July 2021

You need heaven's help

Tuesday, July 27, 2021

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Sunday Morning Session of the October 1993 Conference.

President Hinckley gave a talk in this Conference that was quite a powerful call to action for parents. He tells this story, which I remember well:

Not long after we were married, we built our first home. We had very little money. I did much of the work myself. It would be called “sweat equity” today. The landscaping was entirely my responsibility. The first of many trees that I planted was a thornless honey locust. Envisioning the day when its filtered shade would assist in cooling the house in the summertime, I put it in a place at the corner where the wind from the canyon to the east blew the hardest. I dug a hole, put in the bare root, put soil around it, poured on water, and largely forgot it. It was only a wisp of a tree, perhaps three-quarters of an inch in diameter. It was so supple that I could bend it with ease in any direction. I paid little attention to it as the years passed.

Then one winter day, when the tree was barren of leaves, I chanced to look out the window at it. I noticed that it was leaning to the west, misshapen and out of balance. I could scarcely believe it. I went out and braced myself against it as if to push it upright. But the trunk was now nearly a foot in diameter. My strength was as nothing against it. I took from my toolshed a block and tackle. Attaching one end to the tree and another to a well-set post, I pulled the rope. The pulleys moved a little, and the trunk of the tree trembled slightly. But that was all. It seemed to say, “You can’t straighten me. It’s too late. I’ve grown this way because of your neglect, and I will not bend.”…

When it was first planted, a piece of string would have held it in place against the forces of the wind. I could have and should have supplied that string with ever so little effort. But I did not, and it bent to the forces that came against it.

I have seen a similar thing, many times, in children whose lives I have observed. The parents who brought them into the world seem almost to have abdicated their responsibility. The results have been tragic. A few simple anchors would have given them the strength to withstand the forces that have shaped their lives. Now it appears it is too late.

I've always kind of hated this story, honestly, because it seems so sad, and even as I acknowledge that it must hold true for some parents and children, I'm not sure when it would EVER be helpful to me to think, "I didn't do enough when my children were young, and now it's too late." And I've read other quotes that imply that "too late" only applies when a parent STOPS TRYING to love and reach out to a child. So I don't think President Hinckley meant that anyone should give up and think "too late now!" about influencing their children. But this story certainly does make you feel the weight of teaching children while they're young!

Then, I especially liked this part of his talk:

[Bringing up your children in light and truth] may not be easy. It may be fraught with disappointment and challenge. It will require courage and patience. I remind you of the faith and determination of the thirteen-year-old girl who, holding a paintbrush in her teeth, created the painting I showed you earlier. Love can make the difference—love generously given in childhood and reaching through the awkward years of youth. It will do what money lavished on children will never do.

—And patience, with a bridling of the tongue and self-mastery over anger. The writer of Proverbs declared, “A soft answer turneth away wrath”.

—And encouragement that is quick to compliment and slow to criticize.

These, with prayers, will accomplish wonders. You cannot expect to do it alone. You need heaven’s help in rearing heaven’s child—your child, who is also the child of his or her Heavenly Father.

I've been reminded of this—the fact that my children are not only "mine," but Heavenly Father's—a few times in priesthood blessings, and it always comforts me, since it seems clear that He can pretty easily make up for all the things I lack. And it drives home the point that all that stuff in the story about the tree—how doing small things early on is better than drastic intervention later—is not actually to be done on our own, but with God's help. That definitely makes it all seem more possible!

Because they were humble, they were magnified

Tuesday, July 20, 2021

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Priesthood Session of the October 1993 Conference.

I liked this from President Faust:

There is a certain arrogance in thinking that any of us may be more spiritually intelligent, more learned, or more righteous than the Councils called to preside over us. Those Councils are more in tune with the Lord than any individual persons they preside over, and the individual members of the Councils are generally guided by those Councils. In this church, where we have lay leadership, it is inevitable that some will be placed in authority over us who have a different background from our own. This does not mean that those with other honorable vocational or professional qualifications are any less entitled to the spirit of their office than any other. Some of the great bishops of my lifetime included a brickmason, a grocer, a farmer, a dairyman, and one who ran an ice cream business. What any may have lacked in formal education was insignificant. They were humble men, and because they were humble, they were taught and magnified by the Holy Spirit. Without exception, they were greatly strengthened as they learned to labor diligently to fulfill their callings, and to minister to the Saints they were called to preside over. So it is with all of the callings in the Church.

I just keep thinking about all the humble men and women in the ward I grew up in—people who would always tell me what a great talk I gave, praise my attempts at insightful comments, admire my piano playing or my music leading. As a young woman, I suppose I kind of took all of that as only what I deserved (ha!), but now I'm astonished at it! These were men and women who were amazing in their fields—professors, musicians, writers, thinkers—and who had so much more experience that I did in life and in the church. I've been to enough of their funerals, now, that I begin to realize what kind of people they were, in both worldly and spiritual accomplishments. But in that ward, they all just acted as fellow-servants of God, gracious even to awkward teenagers who didn't know anything! It makes me wonder if I have been half as kind, as an adult, to the youth around me! I want to be.

I also love seeing the way that church councils, working together, can accomplish such great things through the Spirit—and the way that individuals in their separate callings are upheld by the Spirit as well. It's comforting to think that no matter where the Lord asks us to serve (and I'm thinking particularly of motherhood, my most challenging assignment of all) he will also strengthen us and make us equal to the task.

That sacred place only a few have the courage to enter

Tuesday, July 13, 2021

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Afternoon Session of the October 1993 Conference.

When I read this quote by Alexander Solzhenitsyn several years ago it struck me with such force that I've been thinking about it ever since:

If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing
good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?

I thought about it again when I read Elder Busche's relentlessly bracing—overwhelming, you might say—attack on self-deception. I feel like you don't run into this type of…brutally forthright treatment very often. But for me, it's very effective. And Elder Busche is right; I have found my prayers are much more meaningful when I'm willing to face Heavenly Father with this kind of honesty:

The issue is truth, my dear brothers and sisters, and the only way to find truth is through uncompromising self-education toward self-honesty to see the original “real me,” the child of God, in its innocence and potential in contrast to the influence from the other part of me, “the flesh,” with its selfish desires and foolishness.…With this enlightened understanding of the deadly battlefront inside of us, we are painfully aware that we can only ask for and receive the help of the Lord, as the God of truth, under the condition of complete and relentless self-honesty.

This war is a war that has to be fought by all of Heavenly Father’s children, whether they know about it or not. But without a keen knowledge of the plan of salvation, and without the influence of the divine Light of Christ to bring us awareness, this war is being fought subconsciously, and therefore its battlefronts are not even known to us, and we have no chance to win.

Elder Busche continues:

Enlightened by the Spirit of truth, we will then be able to pray for the increased ability to endure truth and not to be made angry by it. In the depth of such a prayer, we may finally be led to that lonesome place where we suddenly see ourselves naked in all soberness. Gone are all the little lies of self-defense. We see ourselves in our vanities and false hopes for carnal security. We are shocked to see our many deficiencies, our lack of gratitude for the smallest things. We are now at that sacred place that seemingly only a few have courage to enter, because this is that horrible place of unquenchable pain in fire and burning. This is that place where true repentance is born. This is that place where the conversion and the rebirth of the soul are happening. This is the place where the prophets were before they were called to serve. This is the place where converts find themselves before they can have the desire to be baptized for the remission of their sins. This is the place where sanctifications and re-dedications and renewal of covenants are happening. This is the place where suddenly the atonement of Christ is understood and embraced. This is the place where suddenly, when commitments have solemnly been established, the soul begins to “sing the song of redeeming love” and indestructible faith in Christ is born. This is the place where we suddenly see the heavens open as we feel the full impact of the love of our Heavenly Father, which fills us with indescribable joy.

I just find that so fascinating—the turn from "unquenchable pain" to "indescribable joy." I have often noticed it in Alma's account of his angelic visitation, the "exquisite" pain and joy he contrasts with each other, but I hadn't made the connection to my own experiences in "pouring out my soul" to Heavenly Father. I can see it now, though! I often think about how substantial it feels when I feel God's approval and love. It goes down into my soul like few other things do, and I think it's because I know Heavenly Father knows ALL of me, the good and the bad. When I receive praise or compliments from others, it's nice, but there's always the lurking knowledge "ah, but that person doesn't REALLY know me, not ALL the things about me." But Heavenly Father does, so when he gives me a "well done" I really hold onto it. I think that's part of the "indescribable joy" of seeking truth about myself from Him.

The other part, of course, is knowing that Jesus Christ "doesn't recoil from the scabs of the sheep;" that He wants us to face our flaws but not be incapacitated by them, because we know HE has paid the price to take them from us. That knowledge, too, brings "indescribable joy."

I suppose that quote at the top has stuck with me because I feel its truth so clearly. I know I can ONLY overcome that feeling Solzhenitsyn talks about, that reluctance to "destroy a piece of my own heart," through trusting the Savior. I have to trust that Jesus Christ will recompense everything I lose in His service, and fill me with something even better to replace the parts of "myself" that have to be removed if I want to become like Him. Like Elder Busche says, it takes a lot of courage to enter that place of self-scrutiny (and of course, you have to enter it repeatedly as you continue to grow!). But it is worth it.

I too say "Trust Jesus"

Tuesday, July 6, 2021

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Morning Session of the October 1993 Conference.

I said a few weeks ago that I'd been thinking about trust in the Lord, and there are some good thoughts on that from Elder Holland's talk in the October 1993 Conference. This is back from when he was a Seventy (even though I feel like he has always been an apostle)!:

He gets going in inimitable Holland style:

The first and great commandment on earth is for us to love God with all our heart, might, mind, and strength because surely the first and great promise in heaven is that he will always love us that way.

And then I loved this:

So much of what so many think about God (if they think about him at all) must make him weep. In fact, we know it makes him weep. … The Father of us all, is divinely anxious to bless us this very moment. Mercy is his mission, and love is his only labor. John Donne said once: “We ask our daily bread, and God never says, ‘You should have come yesterday.’ … [No, he says,] ‘Today if you will hear [my] voice, today I will hear yours.’ … If thou hast been benighted till now, wintered and frozen, clouded and eclipsed, damp and benumbed, smothered and stupefied till now, God yet comes to thee, not as in the dawning of the day, … but as the sun at [full] noon, to banish all shadows”.…

In a world of some discouragement, sorrow, and overmuch sin, in times when fear and despair seem to prevail, when humanity is feverish with no worldly physicians in sight, I too say, “Trust Jesus.” Let him still the tempest and ride upon the storm. Believe that he can lift mankind from its bed of affliction, in time and in eternity.

Longest Day, and other days

Sunday, July 4, 2021

The days have gotten so long! (And are now getting shorter…but let's not think about that.) There's often a hint of daylight in the East at the end of my morning run, and when I get up (again) to take Seb and Ky to cross-country, the sun is up!

We made homemade pizza and root beer on the Longest Day of the Year this year, and sent the little kids outside to eat while the older boys and Sam and I ate inside in (relative) peace and quiet.

I say relative peace and quiet because of this silly guy. It's quite scary when he just picks up a whole piece of pizza and chomps into it.

Our neighbors, bless them, are cleaning out their garage (thus the foosball table they gave us in the last post) and gave our kids a bunch of hula hoops. I have never SEEN such fun with hula hoops! Some of the other neighbors came over and they were all playing with the hula hoops together—rolling them down the hill, having contests, making trains. It was pretty cute.

We hated to put a stop to the hula-hooping, but Daisy and Junie came in on their own and insisted that we keep our tradition of going to the hammock park until it got dark. So off we went with our hammocks.