and look up!"—sometimes just that moment of seeing sky and breathing the fresh air was what I needed to make it through the rest of the evening.

Anyway, I should start doing something like that again, since I do often feel like the demands of daily life leave me so busy and focused on moving from one thing to the next that all I can think, at the end of the day, is "What just happened?" I want to be more aware and intentional about what I'm thinking and doing—where my spirit is—in the midst of the many things that HAVE to be done.

Other posts in this series:

In Righteousness, Guided by the Lord—Jan Tolman

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The Kitchen Counter, revisited

It seems high time to again contemplate the Slice of Life that is our kitchen counter. I will just point out that a scene like this, contrary to what it may seem, does not take geologic eons to accumulate. This is the work of only a few days—perhaps a week—and some items were likely even removed during that time. Perhaps it will serve as a sort of anthropological study for those of you who have never seen this sort of thing (and to my Mom: if you're here, I encourage you to just click away quickly—this isn't a scene for your delicate sensibilities).

1. Recipe for sugar cookies, used to make heart-shaped cookies on Valentine's Day. (It's somewhat remarkable that the cookie cutters aren't still out—the box of cookie-cutters is notorious for being left out weeks beyond its day of use, probably because putting it away necessitates moving a bunch of rubbermaid containers AND the toaster, which task no one in his right mind will take on voluntarily.) The cookies, I will add, were very good—we tried a new sour cream frosting that was delicious and not too sweet.

2. Open bag of English muffins, with butter nearby for spreading. (Sam protests that these items had "just barely been gotten out" and shouldn't really count for this picture.)

3. Two rolls of tape; one packing, one duct (purple). Why? Why?

4. Bottle #1 of "Goo-gone kitchen de-greaser," near toy rolling pin.

4a. Bottle #2 of "Goo-gone kitchen de-greaser," near baking soda; one bottle alone apparently not having been satisfactory. Also toy banana. (The presence of these twin Goo-gones would be less offensive to me had they, in fact, been used to facilitate any goo going. I believe they, with their baking soda counterpart, were part of an attempt by Sebastian to remove dried paint from a door handle.)

5. Bag box, with bags in it (presumably).

6. Dremel bit, also enlisted (unsuccessfully) in the get-paint-off-the-door-handle project. Plus red flowered headband, removed mid-day from someone's hair (why? why?)

7. Ripped-off lid to box of "Stretch-tite" plastic wrap. Because why would someone take a moment to open the lid the right way, when he could just rip it off, damaging the built-in cutting blade and ensuring that the plastic wrap would forevermore have to be wrenched from the roll awkwardly and unevenly, as if by wild badgers?

8. Toy teacup. And fork. Since anyone who was small enough to use this teacup was also likely too small to reach this far onto the counter, we may deduce from the teacup's position that its relative age is somewhat older than the things outside of it, and it was pushed slowly inward as newer objects were added to the counter's edge.

9. Instant Pot. In use often enough that it's usually not worth putting away.

10. Unopened vote-by-mail ballot. One of two.

11. Crocheted piece of cheese. From this hamburger. Not strictly ON the counter, but included here since it probably fell off recently. 

12. Bib drying on the knife block, naturally.

13. Somewhat wilted vase of flowers. Can't bear to throw out, as they are so sunny and bright, and keep meaning to extract the wilted ones and refresh the bouquet.

14. Folder with copy of Sebastian's Eagle Scout Project papers. Second version of said papers, due to the Scout Office having LOST the first copy while we waited for months wondering what was going on. Being required to fill out a second set of Eagle paperwork, after one has already spent approximately 5000% more time satisfying bureaucratic demands than one had ever wished to in one's lifetime, ought to—in my opinion—qualify one, if not for actual sainthood, at least for a very desirable position in paradise. And encouraging/ galvanizing one's SON in the filling out of a second set of Eagle paperwork ought, obviously, to send a person straight to celestial glory.

15. Pink fur doll coat, on top of valentines.

15a. More valentines. And toy blender.

16. Rockhounding Utah, having been (erroneously) "cleaned up" from its usual place in the car.

17. Extension cord.

18. Lonely paper plate that didn't get used to take Valentine cookies to anyone.

19. Griddle, with orphaned laminator tray on top of it, topped by package of paper napkins. Second, different, package of paper napkins leaned artfully against the first, possibly for decorative effect. (Geologic dating principles can be used here, as in #8.)

20. Amaryllis, looking somewhat indecent with its splayed-out leaves.

21. Black bean cans (12) and green chili cans (12).

22. Paint tray with roller in it, from Sebastian's re-painting of the front door. Paint has, mercifully, been cleaned out of roller, but this is nevertheless a tableau that illustrates the well-known 80% rule ("No job given to children ever gets more than 80% finished without repeated nagging and/or the passage of a great deal of time"). Come to think of it, 4-5 things on this counter are illustrations of that rule.

23. Super Soaker, used first soberly and responsibly for our homeschool unit on Inventors and Inventions, and then furtively and unsanctionedly for the harassment of siblings. Sam wants me to point out that it's only on the counter because he removed it from the sink.

24. Vintage Slinky, also used for school. Did you know that the older slinkies are slightly wider and heavier than the new ones, and thus much more effective at walking down stairs?

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No pain is wasted

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Afternoon Session of the April 1987 Conference.

My favorite quote this week was Elder Adney Y. Komatsu, quoting Orson F. Whitney. I always like it when someone refers to Father and Mother in Heaven, and I also loved the idea that NO PAIN will be wasted—not even the dumbest, most avoidable pain that we totally brought upon ourselves—not even the ugliest, most exhausting pain that seems like it can't ever have anything to do with goodness—not even the hardest, saddest pain that we feel powerless to stop in the lives of those we love. ALL of it will be for our good in the end:

“No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God … and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire and which will make us more like our Father and Mother in heaven."

Other posts in this series:

We are expected to choose—by Jan Tolman

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A longing to do something really important

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Morning Session of the April 1987 Conference.

Elder David B. Haight's talk was about learning to love our neighbors, and learning to expand who we see as our "neighbors" in this world. But the specific context in which he talked about that was inviting more people to serve as couple missionaries. I have thought a lot about getting a chance to serve a mission with Sam someday, and I think I'm excited about it—though maybe more fear will set in as it gets closer to reality. But for now, that time seems very far away. This part of the talk, though, really spoke to me now:

Deep inside the human soul is a longing to be identified with and involved in something really important. There comes a time in our lives when we are spiritually prepared and ready to be lifted from comfortable and sometimes mundane activities and to make a major decision to respond to a call from our prophet that will ennoble our souls as well as bless others.

One of my favorite talks in this most recent conference was by Elder Terence M. Vinson, who talked about being fully committed to the gospel. He said:

I learned that when I played my hardest, when I gave my all, my enjoyment of the game was greatest.

When he said that, I started thinking about the most satisfying days I've had, and I realized that almost all of them have been days full of hard work or some kind of struggle. The amount or importance of the struggle can vary: the day we laid sod in our backyard—making a really delicious meal—various piano recitals—giving a lesson or carrying out a church activity I was in charge of—the labor and births of my babies. And they've often been days where I'm really relieved to have them over with! But Elder Vinson is right: there is great satisfaction in going to bed knowing "I gave my all" that day.

I've been trying to keep this in mind when I feel frustrated or overwhelmed with challenges: "I'm going to be grateful for this hard work someday!" Or as another conference talk said, "Hard is good!"

So, back to Elder Haight's quote above—I think my soul does feel this "deep longing" to be "involved in something really important." I don't always manage to overcome my natural fear and laziness to actually SEEK OUT those uncomfortable and hard situations. But I'm always (or…usually) happy to have been forced into them. And really, deep down, beneath the fear and laziness, I DO want them; I DO truly want to "ennoble [my] soul as well as bless others." I want to participate in God's work even when it's difficult.


Other posts in this series:

"God's greatest gift is to try again"—by Jan Tolman

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Forget about receiving a miracle

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Priesthood Session of the April 1987 Conference.

I thought this was kind of a funny thing for a General Authority to say about how to develop a testimony:

Youth of Zion, forget about receiving a miracle, or the so-called sure sign from heaven. There are no shortcuts to eternity. Thus, extreme patience becomes another key factor as we develop our testimony over a lifetime. It is simply “line upon line, precept upon precept; here a little, and there a little,” just as the scriptures say. 

In context, he isn't saying "miracles aren't real" or anything like that. Rather than "You WON'T receive a miracle" I think he means "Don't FOCUS on receiving a miracle." Which, actually, I think is good advice. His point is that developing a testimony is a lifelong process, which cannot be hurried or accomplished in one dramatic event. I like his phrase "extreme patience"—I feel that sets up appropriate expectations. :) Rather than waiting passively for miracles, we ought to be focusing on our own obedience and faith, letting the miracles come as God wills.

Elder Simpson then gives this further counsel:

If you want to know the truth, you become informed, you be willing, and you be available. 

Be informed about truth by reading the scriptures and by listening to inspired leaders.
Be willing to live that truth to the best of your ability. 

And then be available to the gifts of the Spirit through your personal worthiness that you may be directed and that you may recognize the answer when it comes. 

…And never forget this: anyone who has been foreordained as you have been, anyone who has been given the gift of the Holy Ghost as you have, and anyone who has had priesthood authority conferred upon him as you have, will surely find within his grasp the ability to acquire a strong testimony—a testimony that should never stop growing.

And that, among other things, IS the miracle—the Holy Ghost working upon us bit by bit to bring us closer to Jesus Christ.


Other posts in this series: Engage the Blessing of a Priesthood Blessing—by Jan Tolman

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